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Sustain

1.
My love plays piano and his foot hovers above the pedal.
Sustain, they call it when the note floats
like a basketball player suspended in air,
or a question whose purpose is to remain unanswered.
Theres only this low keening urgency,
the sound of mourning doves,
drone and descant, murmur and coo.
I am learning to rest inside the word enough
its rough leathery consonants, its f of finitude.

2.
To bear up under
pain, or the memory of pain
repeating itself, like scales, as if we were practicing
to never do again what
of course we will do again

3.
I love you
the way language loves the tongue,
the way a sentence loves its verb,
and parentheses love whatever they enclose.
I love you the way notes love the fingers that play them,
the way the ear loves sound
as well as the silence that comes after.
I love you the way a bridge loves land,
anchoring itself to the river banks so it can arch
over waters too rough to swim.
I love you the way an apple loves the teeth that bite it,
and a worm loves the earth it turns.

4.
After divorce
we sustained heavy losses,
multiple injuries,
head wounds, trauma, shock.

But you cant sustain shock.

You have to let it go, or move on into deeper waters.

5.
Give us this day our stone-ground wholegrain toast with organic butter,
our fair trade coffee, our soy creamer, our free-range eggs,
our morning paper with its dismaying headlines,
our kissing and teasing in the kitchen.
Let it all go on, just

[...] Read more

poem by Alison Luterman
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University Of Central Florida Volleyball

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Adrienne Vittadini

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Twin State

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Using Boot Camp

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Schwinn Twenty-four

(kinky friedman, shawn siegal)
Yeah! yeah! yeah!
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Me and my fellows gonna take a hike
I climbed on in my brand new bike
Its a twenty-four inch with a groovy red seat
All of the fellows think its really neat
As I pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal
Pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal up, pedal down
Pedal all around town on my schwinn twenty-four
Schwinn twenty-four
Bam bam bam bam
Schwinn twenty-four.
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.
Late last night was a-cruisin round town,
Skateboard pulled up and I shoved you down
When all the lights turned green people on line
Skateboard giving me a real rough time.
As I pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal
Pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal up, pedal down
Pedal all around town on my schwinn twenty-four,
Schwinn twenty-four,
Bam bam bam bam
Schwinn twenty-four.
Watch me go!
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Well, I made my thing stop and they started to inspect her
Found I was missing one red reflector
They put it on with go go speed
Now I got all the tail action I need
As I pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal
Pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal up, pedal down
Pedal all around town on my schwinn twenty-four
Schwinn twenty-four
Bam bam bam bam
Schwinn twenty-four
Bought it at the store
Ride it on the shore
Two and two makes four
I love leslie gore
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Ra-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Veterinary Camps

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Fitration Bags

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Trash Bag

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Put Your Foot On the Pedal

No ember that you've struck...
Could heat up a fire burning out.
And no engine that is cool...
Should keep ready,
For a driver who ain't behind the wheel.
Or thinking that a boost,
Is not needed to get started.

You gotta give up,
Mo' steam.
And get up offa that...
Low self-esteem.

You gotta give up,
Mo' steam.
And get up offa that,
Low self-esteem.

Put your foot on the pedal,
And steer me to all your needs.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put the pedal to the metal.

Put your foot on the pedal,
And steer me to all your needs.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put the pedal to the metal.

Put that pedal to the metal,
If you wanna get with me.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put that pedal to the metal.

Put your foot on the pedal,
And steer me to all your needs.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put the pedal to the metal.

No ember that you've struck...
Could heat up a fire burning out.
And no engine that is cool...
Should keep ready,
For a driver who ain't behind the wheel.
Or thinking that a boost,
Is not needed to get started.

You gotta give up,
Mo' steam.
And get up offa that...
Low self-esteem.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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For All Pianos All Around The World

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anno piano twenty twelve

poem by Nicolas Grenier
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The Spring Oracle

OH prophetic bird so bright,
Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight!
In the fairest time of year,
Dearest bird, oh! deign to hear
What a youthful pair would pray,
Do thou call, if hope they may:
Thy cuck-oo, thy cuck-oo.
Ever more cuck-oo, cuck-oo!

