"contant" poems - Hello Poetry

I had s nightmare That I changed the It helped every generation Boys and girls I had a dream That everything was the same It didn't really change any perspective anyway I had a nightmare That we were standing right screaming Revolution resolution and restitution I had a dream that I lived in America twin condo and ciroc with a girl named Eric I had a nightmare Everyone was happy We all would fight For the world and what happened I had a dream that I was a black activist Dying for the truth and my truth only is what mattered then I had a nightmare that I spared the differences of unity and freedom and how equality isn't fair because we are equally different from where we're from I woke up Frustrated Upset Joyous Happy Contant Realized what I had Past present future And now I make decisions Because I'm only getting older And its all just controversy Trying to hurt me

0

Mar 8, 2016

Mar 8, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC

Muegen1nk

What I had

I had s nightmare That I changed the It helped every generation Boys and girls I had a dream That everything was the same It didn't really change any perspective anyway I had a nightmare That we were standing right screaming Revolution resolution and restitution I had a dream that I lived in America twin condo and ciroc with a girl named Eric I had a nightmare Everyone was happy We all would fight For the world and what happened I had a dream that I was a black activist Dying for the truth and my truth only is what mattered then I had a nightmare that I spared the differences of unity and freedom and how equality isn't fair because we are equally different from where we're from I woke up Frustrated Upset Joyous Happy Contant Realized what I had Past present future And now I make decisions Because I'm only getting older And its all just controversy Trying to hurt me

29

I wanted you to know I did hear you and for the second thing this is the second time in writing this because it got deleted. I'm always here if you need me, I may have not shown it but all you got to do it pick up the phone and call it. I'm a bit taller if you remember, but you would be the only one who would remember the past me, for only you could see. The true me, although I may seem a different person to you. I'm still the old me and you thought I broke free from the nonsense, but I really just stepped into more contant ******** but If I could take a pick I would take a leap forward to future, past the high school phase and all these pointless days, in constant distress, dazed in confusion, but I didn't come to a conclusion I know this is out of the blue but I still do love you. Don't be afraid to come to me because I'll be here, my first peom I wrote for you was ten times better. To add to it, would you like to be my friend again?

0

Feb 5, 2015

Feb 5, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC

im-a-friend

I heard you

I wanted you to know I did hear you and for the second thing this is the second time in writing this because it got deleted. I'm always here if you need me, I may have not shown it but all you got to do it pick up the phone and call it. I'm a bit taller if you remember, but you would be the only one who would remember the past me, for only you could see. The true me, although I may seem a different person to you. I'm still the old me and you thought I broke free from the nonsense, but I really just stepped into more contant ******** but If I could take a pick I would take a leap forward to future, past the high school phase and all these pointless days, in constant distress, dazed in confusion, but I didn't come to a conclusion I know this is out of the blue but I still do love you. Don't be afraid to come to me because I'll be here, my first peom I wrote for you was ten times better. To add to it, would you like to be my friend again?

1

I laid on my bed and watched the storms last night Seeing the beautiful lightning such a wonderful sight I didn't even mind being there alone I guess the loneliness I've out grown The lightning struck so much my room was contant noon And the thunder just kept rolling like one melodious tone I lay across my bed With the window at my head I love the fragrant smell When the storms give it hell I watched it storm for hours Wishing I could draw upon it's powers Just how awesome would that be To have people cower before me I dreamed all night long of storms and thunder It tore my dreams asunder But in the morning light they where gone And now I can't wait for them again to come along

0

Feb 19, 2016

Feb 19, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC

Pauline_Morris

Storms at Night

I laid on my bed and watched the storms last night Seeing the beautiful lightning such a wonderful sight I didn't even mind being there alone I guess the loneliness I've out grown The lightning struck so much my room was contant noon And the thunder just kept rolling like one melodious tone I lay across my bed With the window at my head I love the fragrant smell When the storms give it hell I watched it storm for hours Wishing I could draw upon it's powers Just how awesome would that be To have people cower before me I dreamed all night long of storms and thunder It tore my dreams asunder But in the morning light they where gone And now I can't wait for them again to come along

