Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"passer" poems
The only proper way to be a conversationalist is to convince yourself that you’re boring. If you can strip back the hard shell of the ego, and look down on yourself from the eyes of an apathetic God, you will likely (and hopefully) see just how boring you really are. It isn’t a sin to be boring, in fact there are many advantages to honest self-depreciation. The main advantage, is the way you approach a conversation. “Interesting” people find it difficult to silence the affected score-keeper that dominates their internal dialogue and ruins any chance of an honest and engaged conversation. It is the voice that reminds you to show interest with your body language, and keep a dumb happy gaze laser pointed into their eyes. This dialogue is obsessed with authenticity and genuine conversation, and therefore a natural sociopath. Luckily, you are the stunning definition of boredom, an extracted dictionary cut-out of un-interesting, and nobody could possibly give a rats-ass what you have to think—least of all the Voice that controls the inner-dialogue. That Voice has packed it up to find a more interesting vessel…maybe the person standing across from you in conversation. 
 Because you are so boring, and they are the Oxford personification of intellect and fascination, you should pay careful attention to what they say—no time to worry about how they’re perceiving your reaction to whatever it is they’re saying. You are too busy to notice what sort of body language you may or may not be using to validate their half of the conversation. Instead, your time is spent carefully hanging on their every word, digesting it and projecting the whole bit into a colourful scene in your imagination. Instead, you’re too lost in the excitement of their infinitely more interesting life and impossible wealth of knowledge offered to you with each word that they speak. Instead, you are actually listening to the words that come out of their mouth and not the ones that speak to you from the inside of your own mind. This is what it means to be in conversation. This was the point of our social nature. And in a world of needy social-media junkies grabbing at the cuffs of potential ‘followers’ and ‘likes’ and trendy passer-by’s, the last thing anyone needs is the high-pitched whine of another “interesting” millennial. Lucky for you, you boring sack of yawning sloths, that you aren’t interesting too.
0
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
The Optimists Guide to Conversationalism:
The only proper way to be a conversationalist is to convince yourself that you’re boring. If you can strip back the hard shell of the ego, and look down on yourself from the eyes of an apathetic God, you will likely (and hopefully) see just how boring you really are. It isn’t a sin to be boring, in fact there are many advantages to honest self-depreciation. The main advantage, is the way you approach a conversation. “Interesting” people find it difficult to silence the affected score-keeper that dominates their internal dialogue and ruins any chance of an honest and engaged conversation. It is the voice that reminds you to show interest with your body language, and keep a dumb happy gaze laser pointed into their eyes. This dialogue is obsessed with authenticity and genuine conversation, and therefore a natural sociopath. Luckily, you are the stunning definition of boredom, an extracted dictionary cut-out of un-interesting, and nobody could possibly give a rats-ass what you have to think—least of all the Voice that controls the inner-dialogue. That Voice has packed it up to find a more interesting vessel…maybe the person standing across from you in conversation. 
 Because you are so boring, and they are the Oxford personification of intellect and fascination, you should pay careful attention to what they say—no time to worry about how they’re perceiving your reaction to whatever it is they’re saying. You are too busy to notice what sort of body language you may or may not be using to validate their half of the conversation. Instead, your time is spent carefully hanging on their every word, digesting it and projecting the whole bit into a colourful scene in your imagination. Instead, you’re too lost in the excitement of their infinitely more interesting life and impossible wealth of knowledge offered to you with each word that they speak. Instead, you are actually listening to the words that come out of their mouth and not the ones that speak to you from the inside of your own mind. This is what it means to be in conversation. This was the point of our social nature. And in a world of needy social-media junkies grabbing at the cuffs of potential ‘followers’ and ‘likes’ and trendy passer-by’s, the last thing anyone needs is the high-pitched whine of another “interesting” millennial. Lucky for you, you boring sack of yawning sloths, that you aren’t interesting too.
Continue reading...
