Last whiskey with Charles
a good night in a border town
ME PLURRY ORANGE SOCKS.
Have you ever been to Orange in the middle of Winter ? All you need is some warm clothes & a Toddy. The locals don't seem to mind the Winter but the travellers certainly feel it. It certainly was an eye opener for this visitor and I have never forgotten the warm hospitality....Maymyo.
Do you feel the breeze
Do you feel the breeze Wind envelopes sways the tree Branches now blown away Dancing in the breeze Birds hold on tight Blown from their peaches That wind howls tonight winds gather up Rain facets paces darkened skies night and day da
The Sound of Truth
We have all heard what we wanted to hear "Truth" that sounds right to our ears But what wisdom is there within us To live based on the feeling of our hearts How many times has instinct let us down Never to be thought through Never to be quest
SharonF
* An inner west Sydney suburb.
She Gets By with Saying I'm Sorry
She gets by with saying I'm sorry While I get stuck with a broken heart Women get away with a lot of things And it happens right from the start She's had a really good life While I'm still waiting on the lottery She made somebody else a reall
Up Hill Battle Down Hill Age
It's an up hill battle and a down hill age But don't say I didn't try I wrote I love you on about every page And someday will come when you see goodbye Old men shouldn't write love letters That's for the young at heart to have such treasures
Masks?
We got the word that starting in June there will be no masks required at work if you have your covid shots and have two weeks after, then they put a sticker on your badge. Those who are afraid of the shots have to keep wearing those darn masks.
In your shadow
To one who knows
DAFFODILS
This is one of the most famous of Lyric Poetry ever written...
Let Me Play >
Let Me Play > In Your Garden Where The Warm Lily Grows Swollen In Time Up Through The Moist Grass Wet With Dew
Love on the edge of town
tread carefully
Two Stars and The Moon
Here's a little romantic imagery to brighten up a lonely soul.
LOVING YOU
oh sha na na na sha na na na na sha na na na na
Until We Meet Again
In Memory of my Precious daughter who left me 23yrs ago,this day.Time passes but memories never will.
Vivo in un posto ...
Vivo in un posto dove le onde arrivano sotto la casa. Un giorno sono giocose e piene di simpatia, L’altro giorno sono minacciose e ti sputano in faccia tutta la loro rabbia, Facendo rumore di un treno impazzito. Ma ogni volta cercano di dirmi qua
Space
One of my biggest disappointments is the lack of funding of space programs. The first man on the moon cost around three percent of the government's budget and ended in 1975. We are moving forward once again towards Mars, but still the political will is not there to put up some real cash towards this goal.
Words
There are words that are not words they are just but symbols of a meaning that brings upon a hidden feeling that cannot be described
Patience
You keep sane on rainy days you make me smile when your not looking you steer our ship to a beautiful place where you wait for me to stop sulking
Not
It is not this body that you see that is me it is I who lives within can you see that is me
DOPO DI ME
Dopo di me voglio che nulla rimanga di me. Bruciatemi, affidate le mie ceneri ad un vento tenero e giudizioso O ad una tempesta amara e disperata. Decidono loro che cosa fare di me senza dover prendere la decisione. Non voglio nessun giudizio, n
Sonnet #16
Time is one of my most Treasured Assets; so this is an interesting Sonnet that sums it up for me....
Auguries of Innocence (By William Blake)
This poem has always caught my attention, especially the first verse. It certainly makes you think about life and its consequeces. Auguries of Innocence is a poem from one of William Blake's notebooks now known as The Pickering Manuscript.[ It is assumed to have been written in 1803, but was not published until 1863 in the companion volume to Alexander Gilchrist's biography of William Blake. The poem contains a series of paradoxes which speak of innocence juxtaposed with evil and corruption. The poem is 132 lines and has been published with and without breaks that divide the poem into stanzas. An augury is a sign or omen
Song CCCXXIX
Translation from the Russian language edition of Petrarch’s “Song Book”, Song CCCXXIX On April 6, 1327, after Petrarch gave up his vocation as a priest, the sight of a woman called Laura in the church of Sainte-Claire d’Avignon awoke in him a lasting passion, celebrated in the collection of 366 poems “Canzoniere” ("Song Book"). Laura may have been Laura de Noves the wife of Count Hugues de Sade (an ancestor of the Marquis de Sade). There is little definite information in Petrarch's work concerning Laura, except that she is lovely to look at, fair-haired, with a modest, dignified bearing. Laura and Petrarch had little or no personal contact. According to his "Secretum", she refused him for the very proper reason that she was already married to another man. He channeled his feelings into love poems. Upon her death in 1348, the poet found that his grief was as difficult to live with as was his former despair. Later in his "Letter to Posterity", Petrarch wrote: "In my younger days I struggled constantly with an overwhelming but pure love affair – my only one, and I would have struggled with it longer had not premature death, bitter but salutary for me, extinguished the cooling flames. I certainly wish I could say that I have always been entirely free from desires of the flesh, but I would be lying if I did".
