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Big Ideas

I've had these jeans since i was born
And now they're ripped and now they're torn
And all my friends have skateboards
I want the toys of other boys
I want a knife and a gun and things
But mom and dad will not give in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
I can't put the needle in
No I can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And now I know just what it is
It's called disease and it's got my head
It always runs where I hide
Too scared too talk, too scared to try
Too scared to know the reasons why
And all my friends say bye bye
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No I can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No I can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in

song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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Shadow Hawk episode 3

[Angela’s House] Tuesday Nov 25 9: 23 am
[Angela and her mom are conversating in living room with Sam lying on couch unconscience]
Angela: He’s been out for about four days now
Mom: Who is he?
Angela: I think his name is Sam
Mom: (Places hands on hips) You think! ?
Angela: Mom I found him in the street, he was hurt.
Mom: (outraged) In the street! Angela you don’t know this boy.
Angela: I had to bring him here he was badly wounded. Plus I’m a CN.
Mom: Angela you know your father would be upset. He’s been gone to a business trip in Tokyo for two weeks and He’ll want to sit on his new leather couch.
Angela: I returned the favor.
Mom: What favor? Did you have se……..
Angela: No, he saved my life!
Mom: What?
Angela: (begins to cry) Three men chased me down the street into an alley they were going to mug me or worse. He came to my aide, and even gave me dinner.
Mom: (Embraces Angela and starts crying) I’m glad your alright.
Angela: He saved me mom.
Mom: Well I couldn’t have chosen a better boy to stay in my house. (smiles warmly)
Angela: Thanks for understanding.
Mom: He looks so cute when he’s sleeping.
Angela: I know mom, he looks like a little teddy bear. (they both giggle)
(door bell rings)
Mom: That’s your dad, let me do the talking.
(Opens door)
Dad: Hey honey I’m home.
Mom: I’ve missed you so much. (they kiss)
Dad: So how’s my little angel doing?
Angela: Fine dad. (smiles)
Dad: Well I guess I’ll go watch tv on my new leather couch.
Mom: You know it’s been two weeks Roger mabey we should go up stairs and “talk”.
Dad: Not right now Sarah, I’m tired. (advances towards living room)
Mom: Roger let me give you a back message up stairs.
Dad: No, Sarah.
Angela: You look tired dad why don’t you take a nap.
Dad: I will once I watch a little……. Who the heck is that on my $2,000 couch! ! !
Mom: Calm down Roger.
Dad: There’s blood on my new couch! ! ! !
Angela: Let me explain.
Dad: Yes Angela explain to me why there is some random boy in my house lying on my couch which is blood stained at that!
Mom: The boy was hurt Roger she had to bring him her.
Dad: And you knew about it Sarah?
Mom: Yes.
Dad: I thought we discussed this already!
Angela: He’s hurt dad.
Dad: Hurt! You want hurt I’ll give you hurt! (grabs baseball bat)
Mom: Don’t Roger put it d…….
Dad: Stay out of this Sarah! (goes to hit Sam)
Angela: (Throws herself on Sam) If you hit him you have to hit me too!
Dad: Move Angela.
Angela: No.

[...] Read more

poem by Jesse Overton
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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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Tommy's Dead

YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.

There's something not right, boys,

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Cursed (story)

I am Bill.I live with my brother, my dad, mom and my lil sis.There's always this thing that bothers my mind..it's because i believe that my mom and sis already died.It was almost a yearago yet not that old to be forgotten.our house was burnt for unknown reason.They we're found dead on the room i was staying.Burned, yet there's still mystery upon their death.

