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I don't hate work, composing is not work for me, it's my pleasure; it's my life. So why should I stop? If something is pleasurable and exciting and rewarding, why should one stop?

quote by Gunther Schuller
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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~~I Hate You~

I hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.

I hate you when you don’t love me
I hate you when you don’t come home
I hate you when you hate me
I hate you when i see you kissing a girl

I’ve always hated you
You’ve broke my heart into little pieces
My life gets worse when I stay
My life gets worse when I drink
My life gets worse when you yell At Me
You’ve always think I was a piece of trash

I hate I hate you I hate you I hate I hate you I hate you I hate you
I hated you So Much!
Look up to your heart. you’ve always hurt me in public
I hated you when you drink
I hate you when I see you around with that Women of yours

It just makes me want to cry.
In the night I cry out loud for MY family, The Ones You’ve Cared And Loved So Much
Always making other decisions
Telling lies to Your family.
But Some Day You’ll Find Away To Get You And The Family Together.

poem by Sonya Wesley
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Love That I Love You

I love that you are here with me
I love that we are still friends
I love when we talk you always smile
I love that you’re alive
I love that I make you happy
I love that I can’t forget you
I love that it’s everything I wanted
I love that you’re here
I love when you smile
I love that I always smile with you
I love that we get along wherever we are
I love that I love you
I love when we laugh together
I love when I hug you
I love that our friends know,
I love you
I love that I only want you
I love that fate brought us together
I love the way you talk to me
I love that you are here in my life
I love how you choose me than them
I love your words
I love that you’re clean
I love that you make me feel special
I love that you’re mine
I love our friends
I love how you’re peaceful
I love your parents
I love how well they’ve raised you
I love seeing you smile
I love that you mean so much
I love that I love you
I love how I would kill to be with you
I love that you’re in my heart forever
I love that you are my first love but
I hate that I love you too much

I hate that I don't hate you
Lilly James

I hate that you left me
I have that I fell for you
I hate that your smile haunts
I hate that you died
I hate that I can't be angry
I hate that I'm upset
I hate that you wanted this
I hate that I wasn't enough
I hate that I couldn't make you happy
I hate that your gone

[...] Read more

poem by Katie Countryman
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Hate is Such a Strong Word

I hate my life.

I hate that we have to eat whatever my parents want

Everyday

Even though I usually don't like it

They don't care

I hate that I don't live up to the standards set by my brother

And parents

I hate that I'm the stupidest one in my family

And they tell me

I hate that I'm not pretty.

I hate that I am fat.

I hate that people try to tell me that I am pretty

And that I'm thin

I'm not

They won't get over it

I hate that I can't get over little things.

I hate that boys never like me.

None have

I think they're really sweet sometimes

But they all just like my friends.

I hate that all of my friends are pretty,

And nice,

And smart.

And it makes me feel really subpar.

Even though they have no idea how much it hurts.

[...] Read more

poem by Jennie Scheihing
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I Hate...

I hate,
hate that I can't trust
I hate,
hate that I must lie because they'd rather believe I'm fine.

I hate,
hate who I've been.
I hate,
hate to make decisions.

I hate,
hate that I can't hate those I should.
I hate,
hate my life.

I hate,
hate that I can't die.
I hate,
hate to live in fear and hate.

I hate,
hate my uncertainty.
I hate,
hate the lies people tell me.

I hate,
hate that I believe.
I hate,
hate those that wish their lives were mine.

I hate,
hate all emotion that's mine.
I hate,
hate that I need others.

I hate,
hate my own d*mn incompetence.
I hate,
hate that there's so much to hate.

poem by Dama Tristeza
Added by Poetry Lover
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Na Tian Piet's Sha'er Of The Late Sultan Abu Bakar Of Johor

In the name of God, let his word begin:
Praise be to God, let praises clear ring;
May our Lord, Jesus Christ's[8] blessings
Guide my pen through these poetizings!

This sha'er is an entirely new composition
Composed by myself, no fear of imitation.
It's Allah's name, I will keep calling out
While creating this poem to avoid confusion.

This story I'm relating at the present moment
I copy not, nor is it by other hands wrought;
Nothing whatsoever is here laid out
That hereunder is not clearly put forth.

Not that I am able to create with much ease,
To all that's to come I'm yet not accustomed;
Why, this sha'er at this time is being composed
Only to console my heart which is heavily laden.

I'm a peranakan[9], of Chinese origin,
Hardly perfect in character and mind;
I find much that I can not comprehend,
I'm not a man given to much wisdom.

Na Tian Piet[10] is what I go by name
I have in the past composed stories and poems;
Even when explained to - most stupid I remain
The more I keep talking the less I understand.

I was born in times gone by
In the country known as Bencoolen[11];
Indeed, I am more than stupid:
Ashamed am I composing this lay.

