Poetry

Secrets of Time
My first memory is age five. I am loyal
faithful to my words. I am a sinner and I know it.
I choose to lie I choose to make my lie the truth.
I broke and my tears spoke for me. Please, please
think about it- Any one who never lied at age five
Maybe but not this artist inside/ Outside who knows?
I lusted for a life and in my bloodline
the present and my past
It was achieved - I did not achieve it
Age 24 a new direction -
This time no goals in mind! I will be humble
I can act it and acting is out time.
Those around me are my pawns
Not mind games but support and understanding
I have educated myself and felt nirvana
I walk on the sun and it charges my journey
Who are we and do you stand tall
I am now another teacher/student amongst us all

2007-05-21 20:54:59 · 3 answers · asked by waterzone 4

Ping! There it goes,
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down

Ping! There it goes again,
Weebles wobble but they don't fall

Ping! There it goes again again,
Weebles wobble but they don't

2007-05-21 16:31:03 · 17 answers · asked by Anonymous

The Room in My Mind
By Drew Teter

There is a room inside my mind
Into which I never creep
For inside that room are many things
That haunt me when I sleep

There is a room inside my mind
Holding memories Depressing and Deep
There is a room inside my mind
Into which I dare not creep

In this room inside my mind
Into which I need not creep
Are my memories of you
And I’ll drown if I go to deep

I am in this room of mine
And I fear I’ve gone too deep
And now I’ll never be free of you
If only I’d never dared to creep

2007-05-21 15:52:38 · 24 answers · asked by Drew T 2

She lays among the willow trees,
the remind her of her eyes,
sadness cascading from each branch,
a song of sorrowful goodbyes,

reaching into deeper grounds,
roots, its life, nothing more,
inside of this hollow heart,
contemplating what I said before,


beyond the tombstones, beyond the lies,
sleeps starlight in her casket,
long beautiful, blonde hair knotted,
dead flowers lay near her, in a wicker basket

Her poetry was truth, her words were life,
her struggles with breathing, being without that knife,
she got lost inside anger, inside the tears,
letting escape, her intricate fears,

these prayers, in your mind forgotten,
but for her a time of trial,
when she didnt feel like God was listening,
while she was fighting just to smile,

open wounds, degrade her, everyone close your eyes,
you might get a glimpse of whats happening,
the battle between hellos and goodbyes,

i see you among the willow trees, for some reason, I sit close enough to hear her cry, and in her sobbing beauty, I cant believe my eyes.....

I watch the willow tree parade itself,
full of everything i feel, and i wish that I could tell you now, that none of this is real,
except the girl that hides her sadness, and battles with this blade, is me holding all my emptiness, screaming to be saved, the whole time you are reading this, a second more has passed, just that much longer without love, and the courage to fight back,

I lay here under this willow tree, this time the air is cold, I am no longer crying, no longer here to hold, The emptiness of others now fills this sorry place, inside the moments memories, you wish time could be erased, but blackness cant get darker, my words will go un-said, the grey that once surrounded me, now sleeps inside this bed, lace and fragranced flowers, a body without a soul, float away into the nothingness, where empty and forgotten people go...underneath the willow tree

2007-05-21 15:51:08 · 1 answers · asked by Anonymous

the city lights try to reassure us, tomorrow

the sun will be back... the streets show no

remorse for the lives that they swallow

everyday.
sitting next to him in his car, tears falling

from those dark eyes full of mascara and

liner, streaking her face with pain bleeding

midnights screams. the broken life of a

tattered soul, who at some point forgot what

she was supposed to be when she grew up...now

frozen waters harbor her heart, one wrong move

it could be shattered and her life would be

over.

She clutches her purse as if it is a lifeline,

as if it is her breath, her addiction, and

also her worst fear... inside a hidden pocket

is a razorblade, inside another, scizzors

bandages... She has only tried burning once or

twice, drugs... more than that, and there is

such a rush when she knows that she can save

herself heartache with blood.

