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No one uses a ribbon typewriter any more, but your final draft is not the time to try to wring a few more sheets out of your inkjet cartridge.

quote by Lynn Abbey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Good For Freakin

Take with me a minute to freak!
We can stay together,
In unique-n' freakin'.

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

I love those sheets.
They're good for freakin'.
And when the count is high,
I go-oh!

I feel complete.
When freakin's over.
I roll away,
And to sleep I go-oh!

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
NO!
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ahhh...
I love those sheets.
They're good for freakin'.
And when the count is high,
I go-oh!

I feel complete.
When freakin's over.
I roll away,
And to sleep I go-oh!

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ahhh...
I love those sheets.
They're good for freakin'.
And when the count is high,
I go-oh!

And we don't have to do it under sheets.
NO!
Unless the thread count of those sheets,
Soothes the shriekin'.

I feel complete.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Moments Of Writing Poetry

Draft poems sometimes like
loose ripped off pieces of paper
to be drafted out roughly upon.

Draft poems hang around
in the strangest places waiting
to be written out one day.

Draft poems wait for a poet
to wake at the beginning of day
to be written out, in any
seized moments, sacrificed.

This is now time, shower time, eating time,
reflective time, conversation time, work time;
t.v. time, driving time, riding motorcycle time,
going to sleep time, cooking time, or any time.

Draft poems can only be written
in spared moments of seized time.

Draft poems can only be written today,
they will not wait for fair weather like hay,
which lays around waiting to be harvested.

Draft poems will not wait for a clear sunny day to dawn,
and then mature slowly, over a perfect golden summer.

Draft poems are ever now or never
if they are ever to be swiftly written.

A draft may possibly be perfected
upon any future day of favoured writing;
but a draft never written is a poem
never written, never completed, never known.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Between The Sheets

Hey, girl, ain't no mystery
At least as far as I can see
I wanna keep you here layin' next to me
Sharin' our love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
I feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...hoo...ooh...baby, baby
Makin' love between the sheets
Ooh, girl, let me hold you tight
And you know I'll make you feel alright
Oh, baby girl, just cling to me and let your mind be free
While makin' love between the sheets
Ooh, girl, I'll love you all night long
And I know you felt it comin' on
Ooh, darlin' just taste my love, ooh you taste so sweet
Sharin' our love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
I feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...ooh...baby, baby
We're makin' love between the sheets
Hey, girl, what's your fantasy
I'll take you there to that ecstasy
Ooh, girl, you blow my mind, I'll always be your freak
Let's make sweet love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
I feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...ooh...baby, baby
Makin' love between the sheets
Ooh...baby, baby
Feel your love surrounding me
Whoa...ho...ho...ho...ooh...baby, baby
Makin' love between the sheets
Enough of the singin', let's make love
In between the sheets
Oh, I like the way you receive me (Receive me, receive me)
Girl, I love the way you relieve me
I'm comin' on, comin' on strong (Comin' on strong)
{Sweet darlin'} In between the sheets
Oh, I like the way you receive me (Receive me, receive me)
Girl, I love the way you relieve me
Comin' on, comin' on strong (Comin' on strong)
{Sweet darlin'} In between

song performed by Isley Brothers
Added by Lucian Velea
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Not at a Loss Chord - after Adelaide Anne Procter – A Lost Chord

Not at a Loss Chord

Playing one day with my organ,
I was blissful – not ill at ease -
while five fingers wandered wildly
web-cams recording each wheeze.

I know the spot vibrating,
less what I was dreaming then,
but I strummed with both will and spirit
and an “Oh My God! Amen! ”

Adrenaline flowed not vainly
from heart to crimson palm,
as it coursed both veins and spirit
with little akin to calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow,
like love overcoming strife;
it seem[en]ed orgasmic echo
to tune discordant life.

It linked all perplexèd meanings
into one perfect peace,
and trembled away into silence
although I was loth to cease.

I have sought, and I seek not vainly,
that one G spot divine,
which linked my soul to the organ
so manifestly mine.

La petite morte delightful
strikes shivering molten core,
as this little verse insightful
calls for en corps encore!

