"cullen" poems
Hey black child
Do you know who you are
Who you really are
Do you know you can be
What you want to be
If you try to be
What you can be
Hey black child
Do you know where you are going
Where your really going
Do you know you can learn
What you want to learn
If you try to learn
What you can learn
Hey black child
Do you know you are strong
I mean really strong
Do you know you can do
What you want to do
If you try to do
What you can do
Hey Black Child
Be what you can be
Learn what you must learn
Do what you can do
And tomorrow your nation
Will be what you want it to be
Countee Cullen
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
“See herself..?”
‘Who..?’
“Herself.. there”
‘An’ about her?’
“..Cheating on himself..”
‘Sure she.. that one..’
“Fur coat.. no knickers..”
They scuttle out daily wagging their vicious tales,
Through dullness that dampens their every afternoon,
Ignored by their own; an’ threadbare reflection,
******* each spun yarn an’ sheet out to dry,
Stained with every listless memory an’ lonely evening,
Gossip-hungry, they covet the community swill,
Chomping through the random, unopposed untruths,
‘..husband slayer, heartless siren.. tis’ a mortal sin..’
They make no bones of any acquaintance of herself,
With monstrous-eyed chronicles of salacious green,
Such falsehood is kind to the envious an’ bias ears,
Which tolerate any brazen line to a choir of lewd hymns,
They harmonise each lustful lie; the prime accuser,
Conducts a murky symphony of ***** laundry aired live,
The jury silent, mocking whispered an’ ears into the wind,
As the accused sullen-faced an’ solitary suddenly appears.
Herself stands idly ignorant to the satirical sniggers,
The trial by jealously ends, they turn two faces an’ leave,
No fur, no knickers, no time to wish away the pain,
Curtains drawn, truth quartered - the washing hung
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
When I'm around you I tend to say some weird things
Like Are you a thing they bought? Because your priceless to me
If you were the water , You'd be the ocean for me
Just like The Ocean , My Love is Endless Baby
I can't control everything I say
Oh are you a thief? Because you stole my heart away
You are so Beautiful to me
You're so sweet I'm getting cavities
Baby do you believe in love at first sight
Because I think I found Ms. Right
I hope I'm not getting too fast here my dear
You're like a puzzle piece , Because your The Missing Part of me
Can I get a picture to prove My Friends Angels exist
You're like the Sun , Because you Brighten my Day
I can't control everything I say
Do you know CPR? Because you took my Breath away.
You are so beautiful to me
Are you the angel that GOD send for me?
Baby do you believe in love at first sight
Because I think I found My Ms. Right
Bridge :
I can be your Spiderman
I can be your Edward Cullen
I'm always there to hold your hand
And never have any dull moments
You can fall off a Building,
You can fall out of a Tree,
But Baby the Best way is
To Fall in Love with me
You are so Beautiful to me ...
Ms. Right
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 3:52 AM UTC
~
*How did a dead man in Reno
come to be a field of ink
in the Martian salt flats-?
It only took a whisper
An addicted civilian
driving the metaphor machine
the last man to voluntarily fly
asleep and well hidden
writing about his life
without survival techniques
Autopsy report says
he slipped at the hand rail
blemishing his planet
in riding time's escalator
a longing to see the stars up close
and give them new names
it's the future grim repasts
of cullen shores
from a cancelled earth
That silently floating figure
was a human all along*
~
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 4:48 PM UTC
**Feel the urge
The need
To stealthily glide through the night
To 'feed'
Allow my instinct, to gracefully move me
I'm the main character in my own vampire movie
A potential threat to society
Like a psycopathic sixteen year old just released from juvie
The difference is
My charm pulls you in, attracts you
Before the predator in me violently attacks you
I'm a hunter, masculine not feminine
It's my night
I stalk prey, so I can't afford to sparkle
This isn't "Twilight"
I'm the deadliest fantastic legend
Or so they think
But what if I was real?
I'd be "Blade"
Edward Cullen is gayer than "Pink".**
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 8:24 PM UTC
You walk on tears
like they're made of kitchen floor tiles
You're not Jesus
You can't pull that **** off
You're the protagonist
of a story that makes you out to be hero
by filling the bed in my heart with onyx secondhand exhaust
(it still smells like you)
for my own good
Hoping my life is meaningless
forcing me to hate you and hate myself
for my own good
You're not Edward Cullen
You can't pull that **** off
I hope you still feel almighty and hot
when you realize how honest I was.
