TODAY, TOMORROW, AND FORGET IT GEOFF WEILERT I really like to look at maps And find places Iíd like to goíta Like Morrow, Ohio; Knight, Indiana And the small town Day, Minnesota.
So I began to plan my trip And to help me guide my way I went to my telephone, And called up Triple A.
I told the lady on the phone,, That tomorrow Iíd like to go to Day Then maybe go to Morrow tonight If you could find a way.
Because, yesterday I went to Knight And today I could go to Morrow Tomorrow I still plan to go to Day And return to Knight tomorrow.
She then said, ďPardon me, I fear we have one of those bad connections, Because I did not understand a word you said And cannot give directions.Ē
Well, tomorrow I still need to go to Day Perhaps to go to Morrow today, I need to return to Knight tomorrow To finish what I started yesterday.
ďWell sirĒ, she said Iíve heard you twice, And still I canít digest ití So donít call us, weíll cal you, And next time just Map Quest it.Ē
SQUALOR AND CHIPS.
By Ruth Walters
My angel of the night
came down the stairs of morning
his hair, brown locks of greasiness,
his mouth, those sweet lips, yawning.
He stopped three steps from earth that day
and looked at something far away
but then, as I began to pray,
he stepped over and ignored them.
He took four steps across the room
he missed the cloth, the pan, the broom
the squashed chips below his feet,
upon the kitchen flooring!
Alas my fallen angel there,
sat his bottom on a chair
and with hand sweeping through his hair
ate his breakfast without care.
Without care for chips all squashed
flattened on that kitchen floor
A floor so needy for a wash
and I exclaimed to him, ďOh Golly Gosh!Ē
I brought the mop, the bucket too
I cleaned the floor the sink, the loo
and then I had a notion to;
but my angel wouldnít let me through.
Squashed chips on the kitchen floor
last nights washing up.
Sticky table, ashtrays full
and an empty coffee cup.
SOCK IT TO ME Linda Mannke
When my laundry has been spun My pairs of socks come back as one. Where they go I do not know . . . I just keep searching high and low. I keep the singles even though . . . Just in case some day they show. Perhaps one stripe and one argyle Will one day be a new sock style. Until then sock makers hear my plea . . . Make those socks in pairs of three!
T rex, ten times the size of man. With claws the size of the human skull. With its massive jaws, it rages out at the weak plant eaters. Each drop of blood, makes him happy. This great dinosaur has no friends, he'll eat them all for lunch and dinner. And for breakfast, well just their precious eggs. Its skull could crush a human flat. Also uses his skull to attack the enemies. With a roar that is heard miles away. You don't want to be friendly with this great beast.
THE FIRST SNOW By Barbara Alyea-Welches
Winter rushed in, it was cold, it was wet.
We knew it would blizzard, by night-time and bed.
A flurry of wind, turning bright white. somehow, lit up the dark, cloudy night.
The wind picked up, it looked so cold. We shivered from our heads to out toes.
Blowing and drifting, we all heard it groan. It was fierce, it was mighty, this winter storm.
We hugged and we huddled, Ďneath covers below. And , watched out the window, at the first winter snow.
SILENTLY SPEAKING simone castillo
silent like the stillness that i seek when i breathe in deeply is a silence forever precious to this soft petal of my heart where my dreams are dreamed and first felt where my contemplation's of stumbling down crumble, frowns swallowed up by the simplest quiet fears wrapped up in the widest blanket of silence that is
silent like the wind that swims through me when i glance to you and you place your mind into my eyes you say nothing and tell me everything i feel something in you that is a way of hush communicating like silence that is
silent like the place in me that is slowly patient, inviting and massive quiet enough that when i listen i can hear me saying to my self how silently precious the mild quiet is to me and how happy i am to be me.
STANDING, STILL JOSHUA N. STRAUME
No one appealed to what was best in me
For years I stood under their weight, And I never asked why it was too much to bear- They donít care where you get your strength, Once theyíve built their perfect future
Something so big, you canít wrap your mind around it Theyíll wonder why you break And leave you fallen, standing On the wreckage of your past
Theyíll leave you fallen, standing, Well Iím standing, still, Out of sight, out of mind Tired, and alone
i wish i could fly so high that i could touch the sky so high that i could touch a cloud with no one else around them those people you know those people spying back stabbing people they are here they there they must be everywhere so i wish oh i wish i could fly so far away those people would sigh what have i done.
My lungs werenít made for breathingÖ Joe Buhler
My lungs werenít made for breathing, I think I might have lost this feeling.
