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Some Got a Battle On Their Maps

I use to hate to
Re-organize
My life
For someone...
Who did not know who to appreciate.

I use to hate to
Re-organize
My life
For someone...
Who did not know who to appreciate.

I use to hate to
Re-organize
My life
For someone...
Who did not know who to appreciate.

People are like that,
They do not appreciate.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Maps & Legends

Hes not to be reached, hes to be reached.
Hes not to be reached, hes to be reached.
Called the fool and the company,
On his own where hed rather be.
Where he ought to be, he sees what you cant see,
Cant you see that?
Maybe hes caught in the legend,
Maybe hes caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
Have been misunderstood.
Down the way the roads divided,
Paint me the places you have seen.
Those who know what I dont know
Refer to the yellow, red and green
Maybe hes caught in the legend,
Maybe hes caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
Have been misunderstood.
Hes not to be reached, hes to be reached. (4 times)
The map that you painted didnt seem real.

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song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Maps And Legends

He's not to be reached he's to be reached.
He's not to be reached he's to be reached.
Called the fool and the company
On his own where he'd rather be.
Where he ought to be he sees what you can't see can't you see that?
Maybe he's caught in the legend
maybe he's caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
have been misunderstood.
Down the way the road's divided
Paint me the places you have seen.
Those who know what I don't know
refer to the yellow, red and green
Maybe he's caught in the legend,
maybe he's caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
have been misunderstood.
He's not to be reached, he's to be reached. (4 times)
The map that you painted didn't seem real.
He just sings whatever he's seen

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song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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No life map

Road maps are there.
Paths can be chosen
No maps are for life.
Time reveals the path.
23.05.2009

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Scientific way of canal digging

The governments should adopt scientific way
Of canal digging with an eye to
Solve flood problem, mitigate irrigation crisis
And open up new avenue of fishery.

At first the area where flood water overflow
From the rivers should be pointed out
And nearby barren lands should be identified
Then maps of the required canals can be drawn.

Subsequently the canals should be dug up
From the last points of maps
Which will end at near the mouth of the canals
Then with the aim of joining the canals
With the rivers dynamite should be blasted off.

The government will compensate the people
Whose lands will be acquired for the project.

In this way

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poem by Asif Andalib
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Reading The Poems Of Other People

honestly i should be flattered
why you keep on
following every poem
that i have written

i know how hard it is since
there are thousands and
thousands
of these
posts,

i know what you think
that poems are maps
towards
who i am really

roads that lead to a
city
a rainbow that gives
the myth

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sick of home

Sometime I get homesick for places I have never been.
I get wanderlust so badly it makes me grind my teeth till they shatter..

During the grave shift, at the shelter,
some nights, will I do nothing but look up bus and (even better) train schedules.

(Everyone knows trains are the only romantic way to travel)

I use maps and red markers to plot escape routes.
I always have a fire escape and enough bills to leave town.

8 hours spent with maps and bus schedules spread out on the floor of a locked office... plotting the great escape.

I have been homesick for Russia: (Thanks to Dostoyevsky and Akhmatovaa)

Henry Miller made me homesick for the Paris of the 40's.

I blame two things on literature:
two fatal cracks and fissures in my personality,
cracks and fissures that often manifest in 'strange' and 'inappropriate' places.

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poem by Brevet Wilson
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Evocative Wings

My words lay asleep
in the luminous quartz
with your phosphorescent
and pliant burl of chains
as I reckon your picaresque tales
and how it overlapped
my taut and tedious
windows and persiennes
and its ruminating
choreography

Because in these nights
when the wanton wind
fails to fan
the stars' white flame
I reckon how
our immense skies
wore different shades

And the countless miles

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poem by Norman Santos
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Fortuity for a Mnemonist

Corrosive maps of calamitous sailings
Shambled with the shivering pebbles on his feet
As he vied to mould in this shaping
And molt from a smothering predicament
In grills of iron for an ill-fated mnemonist.

As he acquaints with the candid kind of hope—
A cheap analgesic, an unstained gleam of faith,
And eviscerate the forlorn kind of hope—
Tethered in a bipolar dagger of suffering;
He shall digress like an intrepid blackbird
From the debauching glacial torments
Of the menmonist's veraciousness—
Purged of idealisms, and direly maimed
By reminiscences of the fine languid rapiers
Of your comely trivialities and particulars
Shrilling like the jaunty risqué razors
Of the wintry famished slavering mouth
Of the pasquinade discreetly wrought
In the solitariness of his brooding soul

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poem by Norman Santos
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Maps And Charts

For part of your voyage, Captain
I was there at the helm with you,
So young, and the world had flowered,
I caught my breath at the view;
But you stood grim, determined
And saw what I could not see,
You spoke of the storms and tempests
That I had coming to me.

Your words took shape, exploded,
Then burst at my head and heart
Like shooting stars in the sunset,
Like embers, glowed in the dark,
I lost so much of their meaning,
Ignored so much that was said
Your thoughts flashed bright on the water
Then dimmed, went out – despaired.

You tugged at my understanding
Set course for the verities,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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