Quotes about grimy, page 3
396
this will be confrontational
life-size views of grimy bathrooms -
a glimpse of a toilet,
a window,
and a shower pan,
or of a bathroom sink
In the last, he plays tricks with perspective
kind and gentle
i, stand before the fictive sink;
the mirror returning my image,
i see the blank tile wall behind me,
as if i had become invisible
your expectations
at once dislocated and defeated
how can you paint
a confrontation like this?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Scriptures
the only scriptures
i want to read,
are the life stories
of the oppressed and downtrodden.
the only prayers
i know to be real,
are their unspoken needs,
their desire to be free.
the only church
that i belong to,
their homes, their shelters,
their grimy neighborhoods.
the only image of god
that i want to see,
the humanity in their faces,
the injustices falling in their tears.
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Not All Pigs Oink
He sat in front of the TV
while eating a large plain pizza
washing each bite down with iced tea.
The sight made me laugh… Ha-ha!
reddish oil dripping onto
his already grimy t-shirt.
What a slob! (If he only knew)
To call him that would only hurt
his feelings. I couldn’t say that
to him as much as I’d like to
so I struggled through the chit chat
when he asked, what’s so funny, dude?
Funny? Umm! Oh Nothing, I lied
Please! Don’t mind me. Finish your pie.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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What The Snow Man Said
The Moon’s a snowball. See the drifts
Of white that cross the sphere.
The Moon’s a snowball, melted down
A dozen times a year.
Yet rolled again in hot July
When all my days are done
And cool to greet the weary eye
After the scorching sun.
The moon’s a piece of winter fair
Renewed the year around,
Behold it, deathless and unstained,
Above the grimy ground!
It rolls on high so brave and white
Where the clear air-rivers flow,
Proclaiming Christmas all the time
And the glory of the snow!
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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File Clerks Lament.
File clerk’s lament.
I dreamt a dream of pure delight.
Then woke up to reality
I know it was a fantasy.
It satisfied my appetite
for beauty which I rarely see.
Confined to grimy city streets.
My restless spirit was quite free
to travel where it wants to be.
My mind is capable of feats.
Which are denied to my body.
I visit worlds where none compete
and all are treated equally.
Unlike this weary world of woe
that’s all I am allowed to know.
Saturday,21 August 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Trapped
I'm trapped
In a place so tiny I feel grimy just thinking about anything that's shiny
Don't mind me
I'm alone in a zone that was dead to the world long before I was unknown
Icicles on the bone
Melancholy's jollies peeling away feelings from the shadows I'm concealing
Revealing
Next to nothing I am something to hold on to like a schizophrenic mumbling
Slumping
In a sliver of a river 'tween the genius of a saint and psychosis of a sinner
And binger
Drunk and out to catch all the facts and the acts while my breath is doing laps
I'm trapped
poem by P.R. Prosper
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Iron Will
Dark cloud
garthering from a
magnified thought
Dreams weathering into grimy sky
The world smoking out of smoking pipes
The guiter of sorrow pierced into grieving ears
Pains uniting souls
in school of pain
Now
Sorrow in favor of solace
many tongues yet to grow
Meanings mean no meaning
yet meant to mean
[...] Read more
poem by Abdullah Musa
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Spring will come busting in
As certain as death and taxes
Spring will come busting in the front door
all fresh and green somewhere else
Here in Chicago it comes dragging through
the grimy streets like a teenage thug
sullen and morose smelling like
a dumpster behind a meat market
raw and red-eyed as a wino on the skids
But what the hell! Isn't that the charm
of a metropolis built on wasteland
near a great lake? Another pewter
day like most of February
dull and without spark at all
a nightmare city in gray tones
But after Spring gasps to a close
we can look with audacious hope
for Summer!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Feet
My heart punched my mind
No more watching it then said
It all happened just when I noticed
When a train journey me carried
A man of darkness shaking his toes
Swaying his legs with dirty soles
Meant to me it a lot
A man of conceited sort
Then to myself I interogated
Stupid custom, Why ever prostrating dirty feet
Seems kicking, chucking on bad treat
Dirty folks never to be trusted
And who is not dirty?
Are humans perfect and pretty?
Suddenly sparkled on sparking feat
The temple idol, Its unshaken feet
Oily, grimy to kick the greedy and dirty..
[...] Read more
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Immaculate Mary
She reigns above the grimy thoroughfare
where Gun Hill Meets Jerome.
A school house made of yellow brick
serves as her earthly home
It was built by Italian immigrants
with plaster Brick and stone.
It comforted the Irish Micks
when they felt all alone.
A sculptor found the beauty
contained in a block of stone
and carved an inspiration
for her people far from home.
The faces at her table change
They hail from different climes
The words and accents differ
in the liturgy of time.
[...] Read more
poem by John F. McCullagh
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