Twenty-four years have gone by
Since I moved to the island of Singapore;
My wife and children accompanied me
To Singapore, a most lovely country.

I stayed in Riau[12] for some time
Together with my wife and children;
Two full years in Riau territory,
Back to Singapore my legs carried me.

At the time when Acheh[13] was waging war
I went there with goods to trade,
I managed to sell them at exhorbitant prices:
Great indeed were the profits I made.

[...] Read more

poem by T. Wignesan
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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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I Hate You.

I hate the way you dress
I hate that you are a mess
I hate your eyes
I hate your lies.

I hate it when you talk
I hate the way you walk
I hate your smile
I hate your style.

I hate your arms
I hate your charms
I hate your face
I hate your place.

I hate your hands
I hate your plans
I hate the way you think
I hate it when you drink.

I hate when you call
I hate it all
I hate it that you are true
I hate you when I’m blue.

I hate you when you sleep
I hate you very deep
I hate the way you kiss
I hate to be like this.

I hate your touch
I hate you much
I hate myself more
I hate that’s you I adore.

I hate, I don’t hate you a bit
I hate, I will have to admit
I don’t hate you, Not even small
I don’t hate you at all.

poem by Patricia Perez
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I Dont Stop Rappin

Dont stop
Dont stop that rap
Too short
And I dont stop rappin
Just dont stop
Too short
I dont stop rappin
Dont stop that rap
Well Im sir too short
The true mc
Fresh again with the brand new beat
The big bank roller, I know whats happening
I get on the mike and I dont stop rappin
Dont stop
Dont stop that rap
Too short
I dont stop rappin
My rap dont stop, you know it cant
I get on the mic and I make big bank
Unlike some rappers that I know
Trying to get no, but that dont go
Im that rapper, sir too short
I know youve heard my name before
And if you havent, now you have
Sir too short dont stop that rap
Dont stop
I dont stop rappin
Too short
Dont stop that rap
Im so rough so tough when I talk my stuff
I dont stop rappin cuz Im too tough
Telling you rappers what its all about
Most mcs are played out
But not too short, Im the best
You know too short is so so fresh
If thats not short, your mind is snapping
The best is fresh cause I dont stop rappin
Dont stop
Dont stop rappin
Too short
I dont stop rappin
Im sir too short, the rapping man
Im a cold mc and I know I am
Im the big time rapper from east oakland
Into music and making fans
I love young ladies who love my rhymes
Cuz what they say is right on time
The only mc with fresh hits
Its sir too short, he never quits
Thats so so true, what they say

[...] Read more

song performed by Too Short
Added by Lucian Velea
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I hate that I don't hate you

I hate that you left me
I have that I fell for you
I hate that your smile haunts
I hate that you died
I hate that I can't be angry
I hate that I'm upset
I hate that you wanted this
I hate that I wasn't enough
I hate that I couldn't make you happy
I hate that your gone
I hate that I don't hate you
I hate that your laugh is gone
I hate your gentle kisses
I hate your friends for not crying
I hate that I can't stop crying
I hate that life goes on
I hate that your not actually dead
I hate your choices
I hate the drugs that you love
I hate I feel that your dead
I hate you're no longer mine
I hate the people you now call friends
I hate the men you sleep with
I hate your dad for what he's done
I hate seeing you so unhappy
I hate so many things but the one
I hate the most
I hate that I love you
I hate I would die for you
I hate I'll never get over you
I hate this new you
I hate myself for not hating you

poem by Jordyn Heal
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Quatrains Of Life

What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?

What did it bring me that I loved it, even
With joy before it and that dream of Heaven,
Boyhood's first rapture of requited bliss,
What did it give? What ever has it given?

'Let me recount the value of my days,
Call up each witness, mete out blame and praise,
Set life itself before me as it was,
And--for I love it--list to what it says.

Oh, I will judge it fairly. Each old pleasure
Shared with dead lips shall stand a separate treasure.
Each untold grief, which now seems lesser pain,
Shall here be weighed and argued of at leisure.

I will not mark mere follies. These would make
The count too large and in the telling take
More tears than I can spare from seemlier themes
To cure its laughter when my heart should ache.

Only the griefs which are essential things,
The bitter fruit which all experience brings;
Nor only of crossed pleasures, but the creed
Men learn who deal with nations and with kings.

All shall be counted fairly, griefs and joys,
Solely distinguishing 'twixt mirth and noise,
The thing which was and that which falsely seemed,
Pleasure and vanity, man's bliss and boy's.

So I shall learn the reason of my trust
In this poor life, these particles of dust
Made sentient for a little while with tears,
Till the great ``may--be'' ends for me in ``must.''

My childhood? Ah, my childhood! What of it
Stripped of all fancy, bare of all conceit?
Where is the infancy the poets sang?
Which was the true and which the counterfeit?