I can barely remember that i see mere smoke and huge fire.i was just 7 yet my mind works as if i was not.After the tragic happenings the ocean made noise and i saw a huge wave comming towards our direction.Crowds of neigbors, the police, the rescuers and even i, my lil bro and dad run away.

our house was swallowed by that huge wave.After that i don't know what else happened.I hear my dad yell and my lil bro crying.I see blurry lights and hear the sirens.I was asleep! am i? i see the lights striking in my eyelids yet i can not see any image.i hear the sound of waves smashing unto rocks then i'm

shocked to reality i'm just sitting on the deck before the emergency room in the city hospital.I was wonderin' what i'm doin' there but 'twas just a couple'o seconds when i saw my lil bro and dad walked out the emergency room, smiling and waved on me.My dad shouted com'mon bill let's go home.okey, well my dad's calling me.Gotta go!

i really don't know what happened but as we go back to where our house was build it was still there standing steady and strong.I looked around i saw our neighbor's house burnt.and i said' oh, bla bla i really don't know what's happening! ' and asked dad 'dad i thought it was our house burned? '

and as i always hear from him dad answered in a huge voice 'what? are you out of your mind? '

then i heared a soft voice saying 'John, let him rest.Maybe he's hallucinating.he's from kelly's house beside the shore.we all knew it's almost impossible for him to survive that huge fire.'

my pores closed, my spines shivered..and my heart pumped fast...

i shouted' who's that'? ... MOM?

and the voice answered 'yes dear.'

my dad then said' LEt's took him to the doctor, maybe the accident affected his mind too.'

'but DAD! ! , Mom and tricia died already! '

he answered: 'That's not funny bill! if yu're thinking this is the right time to crack pranks.well ITS NOT! ! ..Go to your room! ! '

'but DAD? '!

'NO buts, go to your room.NOW! '

okey, it seems like i really am hallucinating..maybe i came over kelly's house and caused fire and cause of the pressure and i was so scared that i would be charged for the accident i run out of my consciousness..yeah..maybe that's what happened..

[...] Read more

poem by Ellirie Aviles
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I Know What Boys Like

Boys, boys
He you wanna know something?
Boys, boys
Boys like girls
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I seem them looking (looking)
I make them want me
I like to tease them
And they want to touch me
I never let them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me
I got my cat moves
That so upsets them
Zippers and buttons
Fun to frustrate them
They get so angry
Like pouty children
Denied their candy
I laugh right at them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
I think you're special
I might let you
You're so much different
I might let you
There's no one like you
I might let you
Or would you like that?
I might let you
Sucker!
Boys, b-b-boys
Boys, b-b-b-boys
G-g-g-g-got what boys want
G-g-g-got

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song performed by Vitamin C
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tear Drops And Closed Caskets The Good Die Young.

I went to a party, Mom,
I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink and drive, Mom,
So I drank sprite instead.

I felt really proud inside, Mom,
The way you said I would.
I didn't drink and drive, Mom,
Even though the others said I should.

I know I did the right thing, Mom,
I know you're always right.
Now the party is finally ending, Mom,
As everyone drives out of sight.

As I got into my car, Mom,
I knew I'd get home in one piece,
Because of the way you raised me, Mom,
So responsible and sweet.

I started to drive away, Mom,
But as I pulled onto the road,
The other car didn't see me, Mom,
And it hit me like a load.

As I lie here on the pavement, Mom,
I hear the policeman say,
The other guy is drunk, Mom,
And now I'm the one who'll pay.

I'm lying here dying, Mom,
I wish you'd get here soon.
How come this happened to me, Mom?
My life burst like a balloon.

There is blood all around me, Mom,
Most of it is mine.
I hear the paramedic say, Mom,
i'll be dead in a short time.

I just wanted to tell you, Mom,
I swear I didn't drink.
It was the others, Mom,
The others didn't think.

He didn't know where he was going, Mom,
He was probably at the same party as I.
The only difference is, Mom,
He drank, and I will die.

[...] Read more

poem by Tamara Moir
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Give The Po Man A Break

Give po man a break
Give po man a break
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a
Give po man a

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song performed by Fatboy Slim
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

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

These days
I'm so lost
In this fog
This isn’t my last
Time
Of being caught up
This isn’t my last
Time
Fighting for love
I’m so lost
In this fog
Of boys

Boys boys
There my pain
Boys boys
There my smiles
Boys boys
There my guards
Boys boys
There my fog

It’s the boys
That keeps me in this haze
It’s the boys
That causes all our pain
There here
And their there
There everywhere
There everywhere
It’s the boys
That we can blame

Why do boys
Have to hurt us
The way they do
Why do they
Have to all attack
At once
Its they army of boys
The army of toys
There our
Boy toys
Boy toys
Army boys