Hearest thou? A loving pair
Fain would to the altar fare;
Yes! a pair in happy youth,
Full of virtue, full of truth.
Is the hour not fix'd by fate?
Say, how long must they still wait?
Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo!
Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo!

'Tis not our fault, certainly!
Only two years patient be!
But if we ourselves please here,
Will pa-pa-papas appear?
Know that thou'lt more kindness do us,
More thou'lt prophesy unto us.
One! cuck-oo! Two! cuck-oo!
Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo!

If we've calculated clearly,
We have half a dozen nearly.
If good promises we'll give,
Wilt thou say how long we'II live?
Truly, we'll confess to thee,
We'd prolong it willingly.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

Life is one continued feast--
(If we keep no score, at least).
If now we together dwell,
Will true love remain as well?
For if that should e'er decay,
Happiness would pass away.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Coo Coo Ca Choo

Coo coo ca choo baby you that's what you are
You are a hollywood star you're the high priestess by far
And you know this tune's for you we call it coo coo ca choo
And it's a very brief description of the things we could do to you

You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo coo coo ca choo
You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo now what ya gonna do

Oil me up quick miss daisy before I'm lubing up your tailpipe
Or the bedposts will be a knocking and a knocking 'til the break of light
Raised and dazed in a million and one ways
Like a Morton coffee roll I want you hot and glazed
So you're the real thing baby you're Parkay you're not butter
Gonna have to get you home and lube you up with fluff-n-nutter
Scope it scope it baby looking so fit
Playing games and laying dames you know I know you know it
Now you're quick to get the condom you know the Jimmy's gonna fit you snug
Lean you against the fire place and ride you on the bear skin rug
Chow down my Ding Dong come and sing along
Slip a grip around my tip and then you'll be my Klingon
Yeah in my sweat pants you're gonna see my erection
Ooh oh pick a de pop pop perfection
Umpla dumpla dippedee do
Cause I'd never leave the house if mommy looked like you

You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo coo coo ca choo
You were looking at me I was looking at you
Coo coo ca choo now what ya gonna do

Butter up butter cup did ya think it'd really last long
My attention span hutches when you wake up know that I'll be gone
Cocoa butter beach blonde wearing that thin thong
You know I got a thing for you it's only an inch long
Now I'm picking up your signals like a TV station
I'm looking for the channel to have immoral applications
Looking so fine Cosmo behind
Fermentation of time like Reunite wine
Well I'm bubbling up and steaming like an active volcano
I think I clogged up all your pipes better get yourself some Draino
I get annoyed cause I can't avoid
Baby sounding like a mongoloid
I gots the skills to keep ya busy all night
If you do not bite I hope you blow like dynamite
Happy thanksgiving would you like a little white meat?
I'll stuff my Butterballs and you eat

You were looking at me I was looking at you

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song performed by Bloodhound Gang
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am The Walrus

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together
See how we run like pigs from a gun, see how we fly, Im cryin
Sitting on a cornflake, Im waiting for the van to come
Corporation t-shirts, stupid bloody tuesday, man youve been a naughty boy
You let your face grow long
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo
Mister city, policemen city, pretty little policemen in a row
See how they fly like lucy in the sky, see how we run, Im cryin
Im cry, Im cryin, Im cry
Yellow mound of custard, dripping from a dead dogs eye
Grab a locker fish-wife, pornographic priestess, man youve been a
Naughty girl you let your knickers down
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, coo coo coo ca choo
Sitting in an english garden waiting for the sun
If the sun dont come you get your tan from standing in the english rain
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
And I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo
Experts sexperts, choking smokers, dont you think the joker laughs at you?
See how they spy like pigs in the sky, see how they snide, Im cryin
Semelena pilchards, climbing up the eiffel tower
Elementary penguins singing hare krishna, man you should have seen him
Kicking edgar allan poe
I am the egg man
We are the egg men
I am the walrus
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo
Coo coo ca choo, ca coo coo ca choo coo coo
A tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw, a tu-tu-tu baw

song performed by Oasis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Synergy of Love

