"elma" poems - Hello Poetry

Meal is still lame like an injured camel. For lame are the camels name Amel and Elma and Emal and Lema. For all these are blind to their danger, their gamble But truly I tell but one camel is lame Now I beg ye fair maiden please tell me it's name?

0

Aug 1, 2014

Aug 1, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC

Acuriousnature

Food for the camel

Meal is still lame like an injured camel. For lame are the camels name Amel and Elma and Emal and Lema. For all these are blind to their danger, their gamble But truly I tell but one camel is lame Now I beg ye fair maiden please tell me it's name?

4

akşamlarına sövülmüş iç çekişler bağışla bana, cehennem meleğine geçen bir ömrünün ömrümün sarmaş dolaşmışlığını biz seninle bağlar bozduk içmek için sadece olmuş ve olacak isyanlar için. aah günahım güzellikten kovulmak için yanına tek başına saysız elma yediğim bir türlü kovulamadığım.

0

Aug 23, 2012

Aug 23, 2012 at 11:20 AM UTC

levent

Aşkın bağ bozumu kalbim

akşamlarına sövülmüş iç çekişler bağışla bana, cehennem meleğine geçen bir ömrünün ömrümün sarmaş dolaşmışlığını biz seninle bağlar bozduk içmek için sadece olmuş ve olacak isyanlar için. aah günahım güzellikten kovulmak için yanına tek başına saysız elma yediğim bir türlü kovulamadığım.

14

On Spring Street in SOHO I worked in a bar The Manhattan Bistro, since closed down, I hear. In its basement what remains of a well can be seen; the scene of a ****** that still haunts my dreams. The Winter solstice was, once again, drawing near, its night, cold and dreary, the longest of the year. What brought me downstairs, I cannot now tell. It was there that I saw her, the woman from the well. Her long tresses hung down; limp, lifeless and dead, and an old fashioned hair comb she wore on her head. Her muslin dress was archaic, with bustle and lace. She seemed lonely and listless, a sad look on her face. In life she’d been lovely, a pert Twenty two. Yes, Elma Sands, I’d heard all about you. As I stood in stunned silence, another appeared. A malevolent Specter of a man passed me near. He throttled the girl till, unconscious, she fell. He tossed her, still living, down the depths of the well. Then like vapors they vanished- to Heaven or Hell? Someone called from the Bar and it shattered the spell. Few heard her pleas on the night that she died. When she first was discovered it was thought suicide. Rumors spread quickly back in Old Dutch New York. Surely that girl was murdered, such was the talk. No doubt killed by a Lover who wanted no Bride. Levi Weeks was arrested. The charge- Homicide. Rumors were spread that he’d promised they’d wed, That they planned to elope- but he’d killed her instead. The Lawyers he hired were both men of renown; Hamilton and Burr were both heroes in town. The mob wanted blood; they screamed Levi’s name. The jury declined to convict, just the same. The facts of the ****** may never be known. What man followed Elma, and found her alone, In a meadow deserted on the outskirts of town? What man took her life, which was not his to take, when she bravely refused to consent to her **** In the heart of our city, her ghost finds no peace; Two centuries later and still no release. Venture down to the cellar on Spring Street if you dare; On the Solstice her ghost will appear to you there

0

Oct 18, 2014

Oct 18, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

The Woman from the Well

On Spring Street in SOHO I worked in a bar The Manhattan Bistro, since closed down, I hear. In its basement what remains of a well can be seen; the scene of a ****** that still haunts my dreams. The Winter solstice was, once again, drawing near, its night, cold and dreary, the longest of the year. What brought me downstairs, I cannot now tell. It was there that I saw her, the woman from the well. Her long tresses hung down; limp, lifeless and dead, and an old fashioned hair comb she wore on her head. Her muslin dress was archaic, with bustle and lace. She seemed lonely and listless, a sad look on her face. In life she’d been lovely, a pert Twenty two. Yes, Elma Sands, I’d heard all about you. As I stood in stunned silence, another appeared. A malevolent Specter of a man passed me near. He throttled the girl till, unconscious, she fell. He tossed her, still living, down the depths of the well. Then like vapors they vanished- to Heaven or Hell? Someone called from the Bar and it shattered the spell. Few heard her pleas on the night that she died. When she first was discovered it was thought suicide. Rumors spread quickly back in Old Dutch New York. Surely that girl was murdered, such was the talk. No doubt killed by a Lover who wanted no Bride. Levi Weeks was arrested. The charge- Homicide. Rumors were spread that he’d promised they’d wed, That they planned to elope- but he’d killed her instead. The Lawyers he hired were both men of renown; Hamilton and Burr were both heroes in town. The mob wanted blood; they screamed Levi’s name. The jury declined to convict, just the same. The facts of the ****** may never be known. What man followed Elma, and found her alone, In a meadow deserted on the outskirts of town? What man took her life, which was not his to take, when she bravely refused to consent to her **** In the heart of our city, her ghost finds no peace; Two centuries later and still no release. Venture down to the cellar on Spring Street if you dare; On the Solstice her ghost will appear to you there

41

harlemde akşamüstüyüm rengarenk ve kalabalık reggy kemiriyor morningside'ın, muazzam beyaz dişleri ve kaykaycı birkaç genç, otogaz sistemi gibi sıralı akşamüstüyüm harlemde küçük kızlar, koca kızlara oyunlar sek seks'e dönüşümüş uğramayalı 50 doların var mı ihtiyar? diye soruyor tekne kazıntısı sonra ateşin var mı? aldırıp geldim diyorum, iyiyim böyle peki sigaran? metazori tutuşuyor filtresi köfte dudakların joy'muş adı, tek çocuklu, anne bakar, herif hapiste memphis'te tanışmışlar, o zaman da torbacıymış hergele hikaye uzun ben kısayım sohbete deyip kalkıyorum koca kıçlı donna'nın merdivenlerinden filvaki hüzün, gözaltı peşimde ben Vaha akşamüstüyüm harlemde yoksul ama kalabalık düşü, düşürenin içinde...

0

Apr 5, 2019

Apr 5, 2019 at 4:09 PM UTC

Vaha

Yasak Elma

harlemde akşamüstüyüm rengarenk ve kalabalık reggy kemiriyor morningside'ın, muazzam beyaz dişleri ve kaykaycı birkaç genç, otogaz sistemi gibi sıralı akşamüstüyüm harlemde küçük kızlar, koca kızlara oyunlar sek seks'e dönüşümüş uğramayalı 50 doların var mı ihtiyar? diye soruyor tekne kazıntısı sonra ateşin var mı? aldırıp geldim diyorum, iyiyim böyle peki sigaran? metazori tutuşuyor filtresi köfte dudakların joy'muş adı, tek çocuklu, anne bakar, herif hapiste memphis'te tanışmışlar, o zaman da torbacıymış hergele hikaye uzun ben kısayım sohbete deyip kalkıyorum koca kıçlı donna'nın merdivenlerinden filvaki hüzün, gözaltı peşimde ben Vaha akşamüstüyüm harlemde yoksul ama kalabalık düşü, düşürenin içinde...

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