In the end all I see is hate
and self-loathing
and kitchen tiles stained with tear streaks
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
My favorite poets and literary artists are
Marcus Garvey
James Weldon Johnson
Phillis Wheatley
Langston Hughes
Maya Angelou
Countee Cullen
Paul Laurence Dunbar
These are mine who are yours.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
‘Twas the night of the dickfest
In Victoria’s house
Edward Cullen was sleeping
And wearing her blouse
Christina Kelly was awesome
Making bellydancing scarves
As she and Victoria worshiped the brightest star
His name was **** no he wasn’t sandy
His last name **** his first was Andy
And he was the coolest
Crazy gay man on earth
He’s just been that cool
Since the day of his birth
Which is why the two girls
Worshiped this man
And why their dickfiesta was in fact planned
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 3:36 PM UTC
You walk on tears
like they're made of kitchen floor tiles
You're not Jesus
You can't pull that **** off
You're the protagonist
of a story that makes you out to be hero
by filling the bed in my heart with onyx secondhand exhaust
(it still smells like you)
for my own good
Hoping my life is meaningless
forcing me to hate you and hate myself
for my own good
You're not Edward Cullen
You can't pull that **** off
I hope you still feel almighty and hot
when you realize how honest I was.
In the end all I see is hate
and self-loathing
and kitchen tiles stained with tear streaks
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
Robert was his name
A chap with snow skin
A version of the modern Snow White
Yes, not she but he.
He shines not like Rihanna's diamonds
Keeps roaring, but not with Katy Perry
His life was written and published
Meyer was not her lover
Neither did he had his own Vampire Diaries.
The fire sieged
Eyes are in flame
Towards the Goblet of Fire
And the victory was not his
And there he stands in his own grave.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
But I don't care if in his eyes all he sees are forrest fires and the deep sea, I just want to be burning to ashes or maybe have an anchor around my neck
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Flight
by Michael R. Burch
Eagle, raven, blackbird, crow . . .
What you are I do not know.
Where you go I do not care.
I’m unconcerned whose meal you bear.
But as you mount the sun-splashed sky,
I only wish that I could fly.
I only wish that I could fly.
Robin, hawk or whippoorwill . . .
Should men care if you hunger still?
I do not wish to see your home.
I do not wonder where you roam.
But as you scale the sky's bright stairs,
I only wish that I were there.
I only wish that I were there.
Sparrow, lark or chickadee . . .
Your markings I disdain to see.
Where you fly concerns me not.
I scarcely give your flight a thought.
But as you wheel and arc and dive,
I, too, would feel so much alive.
I, too, would feel so much alive.
I don’t remember exactly when this poem was written. I believe it was around 1974-1975, which would have made me 16 or 17 at the time. I do remember not being happy with the original version of the poem, and I revised it more than once over the years, including recently at age 61! The original poem was influenced by William Cullen Bryant’s “To a Waterfowl.” Keywords: flight, flying, bird, wheel, arc, dive, nest, scale, eagle, raven, blackbird, crow, robin, hawk, whippoorwill, sparrow, lark, chickadee
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 4:46 AM UTC
I am so in love, its not even funny any more.
Romance has replaced everything that stood before .
Books line the side of my bed, telling me sickly romantic tales.
Each one I devour and absorb with the biggest grin on my face.
He stays in my head,
Constantly.
Like an obsession I can't seem to shake.
This obsession exhausts me.
Replaces my priorities leaving him my main.
People around me stare,
They know that I am sick.
To me it's a sickness that I will bare, forever..no til eternity.
I think of him as I read these love stories,
He is my Edward Cullen, protector of my soul.
And as I read the pages of these love sick stories,
I wonder ,could I possibly endure life without his croaked smiles and laughing fits?
I always was a believer in true love,
Maybe because I read fairy-tales as I grew up.
Imagining my true love,
Arriving one day and claiming me as the one.
His face was always a blur.
An indication that you never really know who your true love is or was,
Until that day that he or she shows up,
They change your life.
Flip your world upside down,
And leave you, just like me..so sickly in love.
That it's not even funny any more.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
Dear silly Twilight fan
Edward Cullen is not real
He will not date you
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 2:39 PM UTC
1. a lady with a tattoo of a foot on her foot.