Isnt it so insane to actually be able to carve

into your skin and not feel anything,

perfection could never be attained and so by

making imperfections at least you arent on the

fence between worlds of perfect and imperfect,

now you are truly a flaw, an imperfection, a

word written in the wrong place, completely

incomplete of what they all expected of you.

I am in a room, Walking back and forth, the

lullaby of an empty echoe, the sound of my

shoes creating a sincere silence, a broken

smile, tears...Nothing, I cant even cry

because I have forgotten how to produce

emotion.

In the essence of our past, I could almost

bring myself to a place of substance, where I

used to know how to laugh, or be who I truly

am, but Close isnt close enough.
We were once eachothers air, lifeline, we were

what kept the other one inside and alive in

this life of "half empty-ness"

The city lights cant reassure that I will see

the sun tomorrow, the black streets will

swallow every ounce of anything I had believed

in,
because I know that when I step out of this

car, it will be the end of everything we lived

for, for so long, our entire selves,
The Fragranced air has now turned stale and I

know that It is time to walk away...

I clutch my purse with every bit of strength I

have left, knowing that I can let you go when

I get upstairs to my apartment...in an

enclosed room, alone.

I can carve you out of my soul and my life,

and I can walk away, completely dissatisfied

with myself, and broken because of you.
We must have written this break up a thousand

times in a play, I have seen it in my mind so

many times, and yet, im almost not here, not

aware that it is over.

How bittersweet and tragic that We had to end

on a stage in front of thousands of people

reading our life story in the whisper of a

crowd. How ridiculous and predictable that I

could paint you and everyone else would know

what I couldnt seem to see, I am the artist,

you were the muse, I was the writer, you were

the blues, the colors of emptiness painted

your face, and I was to blind to see that all

this time, I walked in an empty apartment, to

the silenced lullabies of sadness, You made me

the ghost of myself...

The end to every story, the memory that haunts

you, the conclusion to a long year of

emptiness, and hurt, the remnant of whatever I

had left, The empty echoe of footsteps where

there were none, Take your bow, I have written

you like we never existed...

2007-05-21 15:48:33 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

Why did Paul Verlaine write Tears Fall in My Heart and wat does the poem mean?

2007-05-21 14:52:52 · 1 answers · asked by Anonymous

Is anyone familiar with this poeam by EE cummings, if so wat do u know about it and where i can find info, criticisms about it

2007-05-21 14:32:02 · 2 answers · asked by Anonymous

(it doesn't have a title yet)

Begging, begging.
Only anguish she feels.
Only wishing to somehow heal.
A knife stuck in her back,
the only thing she sees is black.
Beseeching to just die,
to be able to say good-bye.
Her body madly shakes,
in her, thunders a mad earthquake.

Cry out, cry out.
Regret is all she gains,
feeling nothing but awful pains.
No more can she take it,
suicide she just might commit.
Feeling like giving up,
but she won't quit in that dump.
She looks badly careworn,
just wishing she was never born.

Do it, do it.
Repeating those words,
she knows its truly absurd.
She stares down at the gun,
wishing this could all be done.
She doesn't want to wait,
or manage to contemplate.
She pulls the black trigger,
ending all of her anger.
******************************...

(it might sound better if you read it out loud... idk)

so what do you think of it? I'm 14 years old. Does it flow well?

thank you!

2007-05-21 14:10:44 · 7 answers · asked by ? 3

2007-05-21 13:56:01 · 1 answers · asked by joan and henry B 2

2007-05-21 05:41:02 · 3 answers · asked by AB TO ADAT HAI ,DOORIE GAI NA KI 1

i have written a poem and would like anyone and everyone please to send it to everyone they know i want it to go world wide but say it was written by Pastinie. please no plaguarism because i wrote this myself.

Do you enjoy the hills and the trees?
The beautiful views with a warming breeze.
When the leaves swirl round in different places,
While the dust fills out all the odd spaces.
Between the trees to the past,
Who knows what will and won’t last?
Among the meadows there grows a flower,
It is very rare and holds a great power.
Seams of joy grow in the ground,
Finding their way so they will be found.

