writing Poetry
writing poetry
stories of love
one happy marriage
sex and the sun
deep pale moon
hot my passion
can run cold as ice
smell the rose
lily is gay
sugar and spice
lilies nice
water stay mirrors death
skipping rocks
breast feed the beast
without baby a day
night loves between each toe
god holds off the devil
wine, drugs death more sex
hurting children is worse than bad
one child can make peace
help her melt all the guns
juices run from the middle
oozes gold rich honey
red puffy lips how they shine
rasins dried in the sun
shinny brass every button
lolly pops are not always pink
red wine draws more dreams
milking the stones
hot melting butter
sucking noises
soft whimpers quite cries
help me sleep
much better
at night.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mariner
he violet scent is sacred
Like dreams of angels bright;
The hawthorn smells of passion
Told in a moonless night.
But the smell is in my nostrils,
Through blossoms red or gold,
Of my own green flower unfading,
A bitter smell and bold.
The lily smells of pardon,
The rose of mirth; but mine
Smells shrewd of death and honour,
And the doom of Adam's line.
The heavy scent of wine-shops
Floats as I pass them by,
But never a cup I quaff from,
And never a house have I.
Till dropped down forty fathoms,
I lie eternally;
And drink from God's own goblet
The green wine of the sea.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sugar & Honey
(orbison--dees)
Sugar and honey, is what I cry for
Sugar and honey, is what Id die for
And darlin doll you make my life worthwhile
Because I want you sugar and honey.
Sugar and honey, keep me goin
Sugar and honey, I been a-knowin
Well everytime your lovin lips meet mine
You know I want you sugar and honey.
A little bit-a sugar, a whole lotta honey
Its alright sugar and honey mornin noon and night
Give me sugar and honey anytime.
Sugar and honey, is what I live for
Sugar and honey, for the flavor
Every little bitty thing you do
Just makes me love you, sugar and honey.
A little bit-a sugar, a whole lotta honey
Its alright sugar and honey, mornin noon and night
Yeah sugar and honey anytime, ah sugar and honey all the time
I need sugar and honey anytime.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Echo
Rust on his wail and melted like the snow,
And like fair women and brave men;
But death's prophetic ears gather the tears.
Trembling in distress and the look of things,
With checks all pale at night!
And like the flying feet without a rest at last.
Merry as a marriage-bell,
That was the echo of the wind to my ears at last;
But with soft eyes ans the look of the muse of love,
And the pleasant things of love are always around me.
Cold and low ans full of lusty life,
And in beauty's circles i will share my muse with you;
For the breasts of love do water my peaceful garden.
Double joy went through my mind with your muse,
And with rich blossom trees to swing along;
But your deep-blue eyes are here to stay.
The lilies gave me love and peace like,
The fresh water from your ocean of love;
But the echo around me is like the ruler of your waters,
And of the early flowers of the muse of your paradise.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wine (Love Poem)
Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not yet 40, my beard is already white.
Not yet 40, my beard is already white.
Not yet awake, my eyes are puffy and red,
like a child who has cried too much.
What is more disagreeable
than last night's wine?
I'll shave.
I'll stick my head in the cold spring and
look around at the pebbles.
Maybe I can eat a can of peaches.
Then I can finish the rest of the wine,
write poems 'til I'm drunk again,
and when the afternoon breeze comes up
I'll sleep until I see the moon
and the dark trees
and the nibbling deer
and hear
the quarreling coons
Death' is when 'You' milk 'It
'Death' is when 'You' milk 'It' and milk it, milked
and you drive it, forever and ever,
upward and upward and never down ward, insane.
Death is two silky hands covered in hot burning oil,
that start at the base and death loves to covers each lamp.
While the flame burns inside the brown paper bag exposed.
Pushing death deep without compassion through the pale
full moon, as death walks around, ignoring your cries.
Heaven for death and coming so close to death you find.
Death makes you come over to your friends house once
again, in your mind while those pearls in the bag,
are laid up on the shelf that you share, with deaths pink pig.
Death moves both horns closer, driven unforgiving together,
one here and one there, ever closer, untiring you are laid out as art.
Death knows when the sky is on fire, say it again and again.
Death and truth, death is like an epileptic seizure,
when more than those silky soft hands,
never moved all the way down,
and a river of hot molten 'death' sprays,
in your hair each black day.
Death is as proud..and as proud of you, Death is,
as you splash it around, all about town,
Death and 'Death's' protein mask so tight, you peel it off.
Death was just the tip of the ice burg and death melted it,
with death's thick and full, red buried, unyielding lips.