It may be that Death's bright angel
will speak in that chord again,
for it’s surely in seventh Heaven
one sings “Oh My God! Amen! ”

Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
8 April 2007

ROBIN Jonathan 1947_2006 robi3_1338_proc1_0001 PXY_MXX Not at a Loss Chord_Playing one day with my organ
A Lost Chord

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Tie A Yellow Ribbon

I'm comin' home, I've done my time
Now I've got to know what is and isn't mine
If you received my letter telling you I'd soon be free
Then you'll know just what to do
If you still want me
If you still want me
Whoa, tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree
It's been three long years
Do ya still want me?
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree
I'll stay on the bus
Forget about us
Put the blame on me
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
Bus driver, please look for me
'cause I couldn't bear to see what I might see
I'm really still in prison
And my love, she holds the key
A simple yellow ribbon's what I need to set me free
I wrote and told her please
Whoa, tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
It's been three long years
Do ya still want me?
If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree
I'll stay on the bus
Forget about us
Put the blame on me
If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
Now the whole damned bus is cheerin'
And I can't believe I see
A hundred yellow ribbons round the old oak tree

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Three Sheets To The Wind

Verse 1

Isn't it about time
yes, I've played this part before
I can recall each line
I'll cry out-Don't go
and you turn and walk away
I scream out-what about our yesterdays
knowing inside
this heart is going to break

Chorus

And later on
here I'll be
lonely and blue-three sheets to the wind
Tryin' to wash you out of my head and heart
with another drink
another sad song playin' on the radio
Like Remember When and Three Sheets To The Wind
three sheets to the wind

Verse 2

So you don't have to pretend
honey, it's that same old story-heard it all before
Got all the information I need
facts are so easy to see
Even a blind man would know
it ain't you and I anymore

Chorus

And later on
here I'll be
lonely and blue-three sheets to the wind
Tryin' to wash you out of my head and heart
with another drink
another sad song playin' on the radio
Like Remember When and Three Sheets To The Wind
three sheets to the wind

Verse 3

Well it's okay
had it all figured out
just a matter of time
I'll smile-laugh out loud
go on down to Mexico
lay on the shores

[...] Read more

poem by Daniel Wittfoth
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Our Final Farewell

To say our final farewell it happend not that long ago.
Our final farewell, I remember it so clearly.
Our final farewell, I remember your smile.
Our final farewell, I remember how proud you were
that you got promoted.
Our final farewell, happened like any 'goodbye'.
Our final farewell, you seemed happy.
Our final farewell, you seemed to enjoy life.
Our final farewell, you seemed to enjoy everything,
Our final farewell, I remember the conversation.
Our final farewell, sometimes haunts me.
Our final farewell, happened so quick.
Our final farewell, I didn't know that it was going to
be our last.
Our final farewell, happened more then a year ago
Your final farewell, happened on the 15/11/05 as you
took your own life.

poem by Nikki Hamilton
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A Time To Feel Forlorn and Reconstruct What's Torn

There's a designated time in the universe for everything:

A time to limit, a time to expand.
A time to rise, time to lower and lend a hand.

A time to maintain, a time to abandon.
A time to develop, a time to rest at random.

A time to communicate, a time for silence.
A time to kiss your enemy, a time to concede wins.

A time to spite, a time to please.
A time for respite, a time to tease.

A time to process, a time to confess.
A time to do more. A time to do less.

A time to dominate. A time to captivate.
A time to plunge. A time to resurface straight.

A time to maximise. A time to minimise.
A time to diminish. A time to optimise.

A time to sacrifice. time to insist on rights.
A time to be selfish. A time to be concerned about plights.

A time to be big. A time to be small.
A time to care for a special one. A time to love all.

A time to add dimension. A time to simplify.
A time to advocate egalitarianism.
A time to exult.
A time to default.
A time to be accepting of imperfect humanism.

A time to enhance. A time to simplify.
A time to criticise. A time to dignify.

A time to produce. A time to use.
A time to relent. A time to refuse.

A time to demand. A time to give.
A time to die. a time to live.

A time to survive. A time to admit defeat.
A time to lie. A time to walk on your feet.

A time to compete. A time to not.
A time to remember. A time to concede you forgot.

[...] Read more

poem by Hercolena Oliver
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Ribbon Of Darkness

Ribbon of darkness over me
Since my true love walked out the door
Tears I never had before
Ribbon of darkness over me
Clouds a-atherin oer my head
That kill the day and hide the sun
That shroud the night when day is done
Ribbon of darkness over me
Rain is falling on the meadow
Where once my love and I did lie
Now she is gone from the meadow
My love goodbye
Ribbon of darkness over me
Where once the world was young as spring
Where flowers did bloom and birds did sing
Ribbon of darkness over me
Here in this cold room lyin
Dont want to see no one but you
Lord I wish I could be dyin
To forget you
Oh how I wish your heart could see
How mine just aches and breaks all day
Come on home and take away
This ribbon of darkness over me

song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tess's Typewriter.

That year they gave Tess
her first typewriter. She'd
not need to borrow her
brother's battered old piece
or write down her fragile
poems in her spiderlike
scrawl as her father called it.