This is the thing that we both started, But the ending I never wanted.
I never thought it would break me down, Guess it was just my turn to frown.
Hope itís everything you always wished for, Because thatís my heart lying motionless on the floor.
Whoever thought you could shine so bright, Especially when the clock struck midnight.
Itís time to let go she said, Will I be able to stop these voices in my head?
Now Iím stuck in this imposition, I should have made a decision.
The last time I walked the other way, Is the reason I drop to my knees and pray.
These lungs werenít made for breathing, Now I think I am leaving..
An Anarchist's Prayer
I climb this hill in my mind
With dreams floating up above in the sky And I sigh as I take my paintbrush And paint the rest of the night Society's dreamers it is time to take flight
The time has come when we must step forward And not with a crushing fist, but a simple wish Break down the cultural barriers and restore rights that never were The time has come when we must step forward Opening up the hearts of men Shattering prejudice, intolerance, and sexism
Our fingerprints are on the bodies of the oppressed The poor and exploited, the beaten and discarded, the forgotten Now our hands must go out and tear off the ropes binding them Opening up the hearts of men They shall feel love for the first time.
Equal in every right, both men women and children We are the people, not of America But of the World The time has come For the Age of Good
THE RED COCKATOO
A cockatoo was sent from the South To the Emperor of Manchu He sang the warm song of the southern wind With a voice like a silver flute.
His plumage was crimson and cinnabar Like a red chrysanthemum His heart, as intense as a splendid sea A tremulous Chinese drum.
Bell like carols pure as white morn He sang for the court of Manchu All the princes with their oblique eyes Were amazed at the cockatoo.
And the slant eyed courtiers in their silken coats Each with a raven queue Soft saffron robes and quiet laughing smiles Bowed to the cockatoo.
So the Emperor gave him a golden cage Since he sang so wondrously And locked him away, forever enclosed In gilded captivity.
Yet his soul was a song and it flew like a poem Beyond the Manchu gate Down rivers of dreams and streams of flowers Where the winds of Heaven wait.
P. A. McCarron
A girl died today Shai Wall Tangerine
A girl died today what was I to do? What was I to say? I Had to think it through. What If? What if the body were of someone I knew or loved? Could I bear the Pain? when 'push' comes to 'shove', Would I be left in the rain? What if it were I being the horrid sight? What if it were me? The girl who closed her eyes? Would I be able to take flight? Would I soar through the skies? What if? What if it were my brother or sister? My mother or a mister, someone that I did not know? Would pity be there? Would sympathy show?
A Cycle (Triolet) by Bill Albright
Dawn again and morning Confirms my existence Repeat the cycle warning Dawn again and morning Once again this day replacing Night with light, a time past tense Dawn again and morning Confirms my existence.
Haiku Sergey Merkuliev
I looked for address Long & everywhere But Building was pulled down
I aimed but Target was accurately Spat with white gum
I found her photo But she seemed someday To change her face
Sweet Land nolan
take me home to the sweet land where everyone holds hands where the grass is green and the the sky is blue and the fruit is sweet please take me home where the land is sweet
Left Behind -Nelson
Life get's longer You get stonger but yet i stay the same with a smile on my face i struggle to keep the pace and try to hide the shame of a meaningless existence getting shorter day by day wondering if i'll ever change or if i'll just stay this way.
water a mirror
fragments disrupt images
nature takes it's course
the invincible storm tri tran
Far, in the cold eastland, Crimson fire flutters, helplessly, Lonesome branches vibrate, Cherries, scattered by the shivering pond.
Wind in the vortex of the nights, Howling, a wolf in endless hunger. Angry tentacles sweep the nation, Blazing eyes, endlessly, gleam.
Cries of the owls echo through seas, Indigo waves soars into the foggy air, Fluorescent embers in the empty sky, Waking the Gods and the devils.
As I gaze upon you,
you were shining quietly on the sky.
I can feel that is beauty in your quietness and calm, It seem like you are undisturbed by the worldly affairs.
I like to gaze upon you,
because you are beautiful as the diamond, and when I see you, I feel I am like you, put all the problems away just to enjoy the quiet moments with you under the whispering of the gentle night wind, the buzz of the insect.
Just A Smile Dean
I am, just a smile Who will I touch Who can I touch I want to bring you back from many miles. I am just a smile That wants to make the world smile.
Life is beautiful , Every day of Life has shine , Every time of the Life speared love to other So , Every time , Every moment has become pleasant to Everyone, If thought of the every person becomes good .
Make our Life as Tree , Flower , Sun , Moon , River , Earth and Wind It not made any difference to the earth.
