shayarisms4lovers June18 262 - You’re My Reason for Living | A Poem by Joseph Romano

You’re My Reason for Living | A Poem by Joseph Romano

Every placed I go your fair face beams. You are a beautiful woman, you’re the woman of my dreams. Your heart is loving and tender and forever forgiving. You’re the reason I’m here, you’re my reason for living. You opened your heat and gave me a new life. Then you made me the happiest the day you became my wife. And just when I thought you made me the happiest man in the world. You presented us both with a new baby girl. And just when I thought we had all the happiness and joy. You presented us both with a new baby boy.

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shayarisms4lovers June18 159 - The Fountain | A Poem by P.K. Deb

The Fountain | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Naturally, the colossal mountain was icy and rocky — stood beside the slum of the half-fed and half-naked in a desert, the prayer and the importunity of their hunger and thirst reverberated in the open air and the sky of infinity, vibrated even the hard heart of the icy-mountain and at last succeeded to melt it down to a little fountain for them. A responsibility geared the fountain to flow down with water and wealth for the ever-thirsty and hungry who fidgeted and wept lying on the foot of the mountain, hence, with a sympathetic fuel it rushed down to the desert. Still, it sang, made the rock to clap and the fishes to dance, continued its well destined, brakeless and nap-less journey till it reached the desert of hunger and thirst of the indigents and watched their dry faces who ran towards it tumultuously to immerse their curse of suffering in the water of the fountain. Alas, suddenly the fountain was surrounded by the pillagers — the sun, wind, rocks, sands, trees and other suckers who plunged in to the fountain and snatched the wealth first and at last, soaked and sucked the water to its last drop in […]

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shayarisms4lovers June18 276 - Pain Became My Friend Today | A Poem by Shannen Wrass

Pain Became My Friend Today | A Poem by Shannen Wrass

Pain became my friend today She showed me how to hide She’d been watching from a distance Every tear I cried Pain became my friend today Reached out her hand to me Then pulled me into darkness Introducing misery Pain became my friend today She’s emptying my heart She’s now my constant companion Tearing me apart Pain became my friend today She isolates my soul Now without her I am nothing In her I’m consoled Pain became my friend today Saw me kneel down and cry Then she lay down right next to me Kissed my joy good-bye Pain became my friend today Acquainted me with sorrow Who showed me how to dwell in agony And fear the break of tomorrow Pain became my friend today She’s making my heart cold Pain became my friend today The only hand I hold

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shayarisms4lovers June18 257 - Me and My Two Friends | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Me and My Two Friends | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Boiling of blood in the burning sun cooks the earnings for the three friends — me, my Heart and my Soul. Nevertheless, quite active we have been and blissful too in spite of sweat- bathing and inhuman fast breathing for making passive the curse of scarcity, well integrated we have been with all sorts of co-operation, care and love for disintegrating the black shadows of misfortunes and united we have been in expecting a golden hunger to be gifted to us for enjoying the poor dish as a royal one. Hence, we have been blessed to sit comfortably surrounding a discoloured wooden dining table with an ocean of hunger to float away all the poor dishes in a blink of the eyes with all the eagerness and satisfaction. Me and my two friends feed one another, feel good and sketch a blissful smile on our bright faces, thankful to divinity and dignity of work who bestow the suitable dishes for solicited hunger. Slowly and silently our dreamful slumber appears, invades each and every rooms of our entities and all the pains and strains gained disappear, replacing peace and comfort on a hard bed. Heart and soul lie keeping me in […]

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shayarisms4lovers June18 234 - Communist