6
Birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance black, blue, brown their cute colours short, long, slim, heavy, lightweight wings and flight memorable all in hurry to have fate chirp in low high sound, fresh mood they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the start each one looking for some good bit sip enough to quench thirst no one waiting, for its turn a cute gay bird, find it first while the lyrics touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their tweet, song making a norm; fresh my mood melodious their sweet song ripe fruit there serve passer-by there were trees to grant a shade there was rule 'No Restriction' beauty of leaves not yet fade pan was waiting to serve them one sharp sip hurry to fly child fell down while knocked at rock help! Help! Shoutinnocent cry sound dangerous, **** of earth crackling, falling, housing, wall help, no rescue love or hate site was changed in front of all no charm, fame, concert at all there was no work, club or shop speech for help was useless try any search team, rescue flop winking eyes now teary one no-one could found there a bun there no signs of living one no care there, no deal, no done birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance chirp, chirp sad song low high sound they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the star each one looking for some good bit sip enough, quench the thirst no one waiting, for its turn cute bird could not find it first while the lyrics, touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their sad song making a norm, my sad mood melodious, fair sad song no fruit there for passer-by no trees there to grant a shade they were buried, there, somewhere no green leaves at risk of fade all the owners slept and pressed sound dangerous lifeless rock ruined everywhere tragic song mud, stone, sand, all-cause of shock no help, care there, love or hate there was silence as no play no pan waiting there at all birds could find a broken tray you reveal it then I know my pangs are more than a sea there is link between the two soul and body, You and me
0
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
BY THE SUDDEN CRASHED HOUSES
Birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance black, blue, brown their cute colours short, long, slim, heavy, lightweight wings and flight memorable all in hurry to have fate chirp in low high sound, fresh mood they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the start each one looking for some good bit sip enough to quench thirst no one waiting, for its turn a cute gay bird, find it first while the lyrics touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their tweet, song making a norm; fresh my mood melodious their sweet song ripe fruit there serve passer-by there were trees to grant a shade there was rule 'No Restriction' beauty of leaves not yet fade pan was waiting to serve them one sharp sip hurry to fly child fell down while knocked at rock help! Help! Shoutinnocent cry sound dangerous, **** of earth crackling, falling, housing, wall help, no rescue love or hate site was changed in front of all no charm, fame, concert at all there was no work, club or shop speech for help was useless try any search team, rescue flop winking eyes now teary one no-one could found there a bun there no signs of living one no care there, no deal, no done birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance chirp, chirp sad song low high sound they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the star each one looking for some good bit sip enough, quench the thirst no one waiting, for its turn cute bird could not find it first while the lyrics, touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their sad song making a norm, my sad mood melodious, fair sad song no fruit there for passer-by no trees there to grant a shade they were buried, there, somewhere no green leaves at risk of fade all the owners slept and pressed sound dangerous lifeless rock ruined everywhere tragic song mud, stone, sand, all-cause of shock no help, care there, love or hate there was silence as no play no pan waiting there at all birds could find a broken tray you reveal it then I know my pangs are more than a sea there is link between the two soul and body, You and me
Continue reading...
72
Among orange-tile rooftops and chimney pots the fen fog slips, gray as rats, while on spotted branch of the sycamore two black rooks hunch and darkly glare, watching for night, with absinthe eye cocked on the lone, late, passer-by.
0
5.7k
Prospect
It is funny to see banners wishing Happiness displayed with cinematic glamour, the pictures and hordings of Banner heroes. The one at Tannery Road junction was peculiar to mention. Here it was common The captions "Happy" used to summon names of sundry festivals-Local  and national, even internstional. What's uncommon was the bold prints of a hero's name ARUMALAI outshining The caption and his larger than life picture establishing the photographer's digital brushing skills. A passer by wondered who'd be this Arumalai, Is he so great as to be advertised in polivynil? His glorious deeds may be what they want you to heed Still never ever seen or heard of his manners Anywhere than in these motley banners Just as a function at the Tannery road junction Each one passed by this colossal glance attracted provoking  protracted ruminance what do this expensive banners really mean? In another occasion the  glaring glorifying picture of ARUMALAI followed the tag Corporator, Below the man posing a DICTATOR. That was a period to a period of mystery! Banners changed with seasons with greetings on religious occasions Festivals of importance Birthdays of men even with crowded profiles of hailers Whose unrully manners Too clogging up the banners Like a wanted list of jailors. One day a strange banner hooked by the Tannery cross over Spooked and shocked every passer-by There the usual banner cut out the larger than life image blings-out Arumalai the BBMB corporator Posing as dictator! There was no wish of any kind. It was a notice startling any mind The sad demise of ARUMALAI The BBMB corporator Still possed as dectator By his living promoters. "He was sick and the local dispensary advised a minor operation. He was administered the necessary treatment. Was referred to a super-speciality centre and was declared dead. His sad demise was advertised, he was forty. His chummies complained of medical negligence", was the only news summary in major news papers... What was the reason for the minor surgery What're the preparations for the corporator's  operation All are mystery for a  causal itinerary passer by crossing over the Tannery Road junction, wondering at the strange envountering with banners that come and go Keeping no annals Floating on the mind for a while Stopping at the red's knell, Moving with the green signal The rise and fall of heroes As binary one and zero The banners tell a story tertiary Of the rise and fall of a luninary Within a plane ofmomentary Variation of red and green On the Tannery road's screen.
