Never Again Will Roses Be Given, To You Who Are So Undeserving

Warranties expired on the test of my good tolerance
Now I'm ready to collar you for a trip down the market
Sick and rabid you, bite with ferocity spilling words from a witches cauldron
You’re a Double crossing, triple agent liar, ideal remady for a soviet solution

Do you realize a sinuous infection, is by definition, synonymous
with your cold soldiered manipulation, of a callous politician
Yes I would rather contract a tumor the size of your mouth
than to listen to yours which exfoliates a waste of breath

I was once inoculated by your crystal vanity
But now I see it as a homeless recital play
A deprived charade, a pantomime rag, a monkey’s empty box of tricks
Never again will roses be given, to you who are so undeserving

Just a veil of poison that coats my ears in wasp stings
A tongue swept in hemlock ripples, frothing with green ocean scum Feeding rapids of azalea kisses red tide infections corrupt bottleneck dolphins
To reciprocate these gifs Ill give you dolomite for the candles on your birthday cake

Washed out Xerox machine, copy more grief than a cottonmouth snake

[...] Read more

poem by Kevin Patrick
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Everything Changes

The flowers
The hours
The seasons
The reasons
The dirty pennies
The sweet cherries
The sour grapes
The naughty apes…

Everything changes
When one has no change
The ranges
The fringes
This is strange
Everything changes
The birds
The nerds
The smiles
The styles
The cries

[...] Read more

poem by Hebert Logerie
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Free Fall

A long while, a long long while it seems:
The bat-winged figure shaking his robe,
The cameras purring.

It is Daedalus the tailor, up on the Eiffel Tower
Ready to fly. The year is 1900;
We watch it, now.

...Shakes at his bat-robe, first to the right,
Then left, then right again, a twitch,
A doubtful gesture.

'Cast thyself from the pinnacle, angels will bear thee up.'
So great a height - the wings will surely beat
And bear me up?

Shaking his robe. A mile of film we are wasting:
Why doesn't he jump? In these long seconds
What is he thinking?

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Barbara Ridler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Questions of Travel

There are too many waterfalls here; the crowded streams
hurry too rapidly down to the sea,
and the pressure of so many clouds on the mountaintops
makes them spill over the sides in soft slow-motion,
turning to waterfalls under our very eyes.
--For if those streaks, those mile-long, shiny, tearstains,
aren't waterfalls yet,
in a quick age or so, as ages go here,
they probably will be.
But if the streams and clouds keep travelling, travelling,
the mountains look like the hulls of capsized ships,
slime-hung and barnacled.

Think of the long trip home.
Should we have stayed at home and thought of here?
Where should we be today?
Is it right to be watching strangers in a play
in this strangest of theatres?
What childishness is it that while there's a breath of life
in our bodies, we are determined to rush

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Thought Waves

A thought wave on the wings of Time
becomes a mechanism rhyme
b[l]ends into 'truth' - if truth exists -
but if it doesn't, thought persists,
sifts trial from error, act from mime,
opens avenues, insists,
impatient, chafes at falsehood, crime,
scarce tolerates the pantomime
Earth's play puts forward through the mists
Time has heaped up from clime to clime.

A thought wave on Time's wings should soar
above dark clouds. An open door
can cul de sac swift reunite
to hole in fence - and thus despite
apparent limits more and more
we find white yins through black yangs write.
Discover therefore no 'before'
no 'after' matters, when zen's core
remains intact, allows insight

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Poet and Auditor

most people don't read poetry
And when, and if they do
reflect- upon what pertains to them
glance and pick at fruits

of another mind so bold and ripe
revealing the serious and tripe
not all words touch the right chords
replay pictures of the mind

the moods of both author and reader
in one point of time must be align
eclipse all other thoughts,
so that reflected, dawn on another

It is a marriage, a spoken contract
made in time, culture of the mime
read and reread, said and re said

poem by Shimon Weinroth
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Send me some words

Send me some words that my gasping hope may breathe
That my agitated thoughts may release my mind to sleep, to rest in peace
Send me a message that my panting passion may survive
That my mind pantomimes on sweet honey memories stolen from our past hive

Send me some tokens of our love
I expect no rib bond written on paper white dove
Nor letters in scripted in your own hands
To knit back our love in strong strains
Of new touched youth of a ring and vigor to sew the stands
Of our affection, souls connection that as that round ring is plain
So should our love regain its youth its origin and simplicity
No, send me not the coral that your fine wrist enfolds
Laced up together in harmonious congruity
To show that our thoughts should rest in the same hold
No, not your picture though most divine and gracious
And most desired, popular and the best
No, not witty lines, which are most copious,
Within the writing which you addressed

