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Poetry |
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Tell Me Again
By Nicholas Boldock
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Tell me again how you saw me in the queue
How my eyes drew you in
How my wrinkled shirt made you laugh and broke the ice
Tell me again how you looked and looked
Hoping we would meet again
And remind me how you smiled when finally you found me.
Tell me again how you thought we'd be together
'Til we grew too old to talk
And could only sit and hold hands in the dark
Tell me again how you dreamed about our children
And our happy little home
And remind me how it was you came to change your mind so quickly.
Tell me again why it was you had to whisper
Why your eyes were so damn guilty
When I landed at your side
Tell me again why you were suddenly so caustic
How you burned me with your looks
And how all your empty promises were even worse than lies.
Tell me again why you had to pull me inwards
Why you tried to make me love it
Though you knew it wouldn't last
Tell me again why you thought I wouldn't notice
How you fooled yourself for pleasure
And how the comfort of your eyes was like a bed of broken glass.
© Nicholas Boldock, May 2nd, 2003
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Poetry - Ode to the Mole By Terry Bugbearer
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I have a love I dare not tell
For a small burrowing animal
It's not a weasel, stoat or vole
but the small, industrious mole.
He makes hills out of my lawn
to his earthy mounds I am always drawn.
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Poetry - Wanted You To Know By Rhonnie Besonday
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Mommy, I had to talk to you,
And tell you some things.
I wanted to say I love you,
And I have always understood.
I know why you did what you did,
And how much it has hurt you since.
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Poetry - I'm Sorry Once Again. By Amy, 16
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I'm sorry if I ever made you unhappy
I'm sorry that I ever made you cry.
I did it all unintentionally.
I didn't mean to lie.
I'm sorry if you ever thought I wasn't there for you
I'm sorry that it took me this long to see
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Poetry - The Reading Will Start Shortly By Patrick Henry
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Catching planes briskly as a smart executive
Crossing the globe to arms talks or trade tariffs,
I land at many ports to collect ripe pub stories,
Or to read poems in suspicious small back rooms.
Who are these figures in the gloom who cough or clap?
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Poetry - Voice at the Edge By Patrick Henry
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News reports twenty-four tongues die out each year.
Every fifteen days one might say goodbye
In its own words, never spoken beyond
Scant enclaves; pronounced on its dying day
By a handful of landless outcasts
In wild tracts of Asia hard to find
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Poetry - Bernard Cribbins - a Disturbing Psychological Study
By Kingrat
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Bernard Cribbins collected ribbons
He stored them on a glass bottomed boat
Bernard Cribbins collected ribbons
They were eaten by a man-eating stoat
Now some of you may find this rather amusing, but some of these ribbons had been cribbinses family
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Poetry - The Lost Generation By Darren Sant
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A boy steals a car for a thrill
An hour later he pops a pill
The Internet generation is cyber fucked
Life ended with a shotgun loaded and locked
McDonalds casually slung from cars
Beagle goes missing on Mars
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Poetry - from...By Harry Slater
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epitomize silence
in the cold
in the dark
there are no words
only echoes of breath
flakes of dead skin
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Poetry - Care less? & No Matter By Lee Cassanell
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No matter what you do
No matter who you are,
No matter if you play the fool or even play guitar.
No matter if you talk to trees and they don't answer back,
No matter if your Girlfriend leaves or you don't pot the black,
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Poetry - Me and Jimbob, Lonesome Wail, and
Always that way By The Lazyswede
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Me & Jimbob out with the hound dog walking through them woods
Didn't see no sign of turkey all the time
Just a possum and a skunk
Then we heard a rustling in the pine trees
Thought our luck had changed
To our surprise before our eyes
A grizzly a running came ..
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Poetry - AND IT SHALL COME TO PASS.. By Ken Hartford
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If I admit responsibility
For the life that comes my way,
Then I feel I own my body,
But that is just to say
I take my responsibility
For giving it some care
And that might apply to everyone
And to everything everywhere.
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Poetry - Spirit of Woody Guthrie
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By Patrick Henry
These voices rising to a tremulous high C.,
Sad as a song created by old Woody G.,
Who long searched the home of the brave for the land of the free,
But found it's only left deep inside you and me.
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Poetry - "I'm Doing Life", by Shelly D.
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I don't do happy,
I don't do laughter,
I'm not easy going or relaxed,
I'm not careful or carefree,
I don't go with the flow I'm not laid back,
I'm doing life.
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Poetry - The Egotist By Cilla
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Tell me I'm great
Tell me I'm good
If you were a real friend
I'm sure that you would.
And why not be friends?
You're so good for me
But only when you tell
What I want to see ..
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