Quotes about unwashed, page 2
Wall And Wall And Wall Upon A Wall
This is my world
And I live here alone
Thick with walls
Walled with walls
Now I am at last
Untouched
By your unwashed hands
Now at last
I cannot see
I cannot hear
You and your impurities.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Jealous Friend
green with envy
is the jealous friend of ours
lurking in the dark
wetting herself
with tears
she has mistaken us
as lovers
her lips are still unkissed
her skin still untouched
her face unwashed and
so is her jealous mind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain is never blue
The rain blurs and beats at the window
like mercy frustrated;
it has fulfilled its magic promise,
bringing rice out of water,
corn out of earth
yet cannot reach those human beings
sheltering, unwashed by mercy,
clutching their sad poems about rain.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Blue Jeans I Remember
the blue jeans i remember
after a very cold season
in that coconut farm
tight blue jeans
smelling my swelling
legs
and dirty with saline
taste
unwashed in the corner
of my room
i always see your
warm hands
sliding
inside them
damn blue jeans
spare my sanity!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forever you, the unwashed Russia!
Forever you, the unwashed Russia!
The land of slaves, the land of lords:
And you, the blue-uniformed ushers,
And people who worship them as gods.
I hope, from your tyrannic hounds
To save me with Caucasian wall:
From their eye that sees through ground,
From their ears that hear all.
poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
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5: 20 P.m.
departure,
a rush of people
escaping
the narrow door
bursting on the
road
towards home
you are here
with no place to go
the home
has turned into a mere house
plain stairs
with closed door
unwashed window panes
the lawn a stranger
to mowers
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Changes....
alone in your private study
you hear the slamming of doors
this recently happens
and you expect them from hands
not soiled with love
unwashed by compassion
selfish hearts longing for
something that does not always return
you get used to it
and the sounds begin to faint
whispers on the other hand become louder
it is you, it will always be you
in all these quivers
from within
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crestita
went home one day to her house on the hills
to meet
the love of her heart
for three days she was there
and she was looking for him
her face
unwashed for three days too
and she comes back to the house
sleeps without eating
her eyes swollen
and she does not talk
i will be too silly enough
to ask her
why she arrives late
and leaves the clothes hanging on the clothesline wet under a heavy rain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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But For The Grace Of God
when I look and perceive
the struggling mass
of unwashed humanity...
when I look and perceive
the less fortunate
the crippled the maimed...
I think ‘there but
for the grace of God
go thee and me’
for this is an arena circus
with prisoners in a poverty cage
these maimed poor human beings...
are destitute untouchables
born without real equality chance
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bleeding Rose
red streaks run along the
edges of the white petals
like the ones that run down her arms
trickling slowly down the stem
and to the floor
like the tears she sheds every
second of the day
the red stains upon the
leaves unwashed
the red stains upon her fingers
untouched
red stained carpet and
red stained cloths
a jacket worn at all times
a black jacket covering the scars
red puddles left behind
and a Bleeding Rose
poem by Chessney Ferguson
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