Quotes about date, page 13
The Poet As Politician
every hour the poets knock the door of my senses
if you have time my dear
please read my latest poem
i have read yours and they're good
(what does he care? he has his own cares to care for)
and they keep on knocking
and i keep on lying too with my grin as wide as the cheetah
your poems are great
just perfect for me.. oh i love this one too
how hungry can a poet be as a politician
hungry for praise
lusting for honor
wanting to have a name where there are none
except perhaps in tombstones
yes i will compromise with an epitaph
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sacred..A Love Deep Within Me
The Look Of Love
Every thorn that hurts, heals so triumphantly...
With the radiant sunrise that dawns with serenity
Every branch sings a melodious song dreamily..
And glistens a blissful joy embracing victory.
I see moments I lived with treaured moments spent.
With the spirit of faith trust and a love with no dent.
As the stars glitter through the darkened skies.
In my heart i cherish the wondrous surprise.
God scatters his blessing from the heaven above.
Lends a smile to His creation with the fragrance of love.
A happiness blooms filled with treasured moments.
A serenity with the spirit of love and contentment...
My angel girls, a reason and season they came to me
And grankids, a blessing to complete a journey joyously...
Create Date: Saturday, April 17,2010
Update Date: Sunday, April 18,2010
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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The Price You Pay
we pay a certain price for our
lies, these lies which are suppose to protect
us
from so much realities
(they trouble us and so we cope up
in order to proceed to another day
of joy and pretense)
others pay the higher price
of isolation
others have stiffer fines and penalties
that island of abandon
that river of tears
that misty mountain of oblivion
on your birthday today
no one remembers you because you have written
the wrong date
in your autobiography
on our guilt you tell the date of your birth
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Happiness... what is it?
what happiness is actually..
when somebody said.. happiness is when u get your first date..
but I said NO..
we would feel happy
if only we had date with no fight for nothing untill the end...
what happiness is actually..
when somebody said.. happiness is when u get married..
but i said NO..
we are really feel the full of happiness
if only we could keep that feel until we die with our couple...
for the third times I ask:
what happiness is actually...
having child.. somebody said..
yes of course I said..
having child is one of happiness..
but is getting to be deep of sadness..
if only the child is not us anymore...
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poem by Omy Istibsyarah
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Pushing Me Away
We been friends for 4 years
We have our laughs, jokes, fun, ect
I start liking you and I heard you like me too, but you
Pushing me away
You're scared of committed
If you think I'm Mrs. Right
Then take chances and if you don't you will never know
You just don't want to rude our friendship if this doesn't work out
Pushing me away
Tell me what's going on
Just give me chance and go out with me
You will not regret this
If you don't and you keep wondering what will happen
I been there
Pushing me away
It will hurt you in long way
So baby don't be scared and give us try
You will make me happier then ever, but
Instead you date other girls and see if you want to be with me yet
You think I'm scared of committed when is you
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poem by Christina Phan
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I have found my Valentine
Both of us by love chord bound,
End to end eternity surround(s) ,
In all births I have Him found,
Howsoever strange, it may sound.
Meeting of lips,
Love nectar sips,
All doubts clips,
In Oneness dips.
Since several births I am in His heart,
From birth to birth we never part,
In each birth new role we start,
But the truth is, we are One heart.
Waiting and yearning love waves generate,
Kisses and embraces its rhythm create,
Sense of duality in us eliminate,
Thus, we go on from date to date.
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poem by C.P. Sharma
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My companion
I don't know where I'll be,
when who ever buys my book to read.
I was just writing the date on my new
notebook, and these thoughts came to my mind.
Sometimes when I'm going over some
writing I see the date on the paper,
and it brings me memories of
how I felt at the time when I
wrote those poems,
Those notes, they have the flavor
of me. My intimate thoughts my most
saddest and happiest moments of
my existence.
My poems my notes my
stories and my hands, they are one.
One memory in all together.
The way my hands clinch my
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poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Her Date
She waved down a passing cab,
And said, Hi Frank can I grab
A quick lift home, cos I'm a little late tonight,
Oh sure, he said, and smiled,
As if she were a child,
I'll set you down outside your door, if that's alright!
That would indeed be great,
She answered, I've got a date,
And I'll have to change and also snatch a bite,
I hope he will wait for me,
I told him that I'd hurry,
Musn't keep him standing long, on our first night.
Where are you going to meet,
I probably know the street,
I won't let you down, if time is getting tight,
No, don't you worry Frank,
But you, I would like to thank,
And if he doesn't show up, I'll ring you, if I might.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Patience on Trial?
I wished we had arranged to meet elsewhere,
I think it's going to rain.
A park bench with no shelter is hardly ideal,
I won't be doing this again.
I wonder if she intends to keep our date
or have I faded from her mind.
At the time I thought she was really keen
and thought she'd be on time.
I know I was early, but that's the way I am
and I don't mind waiting a while,
but a while has stretched to an extreme;
I hope my patience isn't on trial.
The rain has increased in rate and size,
and it's absolutely pouring.
If my friends could see me sitting here
they would think me mad, sad, and boring.
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poem by Orlando Belo
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A Cry for Help
Dont keep me hidden,
in this dark room,
please show me the sun,
so that I can bloom.
I know you kept me here,
just to keep me warm,
but now it is time,
to show me the dawn.
I am ready to flower,
I need some light,
and the warmth of the sun,
that shines so bright.
I have been shut away,
all winter long,
my bulb and stem,
are now extra strong.
My date is near,
to join all the rest,
and show off my trumpet
at it's very best.
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poem by Sylvia Spencer
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