It was not me - poetry
It was not me as I am now.
Thus, it was not me who hurt you so,
Now I can certainly see it was not me, who scarred you so.
You have to see it was not me as I was before,
I hear you say that it was not you who hurt me so.
I was only a boy, ten-year-old boy when my parents abused me so.
I came to you to help me heal.
Your loving tone of voice made me trust you even more.
When you put me on your lap, you gave me a hug.
But when you put your hands in my pants,
It was you who said that the God in you
But you did not say that by you emotive me that way,
Now that I am a grown man,
Now you can see why I must go;
Oh my son, delight do not go,
Like a cat I slumber, delightfully unencumbered, Through eighty per cent of my fixed span, Occasionally awoken, when difference of opinion is spoken, And I cook up a further cunning five year plan, Lately it was pensions, that were being mentioned, So I rented from the French and Robespierre, Scrap all that went before, saved by tooth and claw, And let my all equal Citizens appear, Currently it is time, for me to be in my prime, For there is a further appointment looming, I have to arrive sincere, for part of this appearance year, And declare each one that the whole thing is booming, Never mind austere quotas, Ive imported multitudes of voters, And told them which party let them stay, Though Ive rigged the postal vote, and defamed all of note, You never know what might ensue on the day.So to be on the safe side, I swallow all my pride, And allow my ancestors to hear my consecrated voice, And roll out the charade, put on the facade, And even make have faith in they have a choice, Next time about the crown, will be compacted underground, House of Lords and Lord Chancellor history, With the other Chancellor gone, I alone will soldier on, Yes, then there will only ever be me, Ill hold elections for you, as all dictators do, And fill positions with those that fat my palm, As for civil unrest, there is constantly house arrest, Or clandestine caging for those that mean me harm.
Two Poems: Black Poncho, and Spirits of de Copan [in English and Spanish]
English Version12) Black Poncho(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)Lost in the grottos of Peru- By the hills of Huancayo Black Cloak was given A treasure of gold?; By none other than, Demonic goblins!?in the form of blazing fruit; Hence, Black Wrap fooled The goblins of oldBy using his cloak to pull The boiling fair fruit Through the Andes to Lima, Peru!?Henceforward, he was swindled By a jeweler of dire repute. Thus, his life distorted (as so often they do); And now he lives with: Thirty-five dogs, on San Cosme Hill.
Take some time to stop and look at nature. Pick up a rock or two and think about where it might have happening out and what it might have gone all the way through to end up where you found it.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by conception poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for antique texts clandestine in caves.
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides after the Minute?What hides after the minute? It seems, no one actually knows; How many times will we wakeup, To count the log gone?The rose was dead when I arrived; The sword, was rusty and dull; The display curtain was open, And there was music in the hall.Oh lovely minute, where art thou? One, is not like the other-: Whirling in an at all orbit, As the endless world discovers.
Three Poems and Paradise Lost [One for Hell, One for Heaven one for an Inca King]
The White water of HellHell's furnace- Likened to a chimney Vomits her torrents Of flames- Into the air Through earths crust And the earth's trembles-!Agitated, she projects A thick curtain of smoke To heat the feet of those Who provoke her every wish. Like molten iron She waits for the soul(the moment) Then molds, into her enclosure Human serpents? Out of savage flesh!No storm, no struggle No eruption, no typhoon, Just a terrible phenomenon, Hell is accomplished of producing; And upon death, Back into the Abyss They melt!.
Our home was warm in the shade of the trees or when the sun was not upon it.It was built on the side of a hill, near a lake where spirits could be free.
I Saw the Universe
I can see the azure blue of the skiesOr the cerulean of the nightI can see the stars wink, the grin of the moonDuring the changes of it's monthly face**I am in awe**I see the sun on it's yearly trekAlternately initiation the life in the earthAnd then departure away to allow it to sleepUntil the next spring**I am told the Universe is "out there"Beyond those stars, moon and sun,Yet the power of what I can seeIs a fathoming clear of my comprehension**I am in awe**"Out there" no time, no seasons passNo sense of age, hatred or loss existOnly the infinity0f the Universe**What IS "out there"?What IS the Universe that has no end?What IS the power that creates all this?I want to see it too**And then I remember..
Catherine Daly reviews Antidotes for an Alibi
Amy King Antidotes for an Alibi BlazeVox Books ISBN 0-9759227-5-0 2005These poems read to me like poetry versions of flash fiction. Now, I like flash fiction very much, but I like the more fabulistic kind.