'You' love to have your fun with death, as you milk it over
and over, the milk never expires, death never tires,
and many,
many are deaths executions from death's weepy milked eye.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hurts Just A Little
Perfect love you will never find
Say goodbye to what's left
Behind
Your release is way overdue
Let your tears be a friend to you
If it hurts just a little be glad of it
Don't get caught in the middle
Thinking 'bout it
If it hurts just a little be glad of it
If you try you will see, what will be
Hurts just a little
Silent eyes make your public life
And the lies can be cold as ice
How could you ever be so blind
Bet you never ever ever thought
That love could be so kind
If it hurts just a little be glad of it
Don't get caught in the middle
Thinking 'bout it
If it hurts just a little be glad of it
If you try you will see, what will be
Hurts just a little
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
Honey (darlin')
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
Honey (darlin')
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
Honey (darlin')
It's a crime of passion
That's just what it means to me
If it hurt just a little be glad of it
Don't get caught in the middle
Thinking 'bout it
If it hurts just a little be glad of it
If you try you will see
If it hurt just a little be glad of it
Don't get caught in the middle
Thinking 'bout it
If hurts just a little be glad of it
If you try you will see
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
Honey (darlin')
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
Honey (darlin')
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
Honey (darlin')...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poo Ting Noises
delirious poo ting noises
lips opposite from one another.
talking about bubbles, floating.
humor magical noises.
spice, appearing then leaving
quickly.
musical notes tuned, rubbed
by the silk between,
two pieces of soft rock.
to hear it/is to see it.
to smell the laughter,
is to be
in love, with your whispering,
happy poo ting, fruity flavors.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Boy Next Door
There's a boy who lives next door;
And this boy is just as bad
As a boy can be; and poor!
He's so poor it makes me sad
When I see him. Out at knee;
And no shoes; and, more than that,
Hardly any shirt or hat.
He's as poor as Poverty.
II.
But I like him; yes, I do.
He can play 'most any game,
And tell fairy stories, too;
Funny stories, just the same
As my father does. And he
Told me one about a frog,
Living near a lake or bog,
Frog that married a bumblebee.
III.
And another of Jumping Joan
And Hink Minx, the old witch that
Sits before the fire alone
Frying fat for her black cat.
And of Craney Crow; her dog
And her chicken. But the best,
One I like more than the rest,
'S that one of the bee and frog.
IV.
Well, the bumblebee would sing
All day long; and all the night
Sang the old frog; till the thing,
So folks said, was done in spite,
Just to keep the flowers awake:
One a rose, a brier-rose;
And the other, one of those
Lilies that grow in a lake.
V.
All day long the bee would prod
At the rose and buzz and keep
Shaking it; it couldn't nod,
Much less ever go to sleep:
Humming to it, 'Don't you hear?
I'm so happy! Can't you be
Just a little neighborly?
Ain't my froggie just a dear?'
VI.
And the frog all night would sing
To the water-lily; while
On the pad he'd sit or cling,
On his face an ear-wide smile,
Croaking, 'Listen! have you heard
All about my bouncing bee?
Don't you wish that you were she?
I'm as happy as a bird!'
VII.
Then the water-lily'd yawn,
And the rose would bat its eyes:
One would say, 'It's nearly dawn.
Better sleep. So I advise.'
And the other, 'Jumping Jim!
That old frog's a wonder! made
Just for you. Can't I persuade
You to sing your songs to him?'
VIII.
Finally it got so bad
That the rose and lily agreed
They would fix them. Both were mad
And just dying to be freed
From this tuneful tyranny.
So the rose just took a thorn,
When the bee dropped in one morn,
Stabbed her; killed her dead, you see.
IX.
That night by the yellow moon,
Sitting on the lily-pad,
Tuning up his old bassoon,
Did n't that old frog feel sad
When the lily told him! Cried
Fit to break one's heart; and, plunk!
In he plunged right there and sunk:
Drowned, committed suicide.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let The Night Sleep
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!
While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!
While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!