As we walk through valleys and hills,
Show everyone our wonderful skills.
We show the world the meaning of joy,
You act as though you are a little boy,
Finding all the hidden spots,
Investigating every tiny dot.
Creating a fact that will never be lost,
Such a great thing that it has no cost,
The bonds between family members,
The love that will always be remembered.

2007-05-21 05:31:40 · 7 answers · asked by Pastinie 3

A woman travels to Brazil for plastic
surgery and a face-lift. She is sixty
and has the usual desire to stay pretty.
Once she is healed, she takes her new face
out on the streets of Rio. A young man
with a gun wants her money. Bang, she’s dead.
The body is shipped back to New York,
but in the morgue there is a mix-up. The son
is sent for. He is told that his mother
is one of these ten different women.
Each has been shot. Such is modern life.
He studies them all but can’t find her.
With her new face, she has become a stranger.
Maybe it’s this one, maybe it’s that one.
He looks at their breasts. Which ones nursed him?
He presses their hands to his cheek.
Which ones consoled him? He even tries
climbing onto their laps to see which
feels most familiar but the coroner stops him.
Well, says the coroner, which is your mother?
They all are, says the young man, let me
take them as a package. The coroner hesitates,
(continued...)

2007-05-21 05:20:01 · 1 answers · asked by anonymous 2

eecummings had a stYle and now can CHARLAX have his?

2007-05-21 05:17:14 · 3 answers · asked by charlaxhice 2

i am doing a writing final on if by rudyard kipling and i was wondering if anyone can help me out with my report because it is crazzzy hard! i have my intro and 1st body paragraph...but i need to know the structure of the poem and the language of it...im lost!!! urgent help please!

2007-05-21 03:58:33 · 2 answers · asked by katie p 1

New World Order

There is a group of people… across this planet wide,
with greedy little fingers - and power on their mind,
they do not care ‘bout sovereignty - the one-world is their goal,
Liberty is their enemy… and their deity is Control.

They march across the history books - possess an ageless plan,
leading us toward dependency - to a woman and a man,
their map to domination is as old as time itself,
mixing ancient mysteries with technology off the shelf,

Keeping us in darkness - their faces unrevealed,
the shadows are their foxholes and secrecy is their shield,
they manipulate behind the scenes - relentless without fear,
a crescendo of disparity that builds from year to year.

They provide us our distractions - engulf us day to day,
preparing to enslave us, they slowly wear away
a catalogue of liberties - and while freedoms wane and cease,
they tell us that they’re doing it for security and for peace,

They prey upon our apathy - in a plot you can’t untwist,
policing how you think and feel… they tighten an iron fist,
they terrorize the spirit of hope with fear and guilt and shame
‘til there’s nothing left of who you were but a ghost, a shell, a name.

They rule from modern castles - elitist to the core,
they think of you as mindless stock to serve them evermore,
they’ll take away your firearms so you cannot self-defend,
and tag you with an ID chip… to keep you in your pen.

There is a group of people… across this planet wide,
who are waiting for their moment - and time is on their side,
the New World Order is the dream - and dominion is the gain,
but they cannot reach this final goal… ‘til Liberty has been slain.

2007-05-21 00:53:11 · 6 answers · asked by Anthony M 4

I am looking for the folowing Afrikaans poems!
Die Miljoeners se Kombuis By Peter Blum!
Die honjie I dont no who wrote it!
Voel By R. Belcher!

Please find these poems! I really need them! Anyone who givs me the right stuff gets ten points!

2007-05-20 23:56:29 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

if i was a dog and you were a flower i would lift up my leg and give you a shower ♥♥

2007-05-20 23:03:54 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous

i love the poem "our deepest fear", dont know the authour though. any good poems ?

2007-05-20 16:08:39 · 6 answers · asked by youngfashionista 2

I will tell you the actual title when the question is resolved.

"In slumbered gasp a beach is born
In a waking moment dunes mortar’d flat
In a war of words hammering anvilles the mind
Grain of sand finds the eye, for an eye
In the dream tank
Sleeping Meshuggah awakes."