[...] Read more

poem by Isaac Ziv
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

(Reprise) Sandblasted Skin

Scrape it, grind it, peel it, hide it
The trend is over and gone forever
Shelf it, box it, save it, frame it
You won't need that anymore, it's on sale at the dollar store
Waste of time, pantomime, circus doll, at the local mall
Exterminate, it's all fake
Exterminate, it's all fake
Sandblast yourself
Sandblast yourself
Sandblast
Sandblast
It's getting old, old, old

song performed by Pantera
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

We're still lovers!

*Ali Baba (Arabic: ع ل ي ب ا ب ا ‎ ʿ Ali Bā ba) is a fictional character from medieval Arabic literature. He is described in the adventure tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Some critics believe that this story was added to One Thousand and One Nights by one of its European translators, Antoine Galland, an 18th-century French orientalist who may have heard it in oral form from a Middle Eastern story-teller from Aleppo. However, Richard F. Burton claimed it to be part of the original One Thousand and One Nights. The American Orientalist Duncan Black MacDonald discovered an Arabic-language manuscript of the legend at the Bodleian Library; [1] however, it was later found to be counterfeited.

This story has been used as a popular pantomime plot such as in the pantomime/musical Chu Chin Chow (1916) . Like many other folk tales frequently adapted for children, the original tale is darker and more violent than the more familiar bowdlerised versions. Popular perception of Ali Baba, and the way he is treated in popular media, sometimes implies that he was the leader of the 'Forty Thieves': in the story he is actually an 'honest man'[2] whom fortune enables to take advantage of the thieves' robberies.

When I cry
She smiles
And I asked why?
She said; 'You too smiled.'
Then we smiled together.
She sad; 'Hey! Mr.Grigori Rasputin life begins at forty! '
'O Is that true?
Then I am twenty now.
How about a Son? '
'Good idea.
And I want to send him to the University of Harvard to make him a kind Doctor to serve the poor people. What's your plan? '
'Really I want to send him to an Underground University to make him an *Ali Baba to snatch the decaying money in big banks for the needy! '
Again we smiled together as we realized that we're old now!

to my friend who's on leave now Paddy Martin!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Zodiac

Even the solar kinesis has restraints
A band of twelve figureless figures allures
Their pantomime enjoying the sun reposes
Buckled but we are at times
To laugh we cry to the deities
Unseen gods quietly in the game of celestials
Constellations anyway figure in the magazines
Over telecasts and broadcasts
On road-way palm-lines
You're foretold to name your fortunes
Aries to Pisces via Taurus toAquarius
Via Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpius
Sagittarius, Capricorn to make all friends

poem by Indira Renganathan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Meaning Often Lies Enveloped In Meaninglessness

A humping dog
A peeing frog
A laughing mole
Some burning coal
A focal twist
A spreading mist

Some green some blue
A daunting hue
A rotten fig
A smelly pig
Lovely house maid
A masquerade

A leaking patch
One lit match
A perfect catch
That egg will hatch
In given time
One dumb mime

[...] Read more

poem by Parul Panthri
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

My Talk of Dragons

My talk is never at cost, it does not earn wages,
The dragons and its language despise with buzzes.
The armour of the reptilian race shall be noble,
Force talking, force information from the abnormal.
My talk shall not enter prisons all the time,
Do not hear them who speak with a mime.
They are scared of dragons, for they wrote their words,
Arguing why they heard or not, even in the blizzards.
My sages will confer with me, and upright are the dragons
Who flew over my head and then encircled us with disruptions.

poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Old Town Types No. 16 - Mr Tank

'Twice one are two; twice two are four.'
I can still hear it floating thro' the old school door:
Those childish voices falling, rising in rhythmic chant,
In a room where heat is prevalent and ventilation scant.
'Twice nine are eight-teen.' And, presiding o'er the scene,
Like a demon in a 'panto,' blackavised and racked with pain,
Urging on the chorus faster, towers Mr Tank, the master,
With his mutton-chop whiskers and his cane
His cruel, thrice-accursed rattan cane.

