Poetry

My mind stretches
I wake up
And begin to think

Yes, I recall
Tree-lined streets
Paved with movement

Porches were stoops
Where parents sat
Upon friendly benches

Wrought-iron fences
Surrounded
Pear, Chestnut, and Magnolias

Children in alleys
Of all ages
Playing with imagination

Trips to Coney Island
Fried chicken with pink lemonade
For little faces with big smiles

Small metal scissors
And paper dolls
As hours drifted by

One can always return
To Brooklyn
With saved memories

2007-09-30 22:55:25 · 12 answers · asked by Marguerite 7

Here we go gathering Nuts in May etc. cant think of any nuts that would be harvested in May, mostly its autumn, well in the UK that is.
anyone know the origin of this rhyme?

2007-09-30 19:38:19 · 5 answers · asked by Summer Rain 5

(and finally, two worlds collide................. )
{Looking like a banshee hovering, eering shrieking}



Darker your room gets, abnormally

Sitting alone, watching tv

One tape left of your sickening glee

'Bet cha never expected again to see me'





'You killed me! You did! I was so benign!

My torment for years you ended at nine!

A decade flown by, this unspeakable crime!

I emerge from abyss, it's your turn this time!'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Hmm, what's the matter, close your d*mn mouth!'

You afraid of my army brought back from the south?'
(Tortured they were) like me cotton mouthed,

Afraid to fight back as if they weren’t allowed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Sixty-nine souls that you brought together,

By cleaning up evidence, Ooo, you're so clever.'

'You'd never get caught, not you, tch, not ever!

But your ties to the victims weren’t easily severed'

2007-09-30 16:30:18 · 6 answers · asked by ? 3

Dear Santa


Dec 20, 1998

Dear Santa,
How are you this year?
I've been a real good boy
I’ve been in remission and
Would like a 'tinker' toy
Mum's helping write this letter
So it get's to you on time
Besides, there's some big words to
learn and I haven’t had the time

I loved the puppets you brought me
Last year when I was three
But, I was weak and bed ridden
So the staff did shows for me.

I wish all the kids had saw it,
It was really quite silly
But, there are only 4 kids left
Including little me

Remember Tommy Jamerson,
My 12 year old best friend?
Well, an angel came and took him
To be at Gods right hand.

I miss Tommy really bad but,
He left me with this gift
A baseball hat for my bare head
I think of him when wearing it.

Susan got to go home for
Christmas time this year!
She got that liver transplant
And is doing fine I hear.

2007-09-30 16:20:13 · 9 answers · asked by ? 3

To Kill A Child
up in your face
that desperate plea
brutally erased
A piercing scream
among your ears
what makes you ignore
that fear you hear?
That blank expression
under the surface
Eyes look through you
ominous
What could they have
possibly done
To send you rage
and kill that one
For just one day
if I had the power
To torture you all
and watch you cower
To bring onto you
that which you brought
a last final lesson
that killers need taught.

2007-09-30 16:17:40 · 9 answers · asked by ? 3

Screamin' Demons'
Soulless eyes
Trapped by fate
No compromise
Slowed by chains
In life they wrought
By steering away from
What they were taught
Some bare the torture
Of senseless wars
Constantly wailing
Of mental scars
And those whom did not
Keep searching for years
For those who were takin'
And thrown to their fears
The ones lying quiet
We must'nt be fooled
For all eternity
They are ridiculed
As man once was
It all passes over
The jealousy and hate
Forever they'll suffer
Take one night
To visit Pine Hill
Stroll into the middle
Stand perfectly still
In a minute or two
The wind will start blowing
The fog will roll in
And you'll begin knowing
The restless souls
Who dwell here forever
Making all the tales of
'Blood Cemetery' better


(every year)

2007-09-30 16:09:05 · 3 answers · asked by ? 3

Touched
Written by Semper Fi Reborn 9/30/07

So many people have been changed,
By your shining light.
That lit pathways to joy,
And calmed restless nights.
With a flair that I wish,
I had more time to know.
I have seen how you help,
Others grow.
I have seen in the night your glow.
And I am touched.

Loving life so real,
You are a cherished soul.
With a mass appeal.
With a heart of gold.
You have rained on us,
Like a mist of love.
Like a shower from Heaven above.
You are a song,
That sings of endless love.
And we are touched.

God Bless You Gnostic.

