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Philip Connett Apr 2021
Stay well beautiful childs
Of this night
Of this night forever
My fragile child of strung silver white hair
And that air echoes forever
My silver child of the endless shores
My angel child sing for me
Of dreams and angel things
Stand strong in the evening wind
Bend as though an angel in prayer
And sing for me of the endless

You know it's times like these my child
Where I could spit in the wind
That I could break the evening waves
That like a light in the dark I'm searching for a way to go on
For I've got a reason but she's a distance away
It's been years of searching
The decades echo on
And I'm still here with my long hair and gnarled skin
But it's amazing what a woman can do
So I search on for you
And I'll make her hair the silver streams
And her body the cradle of the valley
And the rising mountain sides
And her lips the sweetest kiss for you
I'll make her ***** so soft and warm
And her voice of angel's harmony
And I'll scratch on in the darkness
Black with my claws until I find her flaws
Even and smooth and her love here just for you
And if I find her flaws
I don't care it's a wide world
And her smile like the sun
Like the gates in the mountainside
And may her river flow and slake our thirst
And if I find her flaws
I'll smooth them over for you
May her crown shine as though the radiance in the sky
And I shall dance in her fires
And her eyes rejoice for we are her lovers
May her breast heave with joy for we are her ones
And if I find her flaws I'll smooth them over for you
And may her belly be deep and dire with the darkest lust for life
And love for me and you
And may her heart burst with love and stand true

As though the bend of that angel in prayer
And the song that sings on in the open air
I suppose this poem was really inspired by my dire requite for love, by my dire need for love and the ****** and Venusian allure typified in depiction by the beauty represented by my lovers - as though an effigy of Cythera's impart themselves.
Leocardo Reis Nov 2018
For a short while, I thought that she
Would stay here by my side
As she would wait for you to come,
Passing hours with a sigh

The summer we had thrown away
Was spent beside the fire
She’d hum a tune and play guitar,
Of singing, she’d never tire

I did not know her very well,
But she would like to talk
The only thing that captured her
Was when with you she walked
And sang and played out loud each night
She loved these simple things
She longed for you, she cared for you
She thought you’d see her through.

Just to be frank, I could not stand
The song Norwegian Wood
But nowadays, I cannot help
But hum it like she could

I often think of what she’d be
If you were with her then
And think of silly questions like
Then where, with who and when?

But to tell you the truth
I really ******* dislike thinking of you,
And by extension,
I really ******* dislike talking to you,
So let’s just stop.
Timothy Apr 2018
Your life and what it means to you:
that's the only poem I want to read.

Tu vida y su significado para ti:
ese es el único poema que quiero leer.

Ta vie et le sens qu'elle a pour toi:
c'est le seul poème que je veux lire.

Ditt liv og hva dat betyr for deg:
det er det eneste diktet jeg vil lese.

Via vivo kaj kion ĝi signifas al vi:
ĉi tiu estas la sola poemo,
kiun mi volas legi.
Timothy Mar 2018
I yearn for the bliss
of your honey lips
at my fingertips

Je me languis du bonheur
d'avoir tes lèvres mielleuses
au bout de mes doigts

Anhelo el éxtasis
de tener tus labios de miel
en la ***** de mis dedos

Jeg lengter etter gleden
av dine lepper av honning
ved fingertuppene mine

Mi sopiras pri la ĝuo
de viaj mielaj lipoj
ĉe miaj fingropintoj
English, French, Spanish, Norwegian, Esperanto.
Stå fram, du, som skjules i mørket.
Stå fram inn i verden.
Det kan være uhyggelig;
Det kan være urolig;
Det kan oppvekke gru innafor deg
som du ikke visste var til;
Det kan føles som om jordas lunger
puster deg inn og spytter deg ut;
Men sånt har det alltid vært.

En vismann har sagt før:
Syn uten handling er kun en drøm.
Handling uten syn fordriver tiden.
Syn med handling kan forandre verden.

Reis deg opp; ta på livet, grip tilværelse,
møt folk, snakk språk, drøm sagn,
bygg ting, slå deg ned, få barn,
les, gråt, le, rop, løp, hopp, ta feil, gå deg vill;
så blir ekte tilfredstillelse til.
Sitatet er av Joel A Barker.
Timothy Oct 2017
På vår første natt,
hodet mitt på hennes bryst,
min kjære fortalte meg,
På hva *** hadde lyst:
"Ikke helbred meg, kjærest,
hold meg."
Translation of Timothy Daly's poem "03:00, some apartment in Paris"
into Norwegian bokmål, by Alexander Daly.
Àŧùl May 2017
I once loved a girl
Or you can say
She once loved me

She showed me this room
Isn't it good
Poetry room?

She asked me to join
And she told me to write some poems
So I looked around
And I noticed there wasn't a rhyme

I sat on the site
Biding my time
Writing poems

We were together
And then she said
"I'm bored with you"

She told me she wanted to explore
And started to laugh
I told her I didn't
And crawled off to write more poems

And when I gathered
I was single
Once again in life

So I wrote a poem
Isn't it good
Poetry room!
A 'Norwegian Wood' inspired poem.
My HP Poem #1565
©Atul Kaushal
Sarah Mar 2016
Livet er et kort øyeblikk
mellom to evigheter.
Life is a brief moment
between two eternities.
Elizabeth Nuomi Apr 2015
The last weeks have been strange
some days felt like spring
while others felt like autumn
there were even days that felt like winter
Have we skipped summer?
The year so far, in Norway
Kayla Kaml May 2013
I have this theory that butterflies taste like bubblegum.

When I was a kid, my tongue was a permanent shade of bright pink.  Shoving as many pieces of BubbleYum into my mouth as I could fit was the epitome of happiness, and when I could fit an entire package at once I knew there was nothing I couldn’t achieve.

And I’m sure that right now if you cut me open my stomach would be a fluorescent pink, because
when I see your face in my mind as I’m sitting in class or
when your name is on my tongue before I fall asleep,
that’s what it tastes like.


But please don’t cut me open. My dissection would be too ****** anyway, and far too colorful to detect butterflies…
Because my blood runs red, white, and blue.
When I was younger my mom would always tell me that as I grew older my tastes would change.  Of course, she meant that eventually I would grow to like peas, but even though that still hasn’t happened, she was right.  

Back then red, white and blue tasted like
               and apple pie
                       and baseball.  

But just recently I cut my finger –
and as I brought it to my lips I tasted
               and fish and

Have you ever wondered why blood tastes like metal?  It is the
that flow through my veins,
passed down from ancestors of millennia past.  And every time I am injured it pours out in protest, those ancient warriors urging me to fight against this strange land and this strange culture.
I was born away from home, as were my parents and grandparents before me. And as I feel the shapes of foreign words in my mouth they taste like meeting an old friend. Because I’ve come to realize that my blood never ran red, white and blue.  

                                                      ­            It runs rødt, hvitt og blått.
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