2007-05-20 06:47:44 · 9 answers · asked by Raging Tranny 7

Euphoria my love I am not always with you but when I am, I love you.

2007-05-19 23:11:54 · 5 answers · asked by Anonymous

I am not a native speaker, so it is hard for me to judge. Does he have an accent? Did he make mistakes? Please evaluate.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aTtQrHFOC8Y



.

2007-05-19 19:11:14 · 4 answers · asked by Thomas B 2

~The Goose~
by Muriel Spark

Do you want to know why I am alive today?
I will tell you.
Early on, during the food-shortage,
Some of us were miraculously presented
Each with a goose that laid a golden egg.
My self, I killed the cackling thing and I ate it.
Alas, many and many of the other recipients
Died of gold-dust poisoning.

I read it from a book called " Good Poems for Hard Times",
and I couldn't get it, especially the last sentence.
Some one good at poems please help.

2007-05-19 18:06:49 · 9 answers · asked by Flyweesh 2

2007-05-19 17:38:43 · 5 answers · asked by ignoramus_the_great 7

Soldier's Legacy

A metal of valor, sparkling gold,
A soldiers helmet, blood stained and old.
A picture of my father, the day before he died,
My own swollen heart, full of depression and pride.
He fought on the front line, day after day,
while I'd neal at his picture, cry and pray.
He fought for freedom, for his daughter and wife,
and for his country, as well as his life.
What do you call it, when a soldier has to fight,
fight for his family, freedom and right?
They say that a man will always return after the war
but only a box of poems comes knocking at your door. Letters he wrote, and letters he kept,
stained and wrinkled from tears that he wept.
His certificate returns in the hands of a man,
dirty, injured, and sun bitten tan.
He seems to have a lot of certificates in that car,
but this one gripped my heart and left a scar. (second stanza below)

2007-05-19 15:22:41 · 13 answers · asked by Anonymous

new poem just made up about something deep with little explination... what do you think?
warrior with no enemy

I am a warrior
with no enemy
I am a soldier
an I shall be me

I ain't afraid you
and I ain't afraid of life
I ain't afraid of what I do
and I carry no knife

I fight for something
I fight no body
I have nothing
and I shall be me

I have a past
and I can see
but this contrasts
why I shall be me

I have a future
that I cannot see
I am no butcher
I have become me

2007-05-19 15:13:52 · 7 answers · asked by Anonymous

does anyone know a website where there are poems listed by the type/genre (ex. acrostic, couplet, etc.)

2007-05-19 11:53:40 · 1 answers · asked by Anonymous

My friend wrote this for her boyfriend. She wants me to critique it. i don't know what the heck to tell her.

I blanketed you with my arm and leg
When you begged
I had to let out the dirty bathwater on my own
I held the plug and you begged
For my arm and leg

I was your heat on the cool nights
When you begged
It was my limbs that had to freeze
It was my warmth and you begged
For my arm and leg

2007-05-19 03:00:20 · 8 answers · asked by Anonymous

Watch where you walk.
Watch where you walk;
those gaps in the floor will swallow you.
Watch how you talk.
Watch how you talk;
wreched lies and panic
are flourishing.

2007-05-19 02:56:33 · 2 answers · asked by maybehow 1

.

What fun is life if I cannot live for today?

racist jokes,
political jokes,

mostly its all a big joke.


Somebody tell Gallagher a joke.


She's lived longer than Sylvia.



..




.

2007-05-19 01:25:08 · 1 answers · asked by Anonymous

A NEW WORLD!

You took me away into the world of love,
Where you flew around like a dove,
My heart was made for you alone,
A place for you to be my own.

You took me away into the world of peace,
Where you buzzed around like the bees,
A small gift from my heart,
In which you’ll be a part

You took me away into the world of joy,
Where you played around like a toy,
I am the one just for you,
All the time the sky is blue.

You took me away into the world of hope,
Where I am sure that you can cope
If you truly want to be with me,
My heart is the place to be.

2007-05-19 00:14:04 · 8 answers · asked by ritty 1