poem by Subbaraman N V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mean Streak
Well, you stand there honey, with you hands on your hips
Well, its stoppin your feeling, baby, button your lips
Yeah, you stand there honey with the devil in your eyes
You say youre gonna leave me, but I know its a lie
Uh uh honey, you got a mean streak
Uh uh baby, you got a mean streak
Well, if you wanna stay with me, be my lovin honey
You must lose your mean streak
You look so cute and you walk so nice
Oh but your hide is as mean and as cold as ice
Well, I found my heart, it was a big kind of faster
And I know I was living in disaster
Uh uh honey, you got a mean streak
Uh uh baby, you got a mean streak
Well, if you wanna stay with me, be my lovin honey
You must lose your mean streak
Well, youre standing there honey, and youre looking so pretty
Well, Im gonna leave you standing there in a pity
Well, you took my love and you threw it away
And I know whats gonna happen to you someday
Uh uh honey, you got a mean streak
Uh uh baby, you got a mean streak
Well, if you wanna stay with me, be my lovin honey
You must lose your mean streak
Yeah, mean streak
Oh baby, mean streak
Oh honey, mean streak
Oh, mean streak
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
Poetry is the air I breathe
Poetry is the words that feed
My soul
To make me whole
Poetry is what makes me blossom
In the middle of spring
Poetry is what grows my garden
And makes it flourish with nature
Beauty
Poetry Is
My magical whim's that supply all my
Fantasy and fills my hopes and dreams
Poetry is the strong desire that keep the
Flames of love burning
In the midst of the hour
And lights up the sky
With beautiful hues of colours
Spreads from one globe to
Another
To swim the ocean deep
Just because of love
Poetry is that and more, which I
Hate to carry this on and on
But
Poetry is the love of our life that visit
Us in our dreams
Poetry is
Me and the worlds that wakes every
Morning to bloom and blossom
Even after the death has played it last
Song that breaks our hearts
Poetry is tears and moans
Grief and pain that Hunt's the
Soul
Poetry is the rain crying from
The sky
The sun the moon with the golden
Light
Poetry is a child laughter at play
The tears a child shreds in sadness
They cry
Poetry is just a book of songs you
And I write down in our journal
Each and every day
We
Mix them together again and again
That is poetry
Poetry is life woes
Life happiness
Poetry is life
Here now and after
Poetry is you and I
poem by Carolyn Sears
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance With The Devil
Cunning liar, eternal fire
Demon clever, promise 4ever
The curious try and always die
Live in fear, the devil is near
Can U feel his breath? Pray 4 death
The curious try and always die
"U men point those search lights up on the tower right now - move, move!"
Have no Savior, have no faith
Never look 4 Heaven's gate
Devil's children, no love inside
There is a soul, but it has died
Devil's children, no love inside
There is a soul, but it has died
And it cries, and it cries
CHORUS:
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
Give up 2 the feeling and don't try 2 fight
He wants your soul and he wants it 2night
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
Close your eyes 2 love and die
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight {sampled till end}
"U know, without U I just wouldn't wanna go on"
CHORUS {x2}
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
"It's as though we were made 4 each other
Beauty and the Beast
Of course if anyone else calls U Beast
I'll rip their lungs out"
Dance with the devil in the pale moonlight
Put your arms around him and hold him tight
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pink Pearl Necklace
Pink Pearl Necklace; and heaven is this,
My island an afterthought mornings glow
and pink sands where coral waves grow.
Happy are the clams every night as pink
sand washes them in your dreams.
Under water so clear I sometimes forget
and stay to long listening to the waves
sing your pink song.
Drifting with the currents of sleep pearls of
yours pink, slip out from beneath my hand.
Filaments permeate the strings of your
dreams leaving me behind on a pink pearl
necklace on this island yours made of dreams.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(If It) Hurts Just A Little
Perfect love you will never find
say goodbye to what's left
behind
your release is way overdue
let your tears be a friend to you
Chorus:
If it hurts just a little be glad of it
don't get caught in the middle
thinking 'bout it
if it hurts just a little be glad of it
if you try you will see, what will be
hurts just a little
Silent eyes make your public life
and the lies can be cold as ice
how could you ever be so blind
bet you never ever ever thought
that love could
be so unkind
Chorus:
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
honey (darlin' )
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
honey (darlin' )
C'mon baby, c'mon sugar, c'mon
honey (darlin' )
It's a crime of passion
that's just what it means to me
Chorus
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pink Pearl Necklace.
Pink Pearl Necklace; and heaven is this.
My island an afterthought mornings glow,
and pink sands there coral waves grow.
Happy are the oysters every night as pink
sand washes over them in your dreams.
Under water so clear I sometimes forget
and stay to long listening to the waves as
they sing your pink song.
Drifting with the currents of sleep pearls of
yours pink, slip off from beneath your neck.
Filaments permeate the strings of your
dreams leaving me behind on a pink pearl
necklace on this island you float on made of dreams.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shamrock Song
O, the red rose may be fair,
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
Many a lover hath the rose
When june's musk-wind breathes and blows:
And in many a bower is heard
Her sweet praise from bee and bird.
Through the gold hours dreameth she,
In her warm heart passionately,
Her fair face hung languid-wise:
O, her breath of honey and spice!
Like a fair saint virginal
Stands your lily, silver and tall;
Over all the flowers that be
Is my shamrock dear to me.
Shines the lily like the sun,
Crystal-pure, a cold, sweet nun;
With her austere lip she sings
To her heart of heavenly things.
Gazeth through a night of June
To her sister-saint, the moon;
With the stars communeth long
Of the angels and their song.
But when summer died last year
Rose and lily died with her;
Shamrock stayeth every day,
Be the winds or gold or grey.
Irish hills, as grey as the dove,
Know the little plant I love;
Warm and fair it mantles them
Stretching down from throat to hem.