Some incurable affliction soured his spirit, it was said;
For, above his brow, an ever-present plaster decked his head.
'Twice one are two; twice two are four -'
And suddenly the master disappeared behind the door.
For 'twas said, too, his affection had instilled a predilection
For too-frequent nips of liquor on the sly now and again.
And they boded fell disaster for gaunt Mr Tank, our master,
With his mutton-chop whiskers and his cane
His ever-swinging, torture-bringing cane.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fall.

When did I fall.
Our souls touched in mime.
As we held hands
At the ball.
And danced
In another rhyme.
Long ago
Before you would show
Your lovely face.
I would fall
In that ancient
Moonlit place.
A million years before
We knew
What sweet love
Could do.
When did we fall
To never
Hit the ground.
Explode,

[...] Read more

poem by Kevin East
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sad Wings Of Destiny

Mournful, yet grand is the destiny of man. Believing he can look destiny in the eye, without so much as flinching. And only after having swallowed the seeds of fate, did he find, they grew into hate. Making what was once water to the faithful, turn to nothing more, than blood, before the eyes of an unbeliever. Of all that man has been, or in his vanity, may come to believe, destiny, after having granted his wishes, also gave him more than he perceived. For only by the work of his own two hands, could such suffering be achieved. Leading him to fight against his destiny, even though, he had no hope of victory. Like pantomimes of white, on a background of black, his destiny, appears as a silken thread, lost in an endless labyrinth of time. Never knowing, only death transforms life into a destiny, for only death has no need for time. Having denied love, he sealed his fate. Unable to find the meaning and never seeing the truth of life, that it may only be found with another, but not alone. Fear, merely encouraged his ignominy and transported him to the nether world, where he will at last, take his final flight, on the sad wings of destiny

poem by Eric Paeplow
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Cataract Operation

The sun comes like a head
through last night's turtleneck.
A pigeon in the yard turns tail
and offers me a card. Any card.

From pillar to post, a pantomime
of damp, forgotten washing

on the washing line.
So, in the breeze:

the olé of a crimson towel.
the cancan of a ra ra skirt,

the monkey business of a shirt
pegged only by its sleeve,

the cheerio

[...] Read more

poem by Simon Armitage
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Band Wore Blue Shirts

I don't know why they come here
I'm only glad they do
They're gonna pay the bills for me and you
People out for an evening
They have a real good time
But when i play i feel just like i'm miming
I made a stand for the music
To turn the page with ease
I got the smile that says i'm here to please
Me and the bass guitarist
Have even shined our shoes
The drummer's shoes are dirty to confuse
I guess someday my kids will ask me 'bout the old days
I guess that i'll tell them that there ain't much to tell
The waiters wore black dinner jackets and all that kind of thing
And the band wore blue shirts
And the music played on
Then at the end of the evening
They throw the suckers out
Don't get me wrong, i got no beef about it

[...] Read more

song performed by Joe Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Bora Ring

The song is gone; the dance
is secret with the dancers in the earth,
the ritual useless, and the tribal story
lost in an alien tale.

Only the grass stands up
to mark the dancing-ring; the apple-gums
posture and mime a past corroboree,
murmur a broken chant.

The hunter is gone; the spear
is splintered underground; the painted bodies
a dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot.
The nomad feet are still.

Only the rider's heart
halts at a sightless shadow, an unsaid word
that fastens in the blood of the ancient curse,
the fear as old as Cain.

poem by Judith Wright
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Emphasis - Does Prose Satisfy?

Do rhyme and structure strangle sense,
Or emphasize emotions which
Eclectic rhythms render rich?
Stress reinforces verse, intense
Pleasure may be felt, with scents
Recalled from seasons past. Why stitch
On prose per prose that joy, its switch
So seldom magic supplements.
Excessive style is sterile, whence
Some seem to say that those who ditch
A long tradition feel the itch
To sense in rhyme mime or pretence.
It could be this misrepresents
So much which should be shared, keyed pitch.
Facts dry may well define a rose,
Yet can its scent pour through poor prose?

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Winds of Change...

I sat across the street gazing at time,
Only to witness a grand robbery yet not a crime,
I asked time a question and it did mime,
In it's wondrous gestures which do claim,
That a change is essential in this evolving world,
It's absence could make everything to curl.

A change for the better is always welcome,
Many wonderful discoveries were the outcome,
A change is inevitable, everyone must sail the ship,
Failing to do so one is orphaned alone in the devil's grip,
A change for the good is good to change,
So embrace the time with the 'Winds Of Change'.

poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!