2007-09-30 13:01:21 · 6 answers · asked by Semp-listic! 7

ithis is sylvia plath's work -- "mushroom"

Mushrooms

"Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door."

2007-09-30 12:57:42 · 3 answers · asked by stay stoked 1

Chocolate for breakfast...
I could do this for a year or two.
The fellow next door is making espresso,
And someone downstairs plays a Chopin tune...
I think it's called "Wisteria."

I'm quiet and subdued,
But in a peaceful, pleasant way;
Just one of those mornings when nothing matters.
I think pretty soon--maybe today--
I'll write him a letter. But it can wait.

I smell Lily of the Valley
--that was always Mama's favorite--
Wafting on the gentle morning air...
The espresso man hums "Liebestraume"--I wish I could play it;
One of the years, I'l get there.

May late summer never leave!
I wish time would just stand still:
Nothing would ever matter again...
The flowers could stay on the window sill...
And I wouldn't be coming home--I never will.

Life is okay here, and so am I;
I've gotten used to the taste of coffee.
Don't think I miss the old life, or histeria:
This morning it's a chocolate breakfast, and the
Pianist playing "Wisteria."

2007-09-30 09:28:03 · 5 answers · asked by Anonymous

Spiritual Rhapsody

Divinity descended to the mortal planes in a manner so inconspicuous,
Faith was a constant companion while I remained so unpretentious.

I was thrown by destiny into his benign presence,
No obstacles ever matched my simplicity and resilience.

Freed from clutches of materialism I entranced in perfection,
Tears of elation sprang out without rhyme or reason.

Destination synonymous to a paradise is the abode of the blessed,
This torch lit by me cannot be extinguished.

A lump of clay transformed into a pot of totality,
Lost in inexhaustible bliss I bloomed to full maturity.

2007-09-30 08:30:27 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous

When the sun sets far into the ocean-and
The night brings back loneliness
I THINK OF U.
The moon shines in the endless sky-and
The stars shiver in the distance they whisper-and
I THINK OF U.
When the rain drop bends the petals-and
Slips down kissing them
I THINK OF U.
In the morning when the dew drops rest on the leaves making them feel warm and content
I THINK OF U.
When the cool breeze touches me every second
I THINK OF U.
And-miss your touch, your kiss and most of all i miss you.
I'm waiting for u to come out of my dreams and enter in my life

2007-09-30 08:19:01 · 13 answers · asked by saina 2

This organ of the digestive track seems to have nothing to do with the words of the poem.

The roses were all red,
And the ivy all black.
Beloved, when you become a little restless,
All my despair is reborn.
The sky was too blue, too tender,
The sea too green, and the air too mild;
I am always afraid of what may come,
Of some cruel flight of yours!
Of the green-leaved holly,
And of the shining box trees, I am weary,
And of the endless countryside,
And of everything, except you. Alas!

2007-09-30 05:19:34 · 4 answers · asked by AA 2

Ok i have to read this story and write a poem on it. The short story is " The storyteller" by Saki. I was having some problems starting it off. Could anybody help me the story is right here if you wanna read it and help me Thanks http://www.townsendpress.com/UserFiles/doccenter/pdf/Laugh_Chills.pdf

2007-09-30 04:38:06 · 6 answers · asked by herogman 1

can anyone help me? it's my report on Tuesday, Oct. 2. what is the main theme of the poem?

2007-09-30 02:49:39 · 8 answers · asked by EBK 1

Secrets in Oblivion

What wind can we in truth define
That shifts the sands but moves not time?
By what power we call divine
Could we in tendrilled waters creep?

The winds that whipers by a pine
And stirs its leaves but not the clouds.
The force that gave this life of thine
To silence, in eternal sleep.

2007-09-30 02:21:12 · 5 answers · asked by JuliusCaesar 1

If only fairy tales were true,
We would be together,
If only you realize,
We are meant for each other.

If only this, if only that,
Never will it happen,
Why can't you just understand,
That inside we are hurting.

Happily ever after,
Is what we longed to live,
But thanks to all you've done,
Pain is all we received.

If only fairy tales were true,
We would be together,
If only you realize,
We are meant for each other.

2007-09-30 01:11:56 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous

Im doing this critic paper about those two poems by Angela Manalang Gloria. I would like to know more about these two poems, and what elements do they have in common. And also what does Angela Manalang Gloria wanted to say through her poem? Thanks a lot.