18

I laid on my bed and watched the storms last night Seeing the beautiful lightning such a wonderful sight I didn't even mind being there alone I guess the loneliness I've out grown The lightning struck so much my room was contant noon And the thunder just kept rolling like one melodious tone I lay across my bed With the window at my head I love the fragrant smell When the storms give it hell I watched it storm for hours Wishing I could draw upon it's powers Just how awesome would that be To have people cower before me I dreamed all night long of storms and thunder It tore my dreams asunder But in the morning light they where gone And now I can't wait for them again to come along

0

May 5, 2016

May 5, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC

Pauline_Morris

Storms at Night

I laid on my bed and watched the storms last night Seeing the beautiful lightning such a wonderful sight I didn't even mind being there alone I guess the loneliness I've out grown The lightning struck so much my room was contant noon And the thunder just kept rolling like one melodious tone I lay across my bed With the window at my head I love the fragrant smell When the storms give it hell I watched it storm for hours Wishing I could draw upon it's powers Just how awesome would that be To have people cower before me I dreamed all night long of storms and thunder It tore my dreams asunder But in the morning light they where gone And now I can't wait for them again to come along

18

So there is this little jasmine stolen by the wind Away it soars with every gush of blue And shawls tease their women red As foliage wingless flees, flees— Litter and puppies down for a race I have not been here before Within these swaying trees and woollen grounds Yet I have— Something smiles but I cannot fathom where My paw prints etched upon every street I am a stranger to this town Its soft folks and gentle turns Then the jasmine giggles over winking waters I reckon these smug faced clouds kiss more than they tell But I cannot assure They have cooked up a charming brew And I see, just in time, them pearls and their shimmering armours Tripping over, And running over —how very charming, indeed embracing us with their lively touch They laugh all around And scare our dusty shadows away I have wandered around the notes of this song —Wandered restless Yet only now do I slumber Only now do I hear— the flirty gusts with their vivacious fingers I am a fox a squirrel, a wolf, an orange cat a jasmine Stolen by the wind Plucked from a hollow branch, deprived of my clawing bed I tread through the beaming verses of this obsolete ballad— Tentative touches of those tipsy tulips I’ve heard the tales of their euphoria before Much I had learned back in my leafless den But the grasses are golden here and not at all deceptive They yield lovingly around me And how could the sparrows not chatter? in my felicity Wonder what’s making me cry A pack of wolves romps in my chest the full moon of my heart weeps, weeps, weeps It is beautiful here shops only whisper and vehicles are patient I’ve lurked at the edges of this poem Yet only now do I fall It is beautiful here I am an owl, a rabbit, a dolphin, an orange cat a jasmine stolen by the peachy yonder I flutter my petals over the freshly bathed meadows In this vacant ember of my self Moths lie contant, and the trapped flame shivers, shivers, shivers — I cannot fathom where, but it is beautiful here —

0

Apr 7, 2021

Apr 7, 2021 at 5:14 AM UTC

Ayesha

An orange cat

So there is this little jasmine stolen by the wind Away it soars with every gush of blue And shawls tease their women red As foliage wingless flees, flees— Litter and puppies down for a race I have not been here before Within these swaying trees and woollen grounds Yet I have— Something smiles but I cannot fathom where My paw prints etched upon every street I am a stranger to this town Its soft folks and gentle turns Then the jasmine giggles over winking waters I reckon these smug faced clouds kiss more than they tell But I cannot assure They have cooked up a charming brew And I see, just in time, them pearls and their shimmering armours Tripping over, And running over —how very charming, indeed embracing us with their lively touch They laugh all around And scare our dusty shadows away I have wandered around the notes of this song —Wandered restless Yet only now do I slumber Only now do I hear— the flirty gusts with their vivacious fingers I am a fox a squirrel, a wolf, an orange cat a jasmine Stolen by the wind Plucked from a hollow branch, deprived of my clawing bed I tread through the beaming verses of this obsolete ballad— Tentative touches of those tipsy tulips I’ve heard the tales of their euphoria before Much I had learned back in my leafless den But the grasses are golden here and not at all deceptive They yield lovingly around me And how could the sparrows not chatter? in my felicity Wonder what’s making me cry A pack of wolves romps in my chest the full moon of my heart weeps, weeps, weeps It is beautiful here shops only whisper and vehicles are patient I’ve lurked at the edges of this poem Yet only now do I fall It is beautiful here I am an owl, a rabbit, a dolphin, an orange cat a jasmine stolen by the peachy yonder I flutter my petals over the freshly bathed meadows In this vacant ember of my self Moths lie contant, and the trapped flame shivers, shivers, shivers — I cannot fathom where, but it is beautiful here —