Illusion of love
Dont know why this, as it's not that great but, feeling a bit disillusioned lately.
I Got It Anyway
Now that my heartaches are gone I'll be moving on And I'm glad that tomorrow will bring a brand new day She didn't want to give me closure but I got it anyway The ending was kind of loud like a motorcycle on a steep grade And when the noise
Don't Cry
“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other” Audrey Hepburn Music and lyrics A. Bogolyubov Performed by Tatyana Bulanova I translated the lyrics for your pleasure, dear poets! Enjoy the song! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5mJ5Xt-kIM&list=PLXq0k62_OCkWPql7RpGJl6rpHmNoBIsRl&index=4
Prayer
Written by Ilya Chavchavadze - the great Georgian poet . Thank you, dear poets, for inspiring me with your poetry!
The Poet Weeps
a poem I wrote years ago
Not every day can be roses and wine
a poem i wrote years ago
Sonnet #17
In the earlier sonnets, the poet's main concern was to persuade the youth to marry and reproduce his beauty in the creation of a child. That purpose changes here in Sonnet 17, in which the poet fears that his praise will be remembered merely as a "poet's rage" that falsely gave the youth more beauty than the youth actually possessed, thus expressing an insecurity about his poetic creations that began in the preceding sonnet. This disparaging tone concerning the sonnets is most evident in line 3, in which the poet characterizes his poetry as a "tomb." Such death imagery is appropriate given the frequent incorporation of time, death, and decay images throughout the first seventeen sonnets. Ironically, the poet, who has been so concerned about the young man's leaving behind a legacy at death to remind others of his priceless beauty, is now worried about his own future reputation. Will his poems be ridiculed by readers who disbelieve the poet's laudatory praise of the young man's beauty? Not, says the poet, if the youth has a child by which people can then compare the poet's descriptions of the youth's beauty to the beauty of the youth's child — now asking the youth to have a child in order to confirm the poet's worthiness. The sonnet's concluding couplet links s*xual procreation and versification as parallel activities: "But were some child of yours alive that time, / You should live twice — in it and in my rime." The poet's task is an endless struggle against time, whose destructive purpose can only be frustrated by the creation of fresh beauty or art, which holds life suspended.
Sonet #22
Forever Young
Love on the second floor
afternoon delight
ME
I believe we all see a shadow of our real selves...... x
Your world is different from my world
My world is like a river There is no storm to suffer It's calm and it's smooth Its wave is tiny and gentle. Your world is like a sea It's rough and choppy Strong wind, huge storms sometimes visit It's raging and not happy. In the river, I
Death's Opus
Here, On the other side of the page where lost days go, where lost poems go, where forgotten dreams are breaking up like morning fog. Go..... Go..... Go..... I am preparing myself for death. I am teaching myself emptiness; the gambler
Perspective...
Lost my VERY OLD account, decided to create another to share a few thoughts. Dan
CALLING ALL POETS!
Please add a line. Let it take the poem forwards. Allow it to be as open as possible for the next line that follows. You can add more than one line, but no consecutive additions. Let's see where it leads. Let's try for about 2/3 weeks worth. I'll compile and publish it on here at the end of that time.
If I Was Your Man
If I was your man I would help you stand I would hold you up and pull you out your sinking sands And I know its hard for you to trust a man But if I'm anyone, I'm the one you truly can I know you got your walls And girl, I understand You ta
a three lined poem
This talks about .... Looking at the autumn sky at dawn. A scenic beauty. As the dawn breaks to a new day, the faint dark night brightens up to a new day. However, it's autumn. Leaving the three warm seasons behind and experiencing the cold of winter. Though everything is being lit up by the warm sun, the warmth disappear to a wintry cold instead. Life can be an autumn dawn. A season of pleasant weather and dawn a period of time which darkness creeps to light. However, as the dawn gives way to a bright sky, it is the end of autumn. Darkness may have left but autumn paves it's way to a winter chill. We may pass through events of life-a dark path then there's light. Night can turn to day and day turns into night again.It's the cycle of life
The Wise Man
Many of us speak on things without root knowledge. And because of not having root knowledge we usually will speak about anything, positively or negatively, without full facts. We become self righteous on many levels and eventually become false prophets. And the more we attract ignorant crowds who embrace our incompleteness, the more monstrous we become.
Imagination
Transitional poetry about an illusionary moment set in time.