2007-09-30 00:26:36 · 2 answers · asked by andrea a 1

Typecast

I see you the way you scan the crowd
I watch what bodies your eyes study
I hear who you flirt with
I notice these things
But you don't really notice me
At least not like that
I'm a fixture, part of the scenery
When you're hunting, I'm in the background
I'm never in your crosshairs
That's where you're in the wrong
I know who I am, I know what I am
Most importantly, I know I'm not your type
That's your big mistake
You should change those standards
Give me a chance to prove them wrong
I'm not your type, this is true
But, that's also the point
You haven't exactly gotten far with your type
Otherwise you wouldn't still be on the prowl
Would you
Take another look at me
See what you're missing
Try a little variety, it's worth it
I'm worth it

2007-09-30 00:17:52 · 3 answers · asked by tepes1994 2

The Coach of life

Although her load is sometimes heavy,
The coach moves at an easy pace;
The dashing driver, gray-haired time
Drives on, secure upon his box.

At dawn we gaily climb aboard her
We're ready for a crazy ride,
And scorning laziness and languor, A
We shout: "Get on, there! Don't delay!'

But midday finds our courage wane,
We're shaken now: and at this hour
Both hills and dales inspire dread.
We shout: "Hold on, drive slower, fool!"

The coach drives on just as before;
By eve we are used to it,
And doze as we attain our inn.
While Time just drives the horses on.

2007-09-29 15:02:49 · 14 answers · asked by MinistryTaker 2

Breaking Tradition
by Janice Mirikitani (1978)
For my daughter

My daughter denies she is like me,
her secretive eyes avoid mine.
She reveals the hatreds of womanhood
already veiled behind music and smoke and telephones.
I want to tell her about the empty room
of myself.
This room we lock ourselves in
where whispers live like fungus,
giggles about small breasts and cellulite
where we confine ourselves to jealousies,
bedridden by menstruation.
The waiting room where we feel our hands
are useless, dead speechless clamps
that need hospitals and forceps and kitchens
and plugs and ironing boards to make them useful.
I deny I am like my mother. I remember why:
She kept her room neat with silence,
defiance smothered in requirements to be otonashii;
passion and loudness wrapped in an obi,
her steps confined to ceremony,
the weight of her sacrifice she carries like
a foetus. Guilt passed on in our bones.
I want to break tradition -- unlock this room
where women dress in the dark
Discover the lies my mother told me.
The lies that we are small and powerless
that our possibilities must be compressed
to the size of pearls, displayed only as
passive chokers, charms around our neck.
Break Tradition.
I want to tell my daughter of this room
of myself
filled with tears of shakuhachi,
the light in my hands,
poems about madness,
the music of yellow guitars--
sounds shaken from barbed wire and
goodbyes and miracles of survival.
This room of open window where daring ones escape

My daughter denies she is like me
her secretive eyes are walls of smoke
and music and telephones,
her pouting ruby lips, her skirts
swaying to salsa, Madonna and the Stones,
her thighs displayed in carnivals of color.
I do not know the contents of her room.
She mirrors my aging.

She is breaking tradition.

2007-09-29 11:06:58 · 2 answers · asked by Anonymous

particularly my granpa, but it doesnt matter
as long as it will somehow kinda help me

2007-09-29 10:59:17 · 8 answers · asked by soWHAT 1

Run

My footsteps on the gravel
Breaks the silence in the air
Sharpe pains shoot through my body
And the wind blows through my hair
I feel the other pass me
And i bite down on my cheek
I hear my loved ones cheering
As my legs grow strained and weak
Tears have left me sightless
Growing dizzy in my head
The ache of this endeavor
Turns my arm into cold lead
I never really sought this
But i know how much you do
For you, i hurt and suffer
Limbs and fingers turning blue
My nose is leaking blood now
In my mouth, it taste like rust
I take a nasty tumble
Keeling over, bite the dust

By: K.M.P. (a.k.a. Cut Up Angel)

