Quotes about flipped, page 4
Too slow to even kill myself
4 years ago
I was supposed
to be gone
to have jumped
to have fallen
down the cliff
into the wild
Mediterranean
crabs jellyfish sharks,
i was supposed
to become the meal
the dead drunkard
the nerd that flipped out,
it was graduation night
it was long
and i was tired,
why did he have to
grab me
and
pull me back
[...] Read more
poem by Bera Tremoz
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Prose Poetics-5
It's an accepted custom
That pictures of gods are
Worshipped daily
But with what respect?
To print them on
Grocery and other packs
Just to hurl them onto
Dirty roads and litter-bins?
I guess
Afterall five elements are
Gods too
So what if they get
Flipped or sunk or
Burried or burnt?
Or what if they are
Chewed by stray cows or
Preyed by stray dogs or
Prayed by the waste pickers?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Unzipped, Flipped and Plucked
Unzipped,
Flipped...
And plucked.
Sometimes,
That is what it takes,
To break down barriers.
And introducing a rawness.
Removing that which is fake...
To sweat and eliminate,
The mistake of misunderstandings!
And getting what takes place,
Face to face,
In a nakedness that is bare.
And inspires without distractions.
Addressed by the motivation,
Of undressed flesh.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Epitaph for a Darling Lady
All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.
Shiny day on shiny day
Tumble in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.
Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Somebody's game
the way
they play cards
flipping back
forward
our existence
a pack of cards
a queen,
a blackjack,
a spade,
between
the cards
a million
million years
we are tossed
up, down,
down, up
somebody's plan
anxiety to be winners
we live out
in a sea
[...] Read more
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Witless
They see themselves as prime.
Something others crave sometimes.
They see themselves as 'fine'!
And 'why' most ask?
Why do they have that in their minds?
They see themselves better than others.
In a place where neglect and disrespect takes place!
And when many come from other cities to visit...
They are heard to say out loud as they may,
'Who are these folks and why are they mentally sick?
Who do they think they are when it is obvious they have flipped,
Witless! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cous Cous Cous
one perfumed night he'd cracked
and halfway through her act
the belly-dancer's drummer
flipped and did a runner
from the Palace Crescent Restaurant Bistro and Grill
then a slightly over-the-hill
alpha-minor diner
thought he saw his chance
a bit of Eastern promise
a possible romance
misinterpreted her glance
and so far as he was able
he rattled at his table
with knife and fork and spoon
but a shadow crossed the moon
and someone sang Delilah
[...] Read more
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Beauty In The Woman
Perched, dropped, flipped
Sounds of the day
Sounds of the woman in colors
In beauty she crops
In beauty she counts
While beauty in her eye
Is blonde, scorch, gloomy
Drunkard in spots hit
Is a woman with beauty
Her face, agolden facet
Beauty in the woman
Craves no murmurs, calm she comes
Head on the valley of green
of saltless
Speechless and never smiling
Like adog
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Wind’s favorite poem
My eyes were closed in a pleasant slumber
When I heard a clap of distant thunder
Wind opened my book and flipped through the pages
It has been reading like this throughout the ages
Some writings it liked, they had a nice sound
The one in particular made it astound
The beauty of rhyming was so profound
The wind made a circle and came around
With blow so fierce that it ripped the page
And sent it flying as a wind’s prized catch
From that time on, every wind I befriend
Could recite my poem from start to end!
poem by Slava Olchevski
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Lavender
There's something about lavender that excites me
Like driving through Provence in an old 2CV
Roof rolled back, windows flipped open
Feel the sun on my face and smell fresh fragrance of pollen
Arm out and hand feeling the passing air
Trying to catch the essence of what is there
This is not a time, a moment, a second to be missed
When what you see, in mind and spirit, is bliss
So when I came across rows of bluish purple hue
I stopped, opened a bottle and drank a glass or two
And as I watched the sun slowly set in all its splendour
I toasted the one they call lavender
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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