Boys boys
There my pain
Boys boys
There my smiles

[...] Read more

poem by Tessa Monaghan
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Faithless, The Wonder Boy

I've had these jeans since i was born
And now they're ripped and now they're torn
And all my friends have skateboards
I want the toys of other boys
I want a knife and a gun and things
But mom and dad will not give in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
I can't put the needle in
No i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And now i know just what it is
It's called disease and it's got my head
It always runs where i hide
Too scared too talk, too scared to try
Too scared to know the reasons why
And all my friends say bye bye
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in

song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Faithless Wonder Boy

Ive had these jeans since I was born
And now theyre ripped and now theyre torn
And all my friends have skateboards
I want the toys of other boys
I want a knife and a gun and things
But mom and dad will not give in
And I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
I cant put the needle in
No I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
And now I know just what it is
Its called disease and its got my head
It always runs where I hide
Too scared too talk, too scared to try
Too scared to know the reasons why
And all my friends say bye bye
And I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
No I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
And I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
No I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in

song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Death of an Innocent

I went to a party, mom, I remember what you said.
You told me not to drink, mom, so I drank soda instead.
I really felt proud inside, mom, even though the others said I should.

I know I did the right thing, mom, I know you are always right.
Now the party is finally ending, mom, as everyone is driving out of site.
As I got into my car, mom, I knew I would get home in one piece.
Because of the way you raised me, mom, so responsible and sweet.

I stared to drive away, mom, but I pulled out into the road,
The other car didn’t see me, mom, and hit me like a load.
As I lay here on the payment, mom, I hear the policeman say,
The other guy is drunk, mom, and now I’m the one who will pay.

I’m lying here dying, mom, I wish you’d get here soon.
How could this happen to me, mom? My life just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, mom, and most of it is mine.
I hear the medic say, mom, I’ll die in a short time.

I just wanted to tell you, mom, I swear I didn’t drink.
It was the others, mom. The others didn’t think.

He was probably at the same party as I.
The only difference is, he drank and I will die.

Why do people drink, mom? It can ruin your whole life.
I’m feeling sharp pains now, mom, pains just like a knife.
The guy that hit me is walking, mom, I don’t think it is fair.
I’m lying here dying, mom, and all he can do is stare.

Tell my brother not to cry, mom, tell daddy to be brave.
And when I go to haven, mom, put “daddy’s girl” on my grave.
Someone should have told him, mom, not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him, mom, I would still be alive.

My breath is getting short, mom, I’m becoming very scared.
Please don’t cry for me, mom. When I need you, you were always there.

I have one last question, mom, before I say good bye.
I didn’t drink and drive, mom, so why am I the one to die?

poem by Kayla Woods
Added by Poetry Lover
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Stacy's Mom

Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stcy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy can I come over after school?
Stacy can I come over after school?
(After school)
We can hang around by the pool
We can hang around by the pool
Did your mom get back from her buisness trip?
(Hang by the pool)
Is she there or is she trying to give me the slip?
Did your mom get back from her buisness trip?
(Business trip)
You know I'm not the little boy that I used to be
Is she there or is she trying to give me the slip?
I'm all grown up now baby cant you see
(Give me the slip)
Stacy's mom has got it going on
You know I'm not the little boy that I used to be
She's all I want and I 've waited for so long
I'm all grown up now baby cant you see
Stacy cant you see your just not the girl for me
I know it might be wrong but I'm in love with Stacy's mom
Stacy's mom has got it goin' on
She's all I want and I've waited for so long
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
Stacy, can't you see you're just not the girl for me?
Stacy's Mom has got it going on
I know I might be wrong but
I'm in love with Stacy's mom
Stacy do you remeber when I mowed your lawn
Your mom came out with just a towel on
Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?
I could tell she liked me by the way she stared
(Mowed your lawn)
And the way she said you missed a spot over there
Your mom came out with just a towel o-o-o-on
(Towel on)
And I know that you think it's just a fantsy
I could tell she liked me from the way she stared
But since your dad walked out your mom could use a guy like me
(Way she stared)
And the way she said "You missed a spot over there"
Stacy's Mom has got it going on.
(Spot over there)

[...] Read more

song performed by Fountains Of Wayne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Slam

Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Well heres another one (what!)
In the gutter one (what!)
Getting running up
Troblesome extra double double I come to feed them
The feed em then I shreed em
So what if that Im cheating.
Now everyone wanna sound (ya) grimey (yeah)
Im gonna show you how come on (all and together now!)
Yeaah, ohh yeaah!
Yeah!
Thats how we gotta be
So stop trying to beat loud as me cause you cant do that
Think about the payoffer so left with an automatic rifle
For last against the lighting last bullets first
On line
Toughest step and a rep and a run rep and a run wreck and a swine
Peace to the brothers on rikers isle
Pumping up a tremple and didnt like his
Criminal lickin buck my eye,
Oh my God Im so high
Just they say a rodney say you like a criminum, what!?
Just they say to make get
Making milliangh, children slam! slam!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Slam! duuh duuh duuh, duuh duuh duuh let the boys be boys!
Im the mean nasty grease smashing ever slow gashing (ooohh)
Sticky swift blast of the basty
Of the basty basty bast bashing (aaahh)
Then I provide I provide the you was cheat.
Beside the getto five
Mak me feel like jekly and hyde of corse
I come across with no fear
For sure!
Un-adult-erated, un-conformed
Digusted, busted you wanna touch it.
To hot! you forgot, youre not ready
Youre head could get ruptered.
Hit between the eye
I planned the plan alive
Im the plonic sonic
Uh rule with the bads guys
The villian (juu), crooks (uuu), hot midas in confide us
See the big jerk put you look inside us,
My mind, its graphic, expresstic graphic
So kill the cop because its kept all mastic
Directin it, when yall least expected it

[...] Read more

song performed by Onyx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Death of an Innocent

I went to a party mom, I remembered what you said, you told me
Not to drink mom, so I drank soda instead.
I felt really proud inside mom, the way you said I would.
I didn’t drink and drive mom even though the others said I should.

I know I did the right thing mom, I know you’re always right, now
The party is finally ending mom and everyone is driving out of sight.
As I got into my car mom, I know I’d get home in one piece because
Of the way you raised me mom, so responsible and sweet.

I started to drive away, but as I pulled onto the road and the other
Driver didn’t see me and hit me like a load, as I lay here on the
Pavement mom, I heard the policeman say the other guy is drunk
And I’m the one who’ll pay.

I’m lying here dying mom I wish you’d get here soon, how come this
Happened to me mom my life burst like a balloon, there is blood all
Around me mom, most of it’s mine, I hear the paramedics say I’ll die
In a very short time.

I just wanted to tell you mom I swear I didn’t drink, it was the others mom,
The others didn’t think, he didn’t know where he was going mom, he was
Probably at the same party as I, the difference is mom he drank and I will die.

Why do people drink mom? It can ruin your whole life, I’m feeling sharp pains
Now mom, pains just like a knife. The guy who hit me is walking mom, I don’t
Think that is fair, I’m laying here dying mom while all he can do is stare.

Tell my brother not to cry mom, tell daddy to be brave and when I go to heaven
Put Daddy’s girl on my grave. Someone should have told him mom not to drink
And drive, if only they would have only taken the time mom I would still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter mom, I’m becoming very scared please don’t cry for
Me mom because when I needed you, you were always there. I have one last
Question mom before I say goodbye, I didn’t even drink mom, so why am I the
One to die.

This is the end mom I wish I could look you in the eye to say these final words
I love you and goodbye.

Written by Tami Fields-Hilger

poem by Tami Fields
Added by Poetry Lover
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Would you ever believe

WOULD YOU EVER believe if I called a nondescript table of teakwood; as a vivacious bird soaring high in the sky,

Would you ever believe if I called a ruffled sheet of paper; as a chunk of glittering gold,

Would you ever believe if I called a grandiloquent watch embodied with diamonds; as a lump of bedraggled stone,

Would you ever believe if I called a mountain of compacted mud; as a switchboard of pugnacious electricity,

Would you ever believe if I called a resplendent rainbow in the sky; as a broomstick with incongruous bristles,

Would you ever believe if I called a rusty canister of dilapidated iron; as a mesmerizing rose growing in the garden,