80

Un renard plein d'esprit, d'adresse, de prudence, À la cour d'un lion servait depuis longtemps. Les succès les plus éclatants Avaient prouvé son zèle et son intelligence. Pour peu qu'on l'employât, toute affaire allait bien. On le louait beaucoup, mais sans lui donner rien ; Et l'habile renard était dans l'indigence. Lassé de servir des ingrats, De réussir toujours sans en être plus gras, Il s'enfuit de la cour ; dans un bois solitaire Il s'en va trouver son grand-père, Vieux renard retiré, qui jadis fut vizir. Là, contant ses exploits, et puis les injustices, Les dégoûts qu'il eut à souffrir, Il demande pourquoi de si nombreux services N'ont jamais pu rien obtenir. Le bon homme renard, avec sa voix cassée, Lui dit : mon cher enfant, la semaine passée, Un blaireau mon cousin est mort dans ce terrier : C'est moi qui suis son héritier, J'ai conservé sa peau : mets-la dessus la tienne, Et retourne à la cour. Le renard avec peine Se soumit au conseil ; affublé de la peau De feu son cousin le blaireau, Il va se regarder dans l'eau d'une fontaine, Se trouve l'air d'un sot, tel qu'était le cousin. Tout honteux, de la cour il reprend le chemin. Mais, quelques mois après, dans un riche équipage, Entouré de valets, d'esclaves, de flatteurs, Comblé de dons et de faveurs, Il vient de sa fortune au vieillard faire hommage : Il était grand vizir. Je te l'avais bien dit, S'écrie alors le vieux grand-père : Mon ami, chez les grands quiconque voudra plaire Doit d'abord cacher son esprit.

0

480

Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian

Le renard déguisé

Un renard plein d'esprit, d'adresse, de prudence, À la cour d'un lion servait depuis longtemps. Les succès les plus éclatants Avaient prouvé son zèle et son intelligence. Pour peu qu'on l'employât, toute affaire allait bien. On le louait beaucoup, mais sans lui donner rien ; Et l'habile renard était dans l'indigence. Lassé de servir des ingrats, De réussir toujours sans en être plus gras, Il s'enfuit de la cour ; dans un bois solitaire Il s'en va trouver son grand-père, Vieux renard retiré, qui jadis fut vizir. Là, contant ses exploits, et puis les injustices, Les dégoûts qu'il eut à souffrir, Il demande pourquoi de si nombreux services N'ont jamais pu rien obtenir. Le bon homme renard, avec sa voix cassée, Lui dit : mon cher enfant, la semaine passée, Un blaireau mon cousin est mort dans ce terrier : C'est moi qui suis son héritier, J'ai conservé sa peau : mets-la dessus la tienne, Et retourne à la cour. Le renard avec peine Se soumit au conseil ; affublé de la peau De feu son cousin le blaireau, Il va se regarder dans l'eau d'une fontaine, Se trouve l'air d'un sot, tel qu'était le cousin. Tout honteux, de la cour il reprend le chemin. Mais, quelques mois après, dans un riche équipage, Entouré de valets, d'esclaves, de flatteurs, Comblé de dons et de faveurs, Il vient de sa fortune au vieillard faire hommage : Il était grand vizir. Je te l'avais bien dit, S'écrie alors le vieux grand-père : Mon ami, chez les grands quiconque voudra plaire Doit d'abord cacher son esprit.

35

I am definitely in love with a stranger. He's physically there, yet, not. You see his face, but his eyes seem lost. You feel the connection, but it's always on loose ends. It's like a game of tug of war, Of contant pulling and tugging, but with no exact winner. And when someone does win, the other person falls. The other person always does.

0

Aug 1, 2015

Aug 1, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC

almazingg

That Stranger

I am definitely in love with a stranger. He's physically there, yet, not. You see his face, but his eyes seem lost. You feel the connection, but it's always on loose ends. It's like a game of tug of war, Of contant pulling and tugging, but with no exact winner. And when someone does win, the other person falls. The other person always does.

10