2. a guy who eat three bananas in a row.
3. an old man with a nose ring like a bull and sea horse earings.
4. a guy wearing a Metalica tank top. patriots pajama pants, flip flops and he was smoking a cigarette.
5. a guy with aviators and a flaming skull tattooed on his throat.
6. a girl with blue hair.
7. a lady trying to run for a train in heels and failing.
8. a guy wearing a hood, a hat and sunglasses. but also shorts.
9. a kid who I recognized from high school but didn't remember his name.
10. a man who started to run for the train about ten seconds in he realized it was futile and started walking again.
11. at least six girls with frozen merchandise.
12. a guy who was towing his backpack in a wheeled cart.
13. Joey cullen and his girlfriend. (they had to catch the 214 bus)
14. four guys who were reading game of thrones books
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
"Before you, Bella, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars, points of light and reason....And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn't see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything."
- Edward Cullen
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
A tribute to my favourite vampire duo of all times, Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan.
With a heart soft as the moon
With a light breath on fire
I fly soundly across the sky;
I leap from time to space.
In the weight of the morning;
At the longing time of nights
I hear murmurs in the distant;
Hoards of sirens, churning deaths.
I jump about all the dark trees;
Searching for the blood in thee
When thou may perch ‘cross the river
Damp hair glossing thy neat forehead.
When thou read alone, and just
Recite lines of dried sarcasm
Pondering in tears, all over again
Until nights drain away in pain.
When thou stand alone, and hear
My cold footsteps are sealed close
To lie about, and drink from thee
Feeling triumphant, breaking free.
I hunt, I tear every safe flesh
Thy stoical screams sound fresh;
I paint rude love, dread and sweet pains
All wild in thy wavering voice.
The stutter, the wail be gone
All that be left is death alone
Adrift; devoid of branched lives
Reeking of dust and sand and wrath.
The veins, the fleeting beat is torn
All consumed by the whirring nights;
A new vampire hath just been born
A birth of the devil, the dark skies.
I turn to thee, soaked in temper--
Those angelic eyes unborn wonder;
Thou kiss me in a mythical embrace
With a heat only I can see.
I bathe in thee, drowned in red light
Feasting on love on a summer’s night
Thy Grecian soul lain quiet and sweet,
A rose of lavished, pleased chasteness.
I am burnt in thee, drawn to the moors
Thou, drifting to me lyrical months
So as to spend times in utter youth
and feel hours with a fluent grace.
I am born to thee, to my heart
The earths, grounds that are now ours
To spend paces at wanted hours
To be a young vampire again.
I am bound to thee, to define me
That I might love ardently;
To live with thee by my side;
To turn days into a cold night.
I am true to thee, to be mine
That I cherish love and lyrics;
To be more, to have enough--
To replace all cries with love.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
a tomb
the one i love exists
in my memory.
i suddenly remember.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 11:50 PM UTC
Hey, Black Child
Do you know who you are?
Who you really are.
Do you know who you can be?
What you want to be?
If you try to be,
What you can be...
Hey, black child.
Do you know who you are?
Who you really are.
Do you know you're a star?
Do you know that you shine?
So bright in His eyes?
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:53 PM UTC
There's something in the way you smile and look at me
Wish I knew what is was
But then I'm not Edward Cullen to read your mind
I'm just Bella in love with your mysterious side
Like Hazel Grace wanting to be loved despite of her imperfections
Like Cinderella who ran away but all she wants is someone to rescue her
But I guess I'm just Sleeping Beauty who needs to be awaken by the kiss of reality
This is me
Love me for who I am
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
they say grief has 5 stages.
but which one am i at?
rewind.
dec. 24, 2014.
the last time i saw you
building little racetracks out of playdough for the younger kids.
i remember the little purple dolphin.
fast forward.
butterflies.
the little yellow monarch butterflies we used to find everywhere.
they remind me of you now.
rewind.
georgia.
making lean-to shelters in the backyard of the cabin.
we would catch tadpoles in little butterfly catching nets.
remember the big one i caught?
because i do.
cullen.
please catch butterflies up there for me, too.
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 6:35 AM UTC
maybe in another life
I will be your bella swan
I can be your ride-to-die
even though it's only dawn
maybe in another life
I will meet my edward cullen
maybe in another life I will be vampire
it will be our breaking dawn
Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 12:45 PM UTC