2007-09-29 09:18:59 · 6 answers · asked by Mary 4

who Knows it so true
that It's vital to everyones life
iN this world of a
Dark time where is there
to turN to
in this Endless tunnule there is
Some way out or
iS there no way out
i look In this never ending
tuNnule to find the
Truth that is so
Harsh I don't know what to do
there was a Endless amount of
truth about the World
Or it was about the
Rude people in this
in the Land of in conseterable world that
people make the world Die every day
For the reason why only
a reAson they could answer them self
so Does this mean what i think it
doEs
only meanS what you
mAke of it
just alWays reamber
And never forget what
You see in the middle of this

2007-09-29 08:53:47 · 2 answers · asked by Guardian Angel 3

Why? ...
Life as always will fade away
Drifting further everyday
I have lost the will to live
I need the end to set me free
To free myself from this cage
To fly to freedom in the endless sky
To free my heart
To free my soul

If only I could find the answer to
Why?
Why live in torture to have the earth as your bed
Why live in torture if you know your end
Why live in earthly hell if you will live it again
Why live a lie which you have prepared
Why live in hope if there wasn’t any
Why live in solitude with no sombre expressions
Why live if everything is worthless
Why live if everything is pointless
Why live in an illusion
Why live in life’s ugly version
Why live to go through all this
Why live…
Why?

2007-09-29 08:48:14 · 5 answers · asked by Princess Penguin 3

This Morning
Written by Semper Fi Reborn

This morning I was awakened,
By a kiss from the Sun.
A ray brushed her lips against me,
And stole my dreams,
Rousing me with her beauty.
I sat up and thanked God.
He said I was welcome,
And that I should enjoy this day He created.
I said Amen!

For this morning,
I was awakened by the vision,
Of the same Sun that Adam saw.
The same Sun that Moses walked under.
The same Sun that Jesus healed under.
The very same Sun that God placed in the sky,
And I wondered,
Why?
Why am I so blessed to see Your creations O' God?
All of the beauty that You,
Have bestowed upon mankind.
You annoint us with Love.
I Thank You, Abba.
For the gift and breath of life,
This Morning.

2007-09-29 01:26:12 · 6 answers · asked by Semp-listic! 7

In a brightly lit night,
Under the full moon,
There stood a girl,
Of undeniable beauty.

Her hair of ebony,
Her eyes of blue,
Her silk-like skin,
And her crimson lips.

But a flaw there was,
In her perfect being,
She was emotionless,
Practically dead.

Beyond her icy orbs,
You can see nothing,
But complete darkness,
Complete nothingness.

She couldn't laugh,
She couldn't cry,
She couldn't love,
She couldn't live.

She exists without a reason,
She's alive but dead inside,
But what made it nice is,
That she can be hurt no more.

2007-09-29 00:57:24 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

Can anyone explain the full meanings behind this rhyme? i know its about London, but what exactly? Do you know the entire lyrics?

2007-09-28 23:16:41 · 20 answers · asked by Stitch 4

1)what do u think is the them of the poem ozymandias

2) in what poetic format has it been written

2007-09-28 18:23:38 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous

i think i'm going to be a song writer, but idk cuz i also want to be a novelist. Or a poet, which one is better. I think i'm a better poet and song writer but i do have trouble finding a topic to write about, i'm really good at writing novels but i suck at finishing stuff. I've completed 45 poems and songs, and 0 books i've half finished but nothing more. So...which one is kooler? and which should i do oh and if you choose songwriter please tell me what to write about..like love or happiness or death murder whatever and if books or playwright or poetry plz tell me what to write about

2007-09-28 17:16:27 · 6 answers · asked by Anonymous

Night of Crucifixion

Rain of sin
Upon
The Jews and heathen.
The ground gives way to
Mushy dirt of wickedness.
Clouds grow sackcloth,
Day turns to night
Thunder rolls over Golgotha
Upon this sight.

I look upon my blood-stained Savior.
Lashed by the centurions; crowned with thorns,
Bearing the cross and mocked by man
Pieced by pikes driven with pain.
Yet the mob was surely entertained.

Beyond is the wooden stature of the cross.
Beholding, splinters on the back of the Holy One.
Pierced, gasping, and feeling
The trickling of blood and onslaught of rain.
Yet He’s gazing and saying,
“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
O! What agony he must be going through!

Upon the knoll, I see,
Many rising and crying.
Rising for air,
Crying for loved ones are near,
Yet no one hears.

Night of salvation,
Death of my Messiah.
The heavenly one,
Who versed against Satan
And won.

2007-09-28 15:42:22 · 12 answers · asked by Evangelist 3