The promise came while
she was getting her mind
together in that mental
asylum, after the mucky
love affair that went no
place and left her hanging
there, like one crucified
for all to see and most
to softly mutter and stare.

Get yourself mended girl,
Father said, and we'll buy
you your own typewriter,
so you can stab away on
the keys to your heart's
content and bring out
those poems of yours.

He never read her poems,
never read much apart
from the back page sport
or gawked at page 3 girls
with a tut tutting tongue.

That year she gazed out
of the wide barred window
of the asylum at the snow
on fields, at the seagulls
gathering and feeding behind
the faraway tractor as it
ploughed, at the grey
depressing sky, wondering
what it'd be like to not be,
wondering what the woman
with a cast in her eye, was
doing to herself in the toilets,
one night when she'd gone
in to pee unable to sleep.

The typewriter idea
and promise kind of got her
through the dark hours and

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
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Between The Sheets

CHORUS
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
VERSE 1
Looking down at your face
You know what I'm asking for
Soft and warm in my place
Is it too much to ask for more?
CHORUS
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
What I said to you
What you said to me
We can leave it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
VERSE 2
Your sweet lips close to mine
I think it's time to come inside
Now here's your coat to catch the rain, baby
Don't stop until I go insane
CHORUS
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
What I said to you
What you said to me
We can leave it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
MIDDLE 8
You don't understand what you do to me each time we kiss
I don't think another love will ever come close to this
Let me breathe the words and make you feel a certain way tonight
Everything you say or do, baby if it's wrong it's right
You don't understand what you do to me each time we kiss
I don't think another love will ever come close to this
Let me breathe the words and make you feel a certain way tonight
Everything you say or do, baby if it's wrong it's right
CHORUS X2
What was wrong with you?
What was wrong with me?
We can put it all behind
When we get between the sheets, babe
What I said to you
What you said to me
We can leave it all behind

[...] Read more

song performed by 411
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies

I

'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere
The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;
When more abundantly the spider weaves,
And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime;—
That forth I fared, on one of those still eves,
Touch'd with the dewy sadness of the time,
To think how the bright months had spent their prime,

II

So that, wherever I address'd my way,
I seem'd to track the melancholy feet
Of him that is the Father of Decay,
And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet;—
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat
To some unwasted regions of my brain,
Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat,
And bade that bounteous season bloom again,
And sprout fresh flowers in mine own domain.

III

It was a shady and sequester'd scene,
Like those famed gardens of Boccaccio,
Planted with his own laurels evergreen,
And roses that for endless summer blow;
And there were fountain springs to overflow
Their marble basins,—and cool green arcades
Of tall o'erarching sycamores, to throw
Athwart the dappled path their dancing shades,—
With timid coneys cropping the green blades.

IV

And there were crystal pools, peopled with fish,
Argent and gold; and some of Tyrian skin,
Some crimson-barr'd;—and ever at a wish
They rose obsequious till the wave grew thin
As glass upon their backs, and then dived in,
Quenching their ardent scales in watery gloom;
Whilst others with fresh hues row'd forth to win
My changeable regard,—for so we doom
Things born of thought to vanish or to bloom.

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Hood
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Im Not Sayin / Ribbon Of Darkness

Im not sayin that I love you
Im not sayin that Ill care if you love me
Im not sayin that Ill care
Im not sayin Ill be there when you want me
I cant give my heart to you
Or tell you that Ill sing your name up to the sky
I cant lay the promise down
That Ill always be around when you need me
Now I may not be alone each time you see me
Along the street or in a small cafe
But still I wont deny you or mistreat you
Baby if you let me have my way
Im not sayin Ill be sorry
For all the things that I might say that make you cry
I cant say Ill always do
The things you want me to
Im not sayin Ill be true but Ill try
Ribbon of darkness over me
Since my true love walked out the door
Tears I never had before
Ribbon of darkness over me
Clouds are gatherin oer my head
That chill the day and hide the sun
That shroud the night when day is done
Ribbon of darkness over me
Rain is falling on the meadow
Where once my love and I did lie
Now she is gone from the meadow
My love goodbye
Oh how I wish your heart could see
How mine just aches and breaks all day
Come on home and take away
This ribbon of darkness over me
Yes come on home and take away
Ribbon of darkness over me

song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Just Put A Ribbon In Your Hair