Would you ever believe if I called a pink tablet of luxury soap; as a mosquito hovering acrimoniously in the cloistered room,

Would you ever believe if I called a boat rollicking merrily on the undulating waves; as a rustic jungle spider,

Would you ever believe if I called a valley profusely embedded with snow; as an unscrupulous dog on the street,

Would you ever believe if I called a pair of luscious lips; as a disdainfully fetid shoe,

Would you ever believe if I called a fluorescent rod of light; as a jagged bush of cactus growing in the sweltering desert,

Would you ever believe if I called the blazing sun; as a pudgy bar of delectable chocolate,
Would you ever believe if I called an angular sculptured bone; as acid bubbling in a swanky bottle,

Would you ever believe if I called a scintillating oyster; as an inarticulate matchstick coated with lead,

Would you ever believe if I called a cluster of bells jingling from the ceiling; as a sordid cockroach philandering beside the lavatory seat,

Would you ever believe if I called a fruit of succulent coconut; as a dead mans morbid tooth,

Would you ever believe If I called a steaming cup of filter coffee; as gaudily colored water emanating from the street fountains,

Would you ever believe if I called the majestic statue of a revered historian; as a slab of tangy peanut butter,

Would you ever believe if I called a vibrant shirt; as a protuberant pigeon discerningly pecking its beak at grains scattered on the floor,

Would you ever believe if I called a flocculent bud of cotton; as a camouflaged lizard transgressing through wild projections of grass,

Would you ever believe if I called a photograph depicting the steep gorges; as a gutter inundated with obnoxious sewage,

Would you ever believe if I called a lanky giraffe; as a convict nefariously lurking through solitary streets of the city,

Would you ever believe if I called a pair of flamboyant sunglasses; as a weird tattoo to be adhered to the chest,

Would you ever believe if I called a chicken’s egg; as logs of sooty charcoal abundantly stashed in the colossal warehouse,

Would you ever believe if I called a biscuit replete with golden honey; as a ominously slithering reptile in the jungles,

Would you ever believe if I called a bald man possessing a profoundly tonsured scalp; as a gas balloon floating in insipid air,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
Added by Poetry Lover
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

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

When I wake up in the mornin light
I pull on my jeans and I feel all right
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
Its the weekend, and I know that youre free
So pull on your jeans and come on out with me
Oh cause I need to have you near me,
I need to feel you close to me
I need to have you near me, I need to feel you close to me
You and me, well go motorbike ridin in the sun
And the wind and the rain
I got money in my pocket, I got a tiger in my tank
And Im king of the road again
Ill meet ya in the usual place
You dont need a thing except your pretty face, alright
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
Aw, here we go mama
You and me, well go motorbike ridin in the sun
And the wind and the rain
I got money in my pocket, I got a tiger in my tank
And Im king of the road again
When I wake up in the mornin light
I pull on my jeans and I feel all right
Hey I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on
I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on

song performed by Keith Urban
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thanks A Lot, Mom

Thanks a Lot, Mom

Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for loving me to no end.
Thanks for being my loving mother.
Thanks for being my thoughtful friend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for feeding me and giving me a home.
Thanks for clothing me and holding me tight.
Thanks for caring when I felt alone.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for always making me smile.
Thanks for giving me the extra push.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for living with no regrets.
Thanks for being the life of the party.
Thanks for going all in on bets.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for being my inspiration.
Thanks for helping me with my homework.
Thanks for giving me motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for treating me with respect.
Thanks for knowing I'm growing up.
Thanks for knowing what to expect.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me while I was down.
Thanks for telling me I'm a liar.
Thanks for knowing what comes around.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me my many scars.
Thanks for making me feel at home.
Thanks for breaking my aching heart.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for taking away my friends.
Thanks for taking away my family.
Thanks for not having to pretend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me out of my home.
Thanks for calling me cheap and attention-seeking.
Thanks for putting me out on my own.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for ripping away my Brett.
Thanks for saying you don't remember.
Thanks for saying I should forget.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for believing your husband over your kid.
Thanks for rewarding him for a crime.
Thanks for punishing me for what he did.

[...] Read more

poem by Rebecca Paul
Added by Poetry Lover
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