And it laughs o'er many a vale,
Sheltered safe from storm and gale;
Sky and sun and stars thereof
Love the gentle plant I love.
Soft it clothes the ruined floor
Of many an abbey, grey and hoar,
And the still home of the dead
With its green is carpeted.
Roses for an hour of love,
With the joy and pain thereof:
Stand my lilies white to see
All for prayer and purity.
These are white as the harvest moon,
Roses flush like the heart of June;
But my shamrock, brave and gay,
Glads the tired eyes every day.
O, the red rose shineth rare,
And the lily saintly fair;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the inmost heart of me!
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day and Night
DAY goeth bold in cloth of gold,
A royal bridegroom he;
But Night in jewelled purple walks—
A Queen of Mystery.
Day filleth up his loving-cup
With vintage golden-clear;
But Night her ebon chalice crowns
With wine as pale as Fear.
Day drinks to Life, to ruddy Life,
And holds a kingly feast.
Night drinks to Death; and while she drinks—
Day rises in the East!
They may not meet; they may not greet;
Each keeps a separate way:
Day knoweth not the stars of Night,
Nor Night the Star of Day.
So runs the reign of Other Twain.
Behold! the Preacher saith
Death knoweth not the Light of Life,
Nor Life the Light of Death!
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mother
I
IT was April, blossoming spring,
They buried me, when the birds did sing;
Earth, in clammy wedging earth,
They banked my bed with a black, damp girth.
Under the damp and under the mould,
I kenned my breasts were clammy and cold.
Out from the red beams, slanting and bright,
I kenned my cheeks were sunken and white.
I was a dream, and the world was a dream,
And yet I kenned all things that seem.
I was a dream, and the world was a dream,
But you cannot bury a red sunbeam.
For though in the under-grave's doom-night
I lay all silent and stark and white,
Yet over my head I seemed to know
The murmurous moods of wind and snow,
The snows that wasted, the winds that blew,
The rays that slanted, the clouds that drew
The water-ghosts up from lakes below,
And the little flower-souls in earth that grow.
Under earth, in the grave's stark night,
I felt the stars and the moon's pale light.
I felt the winds of ocean and land
That whispered the blossoms soft and bland.
Though they had buried me dark and low,
My soul with the season's seemed to grow.
II
From throes of pain they buried me low,
For death had finished a mother's woe.
But under the sod, in the grave's dread doom,
I dreamed of my baby in glimmer and gloom.
I dreamed of my babe, and I kenned that his rest
Was broken in wailings on my dead breast.
I dreamed that a rose-leaf hand did cling;
Oh, you cannot bury a mother in spring!
When the winds are soft and the blossoms are red
She could not sleep in her cold earth-bed.
I dreamed of my babe for a day and a night,
And then I rose in my grave-clothes white.
I rose like a flower from my damp earth-bed
To the world of sorrowing overhead.
Men would have called me a thing of harm,
But dreams of my babe made me rosy and warm.
I felt my breasts swell under my shroud;
No star shone white, no winds were loud;
But I stole me past the graveyard wall,
For the voice of my baby seemed to call;
And I kenned me a voice, though my lips were dumb:
Hush, baby, hush! for mother is come.
I passed the streets to my husband's home;
The chamber stairs in a dream I clomb;
I heard the sound of each sleeper's breath,
Light waves that break on the shores of death.
I listened a space at my chamber door,
Then stole like a moon-ray over its floor.
My babe was asleep on a stranger's arm,
'O baby, my baby, the grave is so warm,
'Though dark and so deep, for mother is there!
O come with me from the pain and care!
'O come with me from the anguish of earth,
Where the bed is banked with a blossoming girth,
'Where the pillow is soft and the rest is long,
And mother will croon you a slumber-song–
'A slumber-song that will charm your eyes
To a sleep that never in earth-song lies!
'The loves of earth your being can spare,
But never the grave, for mother is there.'
I nestled him soft to my throbbing breast,
And stole me back to my long, long rest.
And here I lie with him under the stars,
Dead to earth, its peace and its wars;
Dead to its hates, its hopes, and its harms,
So long as he cradles up soft in my arms.
And heaven may open its shimmering doors,
And saints make music on pearly floors,
And hell may yawn to its infinite sea,
But they never can take my baby from me.
For so much a part of my soul he hath grown
That God doth know of it high on His throne.
And here I lie with him under the flowers
That sun-winds rock through the billowy hours,
With the night-airs that steal from the murmuring sea,
Bringing sweet peace to my baby and me.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Eternity
When your poetry
Falls in love with
My poetry…
And my poetry
Falls in love with
Yours.
We’ll let the poesies of
Yours and mine
Romance together…
In the fragrant, flowery bed
Of their rhyming rose petals.
The soft kisses and caresses
Of their honey-dewed words
Touching us deep and divine
Melting our hearts and souls
In their flames of passion
And love eternity…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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