Bobby wants a 10-speed, an English racer
Jenny wants that fuzzy teddy-bear
Now your asking me
What I'd like from Santa, for Christmas this year
There's alot of things, girl you could buy for me
But they wouldn't mean as much, as you standing by that tree
Just put a ribbon in your hair, darlin'
You'll be the best gift anywhere
Christmas Mornin'
There's no whorley treasure
Id like any better, than you standin' there
Just put a ribbon in your hair
(mmmm...)
Colored boxes filled, with fancy presents
They were mighty pretty sites, it's true
But all those pretty things
They just can't compare
To the beauty in you
Girl on christmas day
The greatest gift I know
Will be having you to hold
Underneath the mistle toe
Just put a ribbon in your hair, darlin'
You'll be the best gift anywhere
Christmas Mornin'
There's no whorley treasure
Id like any better, than you standin' there
Just put a ribbon in your hair
Just put a ribbon in your hair
(oohhh baby)

song performed by Kenny Chesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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Single Red Ribbon

Once there was a ribbon
a single red ribbon
two gold rings threaded.
Upon either end.

Upon a silver tray
were rings placed
with silver scissors
beside a single red rose.
In token symbol
of love everlasting
tender young love
beauty still held at bay.

Once there were two hearts
lonely grief striken hearts.
Hanging lost separate lives
like loose hanging threads.
As rings were tied
so were their lives.
As rings were sealed
in red threaded ties.

Rings must be taken.
Placed awaited longing finger.
Symbolically joining two forsaken.
Could no longer isolated linger.

Red ribbon cut
in a free easy moment
two joined in symbol
never free when apart.
Witness joining of two
could not be apart.
Symbolically spiritually two
already entwined deeply at heart.

Once there was a ribbon
a single red ribbon.
Two could not be apart
never were they apart.
With a love that outlasts
frail human heart.
With a love that outlasts
the very beats of their synchronized hearts.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ode To the Song; Ribbon in the Sky

There is a ribbon in the sky.
That ribbon in the sky sure can fly.
The stars and moon can be seen from up above.
Don’t you know there is always God’s love.
Has there been a song written about a ribbon in the sky?
An answer to that question is yes, I can not tell a lie.
The them of the song was about a love that goes on an on.
‘Ribbon in the Sky’ is the name of a Stevie Wonder song.

This poem was inspired by the song: ‘Ribbon in the Sky’ by Stevie Wonder.

poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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My cluttered desktop

My desktop is as cluttered as my brain:
Lens cleaning wipes, two Handshake vouchers,
Visa receipts, envelope that contains
Tickets for a tragedy by Shakespeare

Outrageous fortune
And a thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to

ARTix passport containing free coupons
For music, the theater, film and dance,
HP inkjet print cartridge that I won
With an old bingo 50-50 chance

Death of a salesman
Loman’s solo tragedy
Fate was even odds

A card reminder for an eye exam;
An unopened pocket tissue package;
Three incomplete poems and rubber bands;
A senior magazine with a torn page

I don’t like the frames.
I never use the damn things.
Should I title them?

Will my desk ever be neat and tidy?
No! Unless I have me a man Friday.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Timely Rubaiyat

If outside in is spelled E.M.I.T.
and inside out spells T.I.M.E. fit
unto the day the evil thereof see
fit to a T however played one's wit.

But what to Time is 'inside' or is 'out'?
for Time's dimension both can do without,
vain signpost vane may spin now east now west,
crow heeds no fixed road stop sign roundabout.

Thus pride precedes greed's fall, Fate far and wide
Indicts Man's might, plight sets gleams' dreams aside.
Most confidence masks weakness, sorry schemes
Ensue, Time tables turns, spurns deals inside.

Vainglorious is immaturity,
gifts mirage mirror of futility
reflecting on societal concern
defining off and on in sanity.

Some comfort find vouchsafing certainty
though blind most minds before dark door they flee,
for insecurities behind bluff masks
still smack of shameless insincerity.

What hides behind Time's trap, no map may see,
few counter fate, discover guilt edged key
of "me and thee" when once behind its veil,
what will prevail, beneath what scrutiny?

Birth - berth, worth - earth, that sweet felicity
which flashed upon the page of Destiny
one little lifetime soon is swallowed up,
archive deleted from man's memory?

Time helter-skelter headlong spins, all's rush,
"I will survive! " slays others in the crush,
Merge, surge then splurge, urge on, and then strike-out,
Ephemeral applause drowned out by hush.

From alpha unto omega Time's hum
reels strange range wheels recycling all that come
first cry, last cry, lies die, then die's recast
as harmony seeks equilibrium.

Thrust's force attraction contradictions seeks
to overcome, Time's great equation's speaks
to recreate and recombine, stem cells
flux mustered, mastered, peaks, weak wanes, then reeks.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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