I see it now, alas, with eyes unsealed,
That age of innocence too well revealed.
The flowers I gathered--for I gathered flowers--
Were not more vain than I in that far field.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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I hate everything about you.

I hate those who lie
I hate you
I hate your lies.

I do not know you
I hate you

I hate everything about,
You
I hate that you say you,
Care but you don't.

I hate you.

I hate for using me
I hate everything you,
Said.

I hate your voice
I hate yor looks.

I hate you.

I hate when you're,
Mad and take it out,
On me.

I hate the way you,
Talk to me
I hate the way you,
Make me feel.

I hate you.

I hate you for lying
I hate how you say,
You love me.

I hate you for treating,
Me soo cold
I hate you for who you,
made me.

I hate you.

I hate that you fooled,
Me
I hate the way you,
Stay down low.

[...] Read more

poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

[...] Read more

poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.

Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.

Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.

1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.

Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Hate You.....finally

I hate that for so long you had me so fooled
I hate that I defended you
I hate that I tried for as long as I did
I hate that I ever made you feel good
I hate the time I spent worrying about you
I hate the life I gave up because I loved you
I hate that you let me settle for you
I hate that I didn’t speak up for myself
I hate that I let you believe we were ok
I hate living with so much anger
I hate thinking of you in quiet times
I hate knowing you never really cared
I hate that I can’t pretend that you ever loved me really
I hate that I let you make me feel guilty
I hate that I ever blamed myself
I hate that I loved you when I was young
I hate the way you lie so easily
I hate that you use me to make yourself feel better
I hate that you use me so you don’t have to be alone
I hate that you never considered me first
I hate that you use everyone until they are used up
I hate that you take your kids for granted
I hate that they will love you in spite of that
I hate that I have to watch you hurt them
I hate the way I tell them you’re a good guy
I hate that they are young enough to believe it
I hate that someday they will see you for what you are
I hate that despite all that you won’t change

I hate that I have wasted so much of my life believing in you.

When you ask why I don’t love you anymore…………..I wonder why I ever loved you at all.

poem by Laura Craig
Added by Poetry Lover
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Work To Make It Work

(r palmer)
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve it
Push it along
It's all there for you to feel it
Help your self to one that you can't deal with
Ain't no way that you could steal it
You misunderstand if you get greedy
Ah push
Work work work to make it work push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve
Don't confine your dreams to bed
You'll get scared if you get lazy
If you can't take enough to satisfy yourself
Then you'll go crazy
Wont do no good thinking
You got to do it
So it don't come easy the first time
Practice makes perfect, you know that i'll try hard
Use it or lose it
You got to put your heart and soul into it
Yeaheheh
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to move it
Push it along
Work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve
It's all there for you to feel it
Help your self to one that you can't deal with
Ain't no way that you could steal it
You misunderstand if you get greedy forget wishful thinking
You can do it
You just need a push to make a start
If you don't succeed the first time
Try and try again
Use it or lose it
You got to put your back into it
Work work work to make it work
Push it along

[...] Read more

song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hate That Is Not Mine

I hate the way we live
I hate we have to die
I hate the way you want it to be all over
And suddenly change ur mind
I hate you want to hurt yourself
I hate you always cry
I hate I see myself somewhere deep inside your eyes
I hate that I can relate to you
I hate that you cant see
All the good things in your life
I hate you cant see me
I hate when I look in the mirror
Your the person looking back
I hate that every day seems like someone will attack
I hate that I am weak
I hate that you are hear
I hate that I can't change all the things I fear
I hate that I dont hate you
instead I hate myself
for im the one who can't even remember my true self
I hate I let you into my mind
I hate you let me stop living
I hate that I can't stand up to you and understand what im forgiving
I hate I dont talk to you
I hate its not like it use to be
I hate time that makes me change to what you want to see
I hate you couldnt tell this wasn't all my hate
I take your hate into myself and understand my fate
sometimes I dont understand the hate
and still I continue to see
all the hate deep down inside of you
is now inside of me.

poem by Kendra Short
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Hate Who Hate

I hate those who hate,
I hate myself for not knowing what to hate,
I hate life,
I hate love,
I hate not knowing of my upcoming strife
I hate not know of my oncoming love,
I hate those who hate,
I hate myself
I'd stop to hate for gold of my weight,
I hate all those with wealth,
I hate those who harm,
I hate those who hurt,
I hate those who use their charm,
To put others in the dirt,
I hate living as I ache,
I hate living in earth wake,
I hate people who hate,
I being the one who must be to forsake
Those who hate, must hate me
Because of thou hate I hate thee,
The point i must make,
Leaving myself without this weight
Is that I love to hate,
And all love hate when you hate what they hate.

poem by chris Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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Payment

A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.

I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.

I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.

Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’

I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Added by Poetry Lover
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