Equal everyone .
So, make yourself or Built yourself as these. So, our world become Beautiful , Peaceful , livable .
A Stone Age forward-thinker, Defied the tribal law When he ceased to hunt or gather, And decided he would draw.
He was very nearly outcast, But he bartered with the tribe. He concocted a win-win Which he commenced then to describe.
ďIf Iím allowed to draw And remain here with you all, To you Iíll give eternal life Through my pictures on the wall.
Iíll draw our way of living; The world seen through our eyes. And in doing so, ensure, That our history never dies.Ē
They accepted his proposal; Consent to him they gave. And thus they live forever Through the drawings in their cave.
Falling 50 feet from above In search of her white dove No longer will she cry No longer will she lie Reasons beyond your imagination Such a drastic transformation Once a silent angel Now a silent statistic.
Not one gave their hand To help her stand Not one showed care To help her bear Not one showed love.
Lost within But condemned to sin? In the pursuit of perfection Due to lack of affection.
They say thin I say inadequate kin.
Mindless Music a nonsense poem Mindless Music. Jose Osoria The song is noise. Please turn off that awful voice.
The mindless music that I hear. Continues on even when I tear.
I'll knock and knock on their door. Too bad their sound level is so awfully poor.
The rockers are forcing me to move. To a place where only cows moo.
misconceptions. scooter wilson. 2002
so fake it even smells like butter, queezy. in the arms of wasted time, believing lies. this wont get you down, this is not your town. watch me i am the worm hiding in the trees. swift but unappealing, time ticks on like nothing. she stands up in the corner watching leaves fall. into the big picture sweating away the memories. it is cold outside but i am not there. to unfold in the morning dew i am losing you to pretend that this day is new im losing you wrap around the english man creating coffee. swing it down to me as i crave for more. i am nothing but what you say im not. nothing has ever been this clear. touch the ground like a finger pointing to the sky. and tell me if it feels like the world is leaving you. i will tell you to hold on and bring you back. to the life that you thought you knew.
LOST MOMENTS by Lewis Dalton
I cannot remember Your sweet smile, The turn of your head, Try as I might. You perhaps were a dream, Gone with all my yesterdays. Lost, perhaps, In too many moods. Changing my mind. Shades like colors, Lost in the sunset, Not quite remembered. And yet - Those moments were sweet. How I long to recapture even one.
NEXT WEEK, IíLL CRY By: Wanda James
Next week, on Wednesday morningÖno, on Thursday afternoon Iím going to sit down and cry.
Iím going to cry until my head aches and my Ears get hot. Iím going to cry until my eyes hurt and I Have to put cold water on them to stop the burning.
Iím going to cry for things shared and Not appreciated. Iím going to cry for things promised yet, Never received Ė 15 minutes of happiness or 10 minutes of peace.
Iím going to cry for directions taken And changes made mid-stream. Iím going to cry for old times and new times And times I canít really recall.
Iím going to cry for past hurts and future hurts And hurts that really shouldnít have mattered at all.
Iím going to cry for emptiness and fullness and Halfway feelings in between. Iím going to cry forÖ
No Iím notÖ.I donít have time to cry.
strength novata jones
UNITED WE STAND DIVIDED WE FALL AGAINST THESE HARD BRICK WALLS OF SEGREGATION THAT ALMOST DESTROYED A BLACK NATION WE SURVIVED AT A HIGH COST YES WE SURVIVED OUR OWN BLACK HOLOCAUST.
SLIGHTLY DREAMING Infinity Bring forth the sun with rays of brilliance To shine on this face of porcelain Send a soft soothing rain, to wash away the pain.
Arrive a silhouette tall with eyes of green and hair of black; a velvet soul to bend the ache in the heart of silken glass, the soft curves of smooth, texture and limbs that bend.
Ahhhhhhhh...to dream the dream, to touch the statue for real. The clouds now, the sun and rain are gone, they are so soft and gentle, the whisper.......... -0-
SPIRAL STAIRCASE Manisha
Itís all about movements Prick and sip the drops of blood Stare at the lion and the Unicorn Tied in their perspectives.
Whereís the gaze The bow and the arrow Death in the eyes Of your strongest ally?
What goes up must come down Or else break the code The fingers will be the same Which write your death sentence.
Somewhere up there the sky In the eye of the storm So much to die for Too much to live.
The world can end up now And leave time to brood Or fix us upon the wall To forget to forgive.
Poems Copyright ©
designated authors 2006.
Page Copyright © AHApoetry.com 2006.