Mechanical Poetry; Part Two
What do you do when you want to write poetry? I hope your fulfil is "I start writing." Even characters a bad poem is beat than behind you for the "right words.
I never belief I would have to say GOODBYE to my best friend? But that's what I had to do today I had to let go of her eternally -There was no other way For me to face authenticity Or pretend to be okay I had no conception -Of how hard it would be To in reality let go Of this huge part of me? Not tomorrow or ever -Will my life be the same Devoid of my Grannio here Life seems to be a game - Of ability and questions?Questions that never end And have no answers That can begin to mend The huge hole exclusive of meNor come close to curative My heart and soul that Seem to be air Lost, numb and empty-Completely hollow? Like I have minion left To exceedingly admire - All the way through life with respectShe was so much more Than my Grandmother I knew that ahead of She left this earthAnd I told her so More than once or twice For the reason that she had to know Just how very elite -And truly blessed I felt to have her as my alone She was the best Devoid of a doubt -My Grannio gave me More than any person Will ever certainly see? It was an assumed -Kind of love That came with no environment And went far above The common caringAnd be in the region of aid For a grandchild - Or children of any sort She gave more of herselfTo me than any person In my life ever will No one could have done What she did for meWith so much devotion, Answer honesty And true emotion? Her allegiance was -Sincerely abiding I accomplish so much Now that I'm crying - And wishing thatI had just one more day To spend property her hand And frustrating to take away Her fears and her pain -That took over her Body and her mind Like never before? In our lives -I would have honestly Given 20 years of my life To have her only Be here tomorrow -I cannot clarify The way I feel today Or how much I pain Is contained by of me -That will never go away No be relevant how much time passes I know this ache will stay With me forever?Just as her exclusive touch Will all the time be with me And mean so very much - To me and my son?Jakob Thomas Her "BabyDoll" And I agreement To never not remember -What she would have done If she was still here For him - her only one Great-grandchild?Resource Box - © Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - love, friendship, children, inspiration, success, wisdom, family, life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www.
Looking Out the Rear Window
The funeral rite concluded With the member of the clergy shaking hands, Offering words of comfort I didn't quite understand.The undertakers came forth And summoned pallbearers' four.
In The Midst Of All
In the midst of darkness, there is light. In the midst of evil, there is virtue.
Ballade of an Inca King
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?; In Spain, they leave the active streets, For sail to Peruvian shores;The low sound of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sun A mountain of gold, or the grave Awaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea; Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded after prisons doors-?They babble about his blond ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores? They count the days that idle by, For gold they worship and will die.Envoy.
The Poets Angle [Three Poems with a review]
The Poet's Corner [Three poem/ see analysis of poetry under the poems]The Poets CondorThe condor fly's Amongst the hillsIn open skies Of San Jerrónimo, Near Huancayo?Forbidding any To near his path-Lest he dare To risk a attack, Near Huancayo!..
The Plane from Iquitos [1959-Part One]
Iquitos & the Amazon Part OneIt was December 2, l959, I was meeting on a small prop-plane goodbye Iquitos, Peru for a trip down the Amazon en route for the opening, the mouth of the mighty Amazon,--to Manaus. As we flew low one could see the waters of the Amazon, the city all the time impressed me, but more from this birds-eye view, you could see the mighty river in its squid like form, with all it tentacles [contributories: waters concerning to the river].
Shakespeares Limerick XVIII, Shall I Contrast Thee to a Summers Day?
Shakespeare's sonnets compel time and attempt to appreciate. Appreciation the abundant meanings of the lines, the crisply made references, the brilliancy of the images, and the convolution of the sound, rhythm and assembly of the verse hassle concentration and experience.
The Lull of Evening [Over Mantaro Valley] In English and Spanish
Twilight, was now beginning. As forthe sun, it was down-down over the Mantaro Valley of Peru.
As I pulled out up some of the polished gemstones in the rock store I began to think about what the sand looked like beforehand they were polished. The store had a number of rocks on demonstrate screening the beforehand and after and I realized that except you knew what you were looking for, you could certainly pass by a beneficial gemstone.
Five Poems from Home [And a view on the world vs. the poet]
Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker [Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said, Dorothy Parker lies dead, cremated to ash and poetry; thus, she died at the ripe old age of seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth, who got jammed in the rain and couldn't get out: continued to play the game, all the same, like drops of rain upon a pane.
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