'Were you honed from poetry? '
I asked your saddened smile.
For it seems to tell a longing tale -
One of words in oratory
That speaks in languid metaphors
From lips of mind in deep despair
And solitude from inner wars
That over time has rendered life so frail.

'Were you carved from doleful prose? '
I sought to ask your gaze,
For a pain lies deep within your eyes -
One of barren territory
Where no fair heart could ever drift
And hope to venture back content
With grateful memories in a gift -
A land of your affectional demise.

'Do I hear a mournful hum? '
I wondered of your cry,
For it sings a song of deep lament -
One of quiet soliloquy
Recited on deserted strands
To waves that have no sense of song
And only wish to fight the sands -
A chant that cites emotional descent.

Do you know your face portrays
The colours of your soul?
It tells me at a single glance
Of how you burned your furnace whole
To stay the fire in our romance.

And see the prismic hues they bore!
I cherished all I ever saw:
Mauve of mystic; browns of rustic;
Reddened tones to match your blush;
Marine of passion, spending out your being,
Leaving you for ashen embers, fleeing
The dying light in hush of night.
And how you lay there empty.

So let me help re-grow the flowers
Once erect in fiery showers!
For now I've seen what love can do
When torn asunder - oh my catastrophic blunder!

But we must realise -
Our flaming want is meant to be!
We are the ocean and the sea;

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Added by Poetry Lover
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Adiemus

Ariadiamus late ariadiamus da
ari a natus late adua
A-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te la-te-a
Ariadiamus late ariadiamus da
ari a natus late adua
A-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te la-te-a
A-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la...
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la........
ah-ya-doo-ah-eh
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la.....
a-ya-doo-ah-eh...
a-ya doo a-ye
a-ya doo a-ye
****
A-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la...
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la........
ah-ya-doo-ah-eh
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la.....
a-ya-doo-ah-eh...
a-ya doo a-ye
a-ya doo a-ye
---
a-ri-a-di-a-mus la-te
a-ri-a-di-a-mus da
a-i-a na-tus la-te a-du-a.
A-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te
a-ra-va-re tu-e va-te la-te-a.
A-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la...
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la........
ah-ya-doo-ah-eh
a-na-ma-na coo-le ra-we a-ka-la.....
a-ya-doo-ah-eh...
a-ya doo a-ye
a-ya doo a-ye
ya-ka-ma ya-ma-ya-ka-ya me-ma
a-ya-coo-ah-eh mena
ya-ka-ma ya-ma-ya-ka-ya me-ma
a-ya-coo-ah-eh mena
ya----ka--ma me--ah

[...] Read more

song performed by Enya
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Forsaking My Love

I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth

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poem by Michael Silver
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

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poem by Charles Churchill
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12

WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, 5
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigor for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; 10
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, 15
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach’d the king, and thus began:
“No more excuses or delays: I stand
In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, 20
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war. 25
The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”
To whom the king sedately thus replied: 30
“Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own: 35
My towns and treasures are at your command,
And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, 40
Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,
No prince Italian born should heir my throne: 45
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11

SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais’d her head
Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: 5
He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, 10
Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,
A trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,
Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:
His brazen buckler on the left was seen; 15
Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;
And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: 20
“Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success;
The greater part perform’d, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, 25
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,
And, in this omen, is already slain.
Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance;
That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance, 30
And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war:
The last respect the living can bestow, 35
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own blood they bought;
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend
To the sad city of Evander send, 40
Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom,
Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.”
Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.
Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d 45
The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d
With equal faith, but less auspicious care.
Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair. 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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