0
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 5:13 AM UTC
BANNER HEROES
It is funny to see banners wishing Happiness displayed with cinematic glamour, the pictures and hordings of Banner heroes. The one at Tannery Road junction was peculiar to mention. Here it was common The captions "Happy" used to summon names of sundry festivals-Local  and national, even internstional. What's uncommon was the bold prints of a hero's name ARUMALAI outshining The caption and his larger than life picture establishing the photographer's digital brushing skills. A passer by wondered who'd be this Arumalai, Is he so great as to be advertised in polivynil? His glorious deeds may be what they want you to heed Still never ever seen or heard of his manners Anywhere than in these motley banners Just as a function at the Tannery road junction Each one passed by this colossal glance attracted provoking  protracted ruminance what do this expensive banners really mean? In another occasion the  glaring glorifying picture of ARUMALAI followed the tag Corporator, Below the man posing a DICTATOR. That was a period to a period of mystery! Banners changed with seasons with greetings on religious occasions Festivals of importance Birthdays of men even with crowded profiles of hailers Whose unrully manners Too clogging up the banners Like a wanted list of jailors. One day a strange banner hooked by the Tannery cross over Spooked and shocked every passer-by There the usual banner cut out the larger than life image blings-out Arumalai the BBMB corporator Posing as dictator! There was no wish of any kind. It was a notice startling any mind The sad demise of ARUMALAI The BBMB corporator Still possed as dectator By his living promoters. "He was sick and the local dispensary advised a minor operation. He was administered the necessary treatment. Was referred to a super-speciality centre and was declared dead. His sad demise was advertised, he was forty. His chummies complained of medical negligence", was the only news summary in major news papers... What was the reason for the minor surgery What're the preparations for the corporator's  operation All are mystery for a  causal itinerary passer by crossing over the Tannery Road junction, wondering at the strange envountering with banners that come and go Keeping no annals Floating on the mind for a while Stopping at the red's knell, Moving with the green signal The rise and fall of heroes As binary one and zero The banners tell a story tertiary Of the rise and fall of a luninary Within a plane ofmomentary Variation of red and green On the Tannery road's screen.
Continue reading...
68
Leave me where you dropped me, like litter in the boulevard. You're just another passer-by, who sees my home in the dirt. Pretend it wasn't you who made the mess, if it helps you sleep tonight. I suppose I'm disposable, now that I've been used.
0
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Litter
An omnibus across the bridge Crawls like a yellow butterfly, And, here and there, a passer-by Shows like a little restless midge. Big barges full of yellow hay Are moored against the shadowy wharf, And, like a yellow silken scarf, The thick fog hangs along the quay. The yellow leaves begin to fade And flutter from the Temple elms, And at my feet the pale green Thames Lies like a rod of rippled jade.
0
4k
Symphony In Yellow
173 A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass! Sometime, upon a bough, From which he doth descend in plush Upon the Passer-by! All this in summer. But when winds alarm the Forest Folk, He taketh Damask Residence— And struts in sewing silk! Then, finer than a Lady, Emerges in the spring! A Feather on each shoulder! You’d scarce recognize him! By Men, yclept Caterpillar! By me! But who am I, To tell the pretty secret Of the Butterfly!
0
3.7k
A fuzzy fellow, without feet
Humans. Essentially contradictory in nature. Complex. We see but a glimpse of the stranger's life. A ripple on the surface. A reflection of our own world. I was angry. He died and I was angry. I felt no one knew the depth Of the pain and guilt within me - No one knew him, How could they understand? I was just another passer-by All they saw was a ripple A happy face (A brave face) A reflection of their own mind.
0
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
A Ripple.
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens, And along the trampled edges of the street I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids Sprouting despondently at area gates. The brown waves of fog toss up to me Twisted faces from the bottom of the street, And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts An aimless smile that hovers in the air And vanishes along the level of the roofs.
0
3.6k
Morning At The Window
I am a thousand different things I'm people, objects, nature, animal I'm woman, man, girl, boy, child toddler, baby, foetus I'm all you could dream of (not) wanting I'm all you wish you were (not) I'm (your) anger, sadness, fear, regret I'm (your) happiness, joy, hope, love When I write, I'm a character fiction, autobiographical, biographical I'm lived, burned, broken, insane I'm madness, virginal, loose, free closeted, bi-curious, let's wait it out and see I'm intrigue, a passer by, I'm the observer, the observed, voyeurism, peeping tom, negative film Moss, McQueen, Klein I'm art, symbolism, post-modernism, I'm poetry; written and spoken I'm the woman you read of; her I'm the girl who made you cry I'm full to the brim of (your) inspiration I open doors to the past, then slam the door in your bright doe eyes I close doors to my future, and sneak back through cracks in the floor, just to get back I laugh in your face, and burn holes in skin at your absence I kick dirt in my eye, then cry wolf blinded, I'm the severest of contradictions, I say yes at no, no to yes, I decide on impulse, and cry on cue Beauty, romance, love, lust poetry, all the questions I am made of I answer in the written word mute, You only know me, (if of course you dare) by reading my rhymes, (non judgmental stance) and loving me regardless, (don't expect perfection) If you're going down the same road start today, face your demons, be the contradiction. © Sia Jane -- *"So unimpressed but so in awe Such a saint but such a ***** So self aware so full of **** So indecisive so adamant So rock and roll, so corporate suit So **** ugly, so **** cute So well-trained, so animal So need your love, so **** you all"* Robbie Williams - Come Undone
0
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Labyrinth (lost)
I am a thousand different things I'm people, objects, nature, animal I'm woman, man, girl, boy, child toddler, baby, foetus I'm all you could dream of (not) wanting I'm all you wish you were (not) I'm (your) anger, sadness, fear, regret I'm (your) happiness, joy, hope, love When I write, I'm a character fiction, autobiographical, biographical I'm lived, burned, broken, insane I'm madness, virginal, loose, free closeted, bi-curious, let's wait it out and see I'm intrigue, a passer by, I'm the observer, the observed, voyeurism, peeping tom, negative film Moss, McQueen, Klein I'm art, symbolism, post-modernism, I'm poetry; written and spoken I'm the woman you read of; her I'm the girl who made you cry I'm full to the brim of (your) inspiration I open doors to the past, then slam the door in your bright doe eyes I close doors to my future, and sneak back through cracks in the floor, just to get back I laugh in your face, and burn holes in skin at your absence I kick dirt in my eye, then cry wolf blinded, I'm the severest of contradictions, I say yes at no, no to yes, I decide on impulse, and cry on cue Beauty, romance, love, lust poetry, all the questions I am made of I answer in the written word mute, You only know me, (if of course you dare) by reading my rhymes, (non judgmental stance) and loving me regardless, (don't expect perfection) If you're going down the same road start today, face your demons, be the contradiction. © Sia Jane -- *"So unimpressed but so in awe Such a saint but such a ***** So self aware so full of **** So indecisive so adamant So rock and roll, so corporate suit So **** ugly, so **** cute So well-trained, so animal So need your love, so **** you all"* Robbie Williams - Come Undone
Continue reading...
61
i used to have some smiles 7 of them in fact 7 pretty little smiles one for each day of the week each brighter than the other we had monday, she was patient and honest but we had to give her away because we saw a passer by who needed to borrow her for a day and so we gave her away the stranger replaced her with a frown but that’s okay because we still have tuesday with us tuesday who is kind and innocent oh, wait no we don’t because along came a friend who had a broken heart and tuesday didn’t understand why but she wanted to sacrifice herself anyway before she went she said it’s okay, you’ve still got wednesday and the others oh, wednesday the tough softie he fought for them when needed he was loyal, he was brave. a soldier and i guess that’s why when my best friend lost her brother wednesday felt like he had to be there for her so i let her have him because at least i could see her smile on wednesday and before he went wednesday smiled at me and he said hey, you’ve still got thursday and the others then thursday and wednesday bid farewell two supposedly inseparable soulmates thursday, sweet and gentle to match wednesday’s toughness wednesday was his hero i guess that’s why when my sister was in pain thursday wanted to help just like the others thursday hugged me goodbye and wiped away my tears as he reminded me it was all for a good cause. he kissed friday goodbye and asked her to be good to me and friday promised she would but she left too she left while we were asleep she picked up and went we don’t know where but she was always the loud and reckless one we miss her though and i think the loss of the others finally made her snap. i don’t blame any of them. it’s for a good cause. that morning we woke up saturday, sunday and i all staring at one another i took them in, the polar opposite twins saturday with her cheerfulness and wildness, her free spirit and sunday with his sturdy consciousness and his good morals. they looked at each other and looked back at me and what they said broke me completely “we’re moving out. we’ve got a promotion and a house. we’ll still visit from time to time, but... we got a job where we can help the others .. it’s for a good cause” and i feel my shoulders slump as pain ebbs through me and i say “okay, i understand” and we say goodbye see, i once had 7 pretty little smiles one for each day of the week but one by one they left me they went on to do something great and here i am now with my straight mouth and dull eyes please don’t ask me for a smile because i don’t have any left within me ©️Elissar Mustapha 15.01.2020
0
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 5:11 AM UTC
7 smiles
i used to have some smiles 7 of them in fact 7 pretty little smiles one for each day of the week each brighter than the other we had monday, she was patient and honest but we had to give her away because we saw a passer by who needed to borrow her for a day and so we gave her away the stranger replaced her with a frown but that’s okay because we still have tuesday with us tuesday who is kind and innocent oh, wait no we don’t because along came a friend who had a broken heart and tuesday didn’t understand why but she wanted to sacrifice herself anyway before she went she said it’s okay, you’ve still got wednesday and the others oh, wednesday the tough softie he fought for them when needed he was loyal, he was brave. a soldier and i guess that’s why when my best friend lost her brother wednesday felt like he had to be there for her so i let her have him because at least i could see her smile on wednesday and before he went wednesday smiled at me and he said hey, you’ve still got thursday and the others then thursday and wednesday bid farewell two supposedly inseparable soulmates thursday, sweet and gentle to match wednesday’s toughness wednesday was his hero i guess that’s why when my sister was in pain thursday wanted to help just like the others thursday hugged me goodbye and wiped away my tears as he reminded me it was all for a good cause. he kissed friday goodbye and asked her to be good to me and friday promised she would but she left too she left while we were asleep she picked up and went we don’t know where but she was always the loud and reckless one we miss her though and i think the loss of the others finally made her snap. i don’t blame any of them. it’s for a good cause. that morning we woke up saturday, sunday and i all staring at one another i took them in, the polar opposite twins saturday with her cheerfulness and wildness, her free spirit and sunday with his sturdy consciousness and his good morals. they looked at each other and looked back at me and what they said broke me completely “we’re moving out. we’ve got a promotion and a house. we’ll still visit from time to time, but... we got a job where we can help the others .. it’s for a good cause” and i feel my shoulders slump as pain ebbs through me and i say “okay, i understand” and we say goodbye see, i once had 7 pretty little smiles one for each day of the week but one by one they left me they went on to do something great and here i am now with my straight mouth and dull eyes please don’t ask me for a smile because i don’t have any left within me ©️Elissar Mustapha 15.01.2020
Continue reading...
86
Angels walk among us, Each and everyday. Angels walk among us, No matter what you say. The Lord sends them to us, When he's not ready for us to leave. Yes, Angels walk among us, Though you may never see. And there I prayed, Making peace with the Lord. When I heard a sound. The flutter of wings perhaps? Or, Just the sound of an angel, As her feet touched the ground. My prayers were interrupted, So I snuck a quick peek. And there standing before me, My eyes beheld an angel. Her garb was plain, And she had raven black hair. I know now she was an angel, Who was standing there. She appeared as normal, as you and me. And she asked, If she could pray for me. But it was an angel, Sent there to save me. I was so very low, And thought I was ready to go. But the lord wasn't ready for me to go. And had sent his angel, To insure I did not go. Yes angels walk among us, In many different ways. Angels walk among us, And most will never see. Yes angels walk among us, The Lord could choose you, Or even me. Yes angels walk among us, The Lord sends them to us, In times of our need. A child had wandered, Much too far away. To an unsafe place, She should never be to play. Yet the Lord chose a passer by, Who'd never gone that way. To spy the young child, Who was in a dangerous way. To inform her parents, Of where, She'd gone to play. To insure she'd survive, Yet another day. Yes, Angels walk among us, Despite what you say. Angels walk among us, Pray they never go away. Yes, Angels walk among us, Though you may never see. Oh yes, Angels walk amongst us, One came and saved me. Coleman
0
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 4:45 PM UTC
"ANGELS WALK AMONG US"
Angels walk among us, Each and everyday. Angels walk among us, No matter what you say. The Lord sends them to us, When he's not ready for us to leave. Yes, Angels walk among us, Though you may never see. And there I prayed, Making peace with the Lord. When I heard a sound. The flutter of wings perhaps? Or, Just the sound of an angel, As her feet touched the ground. My prayers were interrupted, So I snuck a quick peek. And there standing before me, My eyes beheld an angel. Her garb was plain, And she had raven black hair. I know now she was an angel, Who was standing there. She appeared as normal, as you and me. And she asked, If she could pray for me. But it was an angel, Sent there to save me. I was so very low, And thought I was ready to go. But the lord wasn't ready for me to go. And had sent his angel, To insure I did not go. Yes angels walk among us, In many different ways. Angels walk among us, And most will never see. Yes angels walk among us, The Lord could choose you, Or even me. Yes angels walk among us, The Lord sends them to us, In times of our need. A child had wandered, Much too far away. To an unsafe place, She should never be to play. Yet the Lord chose a passer by, Who'd never gone that way. To spy the young child, Who was in a dangerous way. To inform her parents, Of where, She'd gone to play. To insure she'd survive, Yet another day. Yes, Angels walk among us, Despite what you say. Angels walk among us, Pray they never go away. Yes, Angels walk among us, Though you may never see. Oh yes, Angels walk amongst us, One came and saved me. Coleman
Continue reading...
68
With trembling knees, I took my position. The stage was set. Before me sat a school of eyes: transfixed, gazing with anticipation. Piercing the silence with an unfurling of paper, I stepped forwards, my mouth pressed to the microphone. A kick of adrenaline, engaging of breath and I began. “My inspiration.” Humble Houghton MBE; centre-half, captain, Man City. A lioness leader, Durham born and raised. With writing and wit, I’ll heap the praise. England debut at just 17. Free-kick expert, living the dream. Old-school-gritty-no-nonsense defender. An accurate passer - return to sender. A right-footed shot to burst the net. Dedicating her life, she doesn’t forget: school teams, amateur level, Sunderland weekends. A cup final beckons: the star of the show, the women’s game - she’s watched it grow. Now girls put on their boots, their shinnies and smile. Aiming to go that extra mile. The right to play football, the right to be free, Raising awareness of MND, Best of the best, who can it be? Stephanie Jayne Houghton MBE. Stepping away from the microphone the applause raining down, I knew I’d made an impression on people. Just like Steph had on me.
0
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 3:31 PM UTC
Applause
melting into mush the ice cream cone a party hat crushed ants begin to gather small black sprinkles or bugs? how quickly the treat is forgotten abandoned for scavengers and the shoes of passer-byers to oblivious to change their path
0
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Mush
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain— The Sun—upon a Morning meets them— The Wind— No nearer Neighbor—have they— But God— The Acre gives them—Place— They—Him—Attention of Passer by— Of Shadow, or of Squirrel, haply— Or Boy— What Deed is Theirs unto the General Nature— What Plan They severally—retard—or further— Unknown—
0
2.8k
Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre
Phrase Courte d'amour Si tu veux une fleur il faudra la cueillir mais si tu veux mon cœur il faudra me séduire. Phrase Courte d'amour Je suis un arbre, mes fleurs c'est toi. Je suis un ciel, mes étoiles c'est toi. Je suis une rivière, mon bateau c'est toi. Je suis un corps mon cœur c'est toi. Avec une larme d'émotion merci de tout cœur. Je me sens la plus heureuse sur terre grâce à toi mon cher je t'aime. Phrase Courte d'amour Toi qui illumines ma vie et m'inspires la joie. Tu habites mes nuits, tu habites mes jours, non ça ne change pas et tant mieux pour moi. Phrase Courte d'amour Tu te souviens pourquoi on est tombés amoureux? Tu te souviens pourquoi c'était si fort entre nous? Parce que j'étais capable de voir en toi des choses que les autres ignoraient. Et c'était la même chose pour toi mon amour. Phrase Courte d'amour **** de vous je vois flou et j'ai mal partout car je ne pense qu'à vous, je sais que c'est fou, mais j'aime que vous. La lune est comme un aimant, elle attire les amants regarde la souvent, tu trouvera celui que tu attend la main il te prendra pour la vie il te chérira. Phrase Courte d'amour Phrase Courte d'amour Pour vivre cette vie j'ai besoin d'un battement de cœur, avoir un battement de cœur j'ai besoin d'un cœur, avoir un cœur J'ai besoin de bonheur et avoir le bonheur j'ai besoin de toi! Un baiser peut être une virgule, un point d'interrogation, ou un point d'exclamation. C'est une épellation de base que chaque femme devrait savoir. Phrase Courte d'amour Il ne faut jamais dire c'est trop **** puisqu'on peut toujours devenir ce que nous souhaitons être et aussi avoir ce que nous avons toujours désiré. Le soleil ne s'arrête jamais de briller tout comme mon cœur ne s'arrête jamais de t'aimer. Phrase Courte d'amour L'éternité c'est de passer qu'une seule seconde de ma vie sans toi, mais qu'importe cette seconde si à mon retour tu es toujours là. Aimer est un sentiment d'appartenance à une personne de confiance. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour n'a pas besoin de carte, Phrase Courte d'amour car elle peut trouver son chemin les yeux bandés. Dans ce monde l'amour n'a pas de couleur,pourtant le tien a profondément détint sur mon corps. Phrase Courte d'amour Le cœur est comme une fleur quand elle manque d'eau elle meurt. L'amour que j'ai envers toi est incompréhensible aux yeux de tous ... Même de toi. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour est un mot que j'écris pour qu'il soit encore plus beau. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour se vit dans la richesse comme dans la détresse, dans la pauvreté ou la beauté. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour commence par donner de l'importance et finit par l'ignorance. Les plus belles choses dans la vie ne peuvent pas être vu, ni touchés, mais se font sentir que par cœur. Phrase Courte d'amour Qu'importe un océan ou un désert, l'amour n'a pas de frontières. Il Parait que quand on aime, on ne compte pas, mais moi je compte chaque secondes passée sans toi. Phrase Courte d'amour Toi mon cœur, mon amour, ma joie, je te dis ces quelques mots en pensent à toi, je t'aime et je ne peux pas vivre sans toi, à chaque moment, à chaque instant, je pense à toi une minute sans toi et tu me manques déjà, alors toi mon cœur, accepte moi, prends moi dans tes bras, embrasse-moi une dernière fois. Poeme courte d'amour
0
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Phrase Courte d'amour
Phrase Courte d'amour Si tu veux une fleur il faudra la cueillir mais si tu veux mon cœur il faudra me séduire. Phrase Courte d'amour Je suis un arbre, mes fleurs c'est toi. Je suis un ciel, mes étoiles c'est toi. Je suis une rivière, mon bateau c'est toi. Je suis un corps mon cœur c'est toi. Avec une larme d'émotion merci de tout cœur. Je me sens la plus heureuse sur terre grâce à toi mon cher je t'aime. Phrase Courte d'amour Toi qui illumines ma vie et m'inspires la joie. Tu habites mes nuits, tu habites mes jours, non ça ne change pas et tant mieux pour moi. Phrase Courte d'amour Tu te souviens pourquoi on est tombés amoureux? Tu te souviens pourquoi c'était si fort entre nous? Parce que j'étais capable de voir en toi des choses que les autres ignoraient. Et c'était la même chose pour toi mon amour. Phrase Courte d'amour **** de vous je vois flou et j'ai mal partout car je ne pense qu'à vous, je sais que c'est fou, mais j'aime que vous. La lune est comme un aimant, elle attire les amants regarde la souvent, tu trouvera celui que tu attend la main il te prendra pour la vie il te chérira. Phrase Courte d'amour Phrase Courte d'amour Pour vivre cette vie j'ai besoin d'un battement de cœur, avoir un battement de cœur j'ai besoin d'un cœur, avoir un cœur J'ai besoin de bonheur et avoir le bonheur j'ai besoin de toi! Un baiser peut être une virgule, un point d'interrogation, ou un point d'exclamation. C'est une épellation de base que chaque femme devrait savoir. Phrase Courte d'amour Il ne faut jamais dire c'est trop **** puisqu'on peut toujours devenir ce que nous souhaitons être et aussi avoir ce que nous avons toujours désiré. Le soleil ne s'arrête jamais de briller tout comme mon cœur ne s'arrête jamais de t'aimer. Phrase Courte d'amour L'éternité c'est de passer qu'une seule seconde de ma vie sans toi, mais qu'importe cette seconde si à mon retour tu es toujours là. Aimer est un sentiment d'appartenance à une personne de confiance. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour n'a pas besoin de carte, Phrase Courte d'amour car elle peut trouver son chemin les yeux bandés. Dans ce monde l'amour n'a pas de couleur,pourtant le tien a profondément détint sur mon corps. Phrase Courte d'amour Le cœur est comme une fleur quand elle manque d'eau elle meurt. L'amour que j'ai envers toi est incompréhensible aux yeux de tous ... Même de toi. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour est un mot que j'écris pour qu'il soit encore plus beau. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour se vit dans la richesse comme dans la détresse, dans la pauvreté ou la beauté. Phrase Courte d'amour L'amour commence par donner de l'importance et finit par l'ignorance. Les plus belles choses dans la vie ne peuvent pas être vu, ni touchés, mais se font sentir que par cœur. Phrase Courte d'amour Qu'importe un océan ou un désert, l'amour n'a pas de frontières. Il Parait que quand on aime, on ne compte pas, mais moi je compte chaque secondes passée sans toi. Phrase Courte d'amour Toi mon cœur, mon amour, ma joie, je te dis ces quelques mots en pensent à toi, je t'aime et je ne peux pas vivre sans toi, à chaque moment, à chaque instant, je pense à toi une minute sans toi et tu me manques déjà, alors toi mon cœur, accepte moi, prends moi dans tes bras, embrasse-moi une dernière fois. Poeme courte d'amour
Continue reading...
39
Red eyes Seething heart Pulse racing Get ready Sneaking through Taking, breaking Tripping, slipping Note passer Spitballer Locker shover Hopping fences Disobey Never learn Heartbreaker Drinking, reeking Staggering Fighting Till your Black and blue Steal and lie Oh why Not caring Let loose "No. I didn't do it." Smirking Mischief maker No Troublemaker
0
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
Troublemaker
"Do you notice," says a passer-by to the begging Diogenes, *"that people rather offer alms to the lame, blind and maimed? They do not offer alms to a philosopher like you. Why is it that you think?"* "That's because," says Diogenes *"people think one day they too might become lame, blind or maimed - but they never think they'd ever turn to philosophy So they ignore me..."*
0
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
Diogenes ignored
Five for fighting hands to the face personal foul player disgrace Illegal contact leap in the fray willful head shot leg astray Encroachment defense mouth guard out roughing the passer back field bout Grounding the pigskin mis-aligned horse collar tackle clip from behind Knee on knee offside end unnecessary roughness too many men Gross misconduct poke in the eye hooking the shooter sticks up high Match ejection over the top face off folly penalty shot Unsportsmanlike conduct chopping the block slew foot infraction hammer lock Stick to the head kick in the crotch **** end jab adhering the watch Slashing the d-man spearing the wing running the keeper back checking Intentional grounding stoppage in play punching and hacking delay of the game Striking the ref aggressor in fight obstructing the line out ear in a bite Loss of downs hands in the ruck pinching and boarding illegal upchuck Rules of the battle by the bye pushing the limits with a wink of an eye
0
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
The Sin Bin
...and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? ________________________ My poetry performed— before a crowd of johnny-jump-ups Their faces toward me in unison— they listen Intense, motionless energy Velvet applause of purple and Yellow yelling! Encore of performing in the perfume with a troop of lilacs They will remember me While I— await their return to May through billowing miles of drowsing sachet breathing euphorias between the lingerie of clouds What happens after ecstasy? Grieving in life’s presence? Loss of mind to self-possession? _________________ ...and when my sense of smell gives out I will hold on for a while to the walker of hearing trying not to stumble past the song of thrush beyond me in the blurring leaves once so clearly— crinkled, shiny, and infant green…. _____________ As a child I held on to nothing for dear life I could cup a storm in my hands! Could run with the rhythm of a horse! I could fly in my mind’s eye if the ferns I used were only wings! If I pretended hard enough I could eat my own home-baked mud pies! If only I could be— more than a fledgling of eight so earthbound, clumsy   _____________ But while the lilacs were out of town thunder met the flash and gutted summer! I ran for dear life! from the amazing distance of its echoes pelted by its gentle gift Snagged by growing things— the clinging prattle of their momentous tendrils....   ______________ Lovers run off the path past water lilies along the swollen veins to the river toward a grave and pounding heart The Ancient Flood was jealous.... Now when the wind softens and rain is tossed last, and only from the leaves may their encore be cupped in the hands of some passer-by Remembering— that either because of a trifling wind or the weight of time... a tree fell here clubbing the river’s bank senseless
0
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
If a Tree Falls
...and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? ________________________ My poetry performed— before a crowd of johnny-jump-ups Their faces toward me in unison— they listen Intense, motionless energy Velvet applause of purple and Yellow yelling! Encore of performing in the perfume with a troop of lilacs They will remember me While I— await their return to May through billowing miles of drowsing sachet breathing euphorias between the lingerie of clouds What happens after ecstasy? Grieving in life’s presence? Loss of mind to self-possession? _________________ ...and when my sense of smell gives out I will hold on for a while to the walker of hearing trying not to stumble past the song of thrush beyond me in the blurring leaves once so clearly— crinkled, shiny, and infant green…. _____________ As a child I held on to nothing for dear life I could cup a storm in my hands! Could run with the rhythm of a horse! I could fly in my mind’s eye if the ferns I used were only wings! If I pretended hard enough I could eat my own home-baked mud pies! If only I could be— more than a fledgling of eight so earthbound, clumsy   _____________ But while the lilacs were out of town thunder met the flash and gutted summer! I ran for dear life! from the amazing distance of its echoes pelted by its gentle gift Snagged by growing things— the clinging prattle of their momentous tendrils....   ______________ Lovers run off the path past water lilies along the swollen veins to the river toward a grave and pounding heart The Ancient Flood was jealous.... Now when the wind softens and rain is tossed last, and only from the leaves may their encore be cupped in the hands of some passer-by Remembering— that either because of a trifling wind or the weight of time... a tree fell here clubbing the river’s bank senseless
Continue reading...
69
I wish, most of all, to have had a tangibly physical notebook to write all this in. instead I use the 'note' function of my smartphone, smoke a cigarette. busy on forward, it's Pandora. one of those acid-high coffee overbouts, feeling the brain compress inside the skull. for an hour. for a few. some man in tattered-all's gets angry when I state I have no quarter. like I'm lying when I say it, and must be lying because my pants aren't worn like his. bus and car alike ghost past, the monastic rise of the local music conservatory pokes at the skyline, straight at the overcast. I toss "If on a winter's night" by Italo Calvino atop the third step of the church stairs leading to the church doors, the Seventh Day Adventist Church, Where we meet Jesus. I begin to write this poem, huddled atop my cellphone as if I were in silent debate with a lover, only sitting to make a point. to the left is a McDonald's flying a McDonald's flag. A man with a thoughtless white ball-cap and a thoughtful tattoo walks past with a McDonald's dollar drink in his right hand, pointing his arms in opposite directions to illustrate the dimensions of something he wants. "See?" he says to the woman he walks with, her face scabbed over with acne scars. my eyes are tunnel-visioned to the screen every time I follow a thought, or the glancing past of a passer-by like the woman with the black scarf, black hair, black sweater, grey pants, black shoes. the orange 'don't walk' sign pulses 7 times, and then sticks, as if waiting for a high-five. I reach into my backpack for a cigarette.
0
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
title appendix and dusk-break concentrate
I wish, most of all, to have had a tangibly physical notebook to write all this in. instead I use the 'note' function of my smartphone, smoke a cigarette. busy on forward, it's Pandora. one of those acid-high coffee overbouts, feeling the brain compress inside the skull. for an hour. for a few. some man in tattered-all's gets angry when I state I have no quarter. like I'm lying when I say it, and must be lying because my pants aren't worn like his. bus and car alike ghost past, the monastic rise of the local music conservatory pokes at the skyline, straight at the overcast. I toss "If on a winter's night" by Italo Calvino atop the third step of the church stairs leading to the church doors, the Seventh Day Adventist Church, Where we meet Jesus. I begin to write this poem, huddled atop my cellphone as if I were in silent debate with a lover, only sitting to make a point. to the left is a McDonald's flying a McDonald's flag. A man with a thoughtless white ball-cap and a thoughtful tattoo walks past with a McDonald's dollar drink in his right hand, pointing his arms in opposite directions to illustrate the dimensions of something he wants. "See?" he says to the woman he walks with, her face scabbed over with acne scars. my eyes are tunnel-visioned to the screen every time I follow a thought, or the glancing past of a passer-by like the woman with the black scarf, black hair, black sweater, grey pants, black shoes. the orange 'don't walk' sign pulses 7 times, and then sticks, as if waiting for a high-five. I reach into my backpack for a cigarette.
Continue reading...
8
I am A street without a name A pictureless frame A dull knife A still life I am A question mark A smothered spark An unread book A stolen look I am A blank page An empty stage A heavy sigh A passer-by I am A ship with paper sails A train on rusted rails A flightless bird A Dream Deferred I am An overcrowded mind A word that hasn't been defined A lighthouse that no longer stands Two feet sinking in the sand.
0
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Aimless
#*Gently cross over the wooden bridge You have places to go The bridge has to be there for every passer-by Dawn to dusk, weathered, not yet to dust Into the forest deep, where the rivers rumble and roar and sing lullabies*#
0
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 1:38 PM UTC
The bridge
As a passer-by I only watch across a darkened room, marvelling at your healing touch that turns the searing sting in my burning heart to one that doesn’t burn as much.
0
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
HEALING