Most Commented Poems (34,330)

It used to be they'd throw them out.
Not much meat there was no doubt.
Someone cooked them up with sauce
Scarffed them down and no longer toss.

They discovered a fine and tasty new treat.
Easy to make and much easier to eat.
What was this food that was discovered?
Will it catch on and stay uncovered?

Chicken wings, that's the food.
No longer just catfood my hungry dude.
BBQ with saunce and have for dinner.
Add special recipes and you'll be a sinner.

Had them in places you would not linger.
But wonderful wings,stay and lick your fingers!
Places I'd drive an hour each way,
Just to have their wing special that day.

Wings, wings that's the thing.
Whole restaurants now hear Ca ching!
Started off pennies a piece for a wing.
Now order some and hope you're a king!

I want to touch your skin at night
Gently, with my hand, with my lips
I wont even wake you up
Quietly I will watch you asleep

Once I asked you who am I for you
-"You'r my dream which will never come true"
Now I want you to remove that "never",
Wrap me in your arms...
I long for you

I made my coffee
For two again
By mistake.

I hold my cup,
I can not drink it,
I put it back.

I feel you near
From everywhere
You look at me.

I’ll hide my tears,
Though price was high,
I lived my dream.

He found her, on other side of earth

He read her writings and with just few words

He was intoxicated...

He thought she was a perfect dream,
too far she was and yet too close,
an image of perfection,
light and charity.


And she was waiting, counting the days
He was her dream, a man from far away

A man who cares, who protects, who loves
A man who goes out of his way
to find her, on other side of earth...

My woman is a wild flower
She fills my garden with grace
Lures me with her sweet fragrance
With such a brilliant radiant face
I love her long tender blossoms
On a strong leggy stem her base
Her face is made of soft petals
Her curling hair fringed lace
She is beauty from a distance
she catches my eye in every place
Up close she captures my heart
When she falls into my embrace

Caressing your hand below the knuckles
A kiss to your forehead oh so insanely tender
Flirting with so many laughs and chuckles
Mixed feelings as if combined in a blender

Talking so sincerely when waiting for pizza
You walked beside me oh so intently spritely
A rose to make you happy when I greet ya
Talking to you oh so candid and politely

A better man whenever I was near you
Your natural sweetness never seemed to wane
A feeling I had and I knew you had it too
Poignant moments we shall never have again

I looked at you with that wonderful smile
So happy and natural to exude such true joy
You looked into my eyes for such a long while
You made me feel like a young love struck boy

If love makes one smitten then surely I was
If happiness makes one most beautiful you were
I fell for you so hard...why...you know because
Both our spirits and hearts began to yearn and stir

A bottle of wine and memories of laughing
Stories told to display ones character and soul
Caresses, kisses, hesitant words but refreshing
Only fragments now that exact their cruel toll

On Christmas Eve I wish you, dear friends,
In joy you are so sad - in sadness merry,
So far on distant continents and lands,
You are so close to me - I wish I had you near.

Heart hardly can contain the love I carry,
To each and every one I stretch my hand
And wish God's grace upon you, wish you plenty!

Believe my words, we have no other way:
This corner is a chance, there aren't so many.
The one for all and all for one to burden take,
You are so close to me - I wish I had you near.

I approached the old steel bridge
which stretched accross the frozen
lake in the misty morn of December..
In the pocket of my old coat my hand
clenched tightly the note I had held
for weeks..
I reached and pulled my colar tight to
my neck as seagulls skid accross the
ice shores of this snowbound land..
The sun was but a pale light illumining
a gray skyscape..
Many times we had walked to the center
of this bridge and gazed at the stary
night..
But life had called her to distant shores
where the army was in need of nurses..
The wounded were coming in droves and
the war seemed to stretch on forever..
Her military picture was all I had and for
two years I would sit on my steps gazing
at an image who kept my heart beating in
lonely dark nights..
But we had made plans to reunite on our
favorite bridge..our secret place of
meeting..
She said she would be returning home soon
yet for three weeks I've returned to this
bridge to find only a cold walkway and the
the squalks of the gulls..
It seemed tonight would be no different
and I tired of the painfully cold wind
and the chilling cold steel railings on
the bridge..
I turned and began walking home and at
the far end of the bridge a figure moved
toward me with graceful stride..
Not sure..I thought..
My head perked up and my gait tried to
match the graceful stride of this
stranger..
It seemed..yes..perhaps it was..
It appeared to be ..It was a military
uniform!
My heart began beating faster!
I could see that smile!
The hair was short but I knew that walk!
Twenty yards away she began humming that
secret tune we shared..
I couldn't contain myself..I ran..she was
running!
We collided like like lost lovers in paradise..
For five minutes we clung
for dear life in each others arms..
I was crying..she was crying, and through our
choked tears and cold winter kisses she kept
whispering, 'I am home my love, I am home..'
We walked accross the bridge in snuggled embrace
and I reached down in my pocket and tossed the
note to the wind..
A gull swooped down and snatching the note soared
accross the icy lake-
The note simply read: We'll meet in December~

Trinkets of time
Capsules for healing
These memories mine
Greedily concealing
Timeless images
That are mine alone
Through the ages
Carved to the bone
Secured by my insecurity
I'll take them to the grave
Prescious framed clarity
Veiled moments to save

[Lorenz’s Butterfly effect:

In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions; where a small change at one place in a nonlinear system can result in large differences to a later state. For example, the presence or absence of a butterfly flapping its wings could lead to creation or absence of a hurricane.]

Wikipedia


As the sand on the dunes of the desert shifts, so do we,
Layer upon layer, we are Shifting in and out of character,
Much like Shakespearean artistes of yesteryear,
Puppets in an eternal dream…


Our moods are as fickle as an elevator,
One moment up, next moment down,
An inane word here, an inane look there,
Give rise to emotional typhoons,
No less potentially destructive in their effect than their tropical counterparts in the northwestern part of the Pacific Ocean bearing between 180° and 100°E …


You may be sitting on your sea-shore balcony, politely minding your own innocent business, enjoying organic coffee and chocolate-raisin-stuffed-Polish candy with your beloved, when out of nowhere your emotional equilibrium is shattered… By what cataclysmic event? The young woman on the floor below and across you naively flashes an ivory-flavored thigh as she cleans her floor…
She’s blissfully unaware of the cyclone of lust she’s unleashed in the up-to-then idle male eyes…
Wow!!! Talk about a Shift…, talk about the ‘butterfly’ effect, sigh…


This same irredeemably masculine mind, may, just a few hours later, be listening to Neale Donald Walsch’s live net seminar broadcast from halfway around the world, allowing itself to be meditatively taken to g_d’s bosom, and, experience the omnipresent peace of divinity…,
As spaced out as any Saibaba devotee reclining at the master’s feet…


Shifting…


Or, you may be routinely stepping out of your apartment complex for a greasy gyro at the corner on a Mediterranean Friday night, when, suddenly, from across the boulevard, melodious jazz tunes caress your eardrums…, emitted by a saxophone player at the wine boutique,
Like a lamb to the thrilling slaughter, you go and imbibe of the complementary French Cabernet Sauvignon and sundry aperitifs,
Chatting idly with the leggingly-alluring Russian hostesses doesn’t hurt either…
You surrender, this time, to an enticing and mellow Shift, but, what a Shift from a run of the mill greasy gyro…


Shifting…, shifting…, shifting…,
Such are “…the days of our lives…”, rolling on inexorably, “…like sands through the hourglass…”, with apologies to NBC…


Happy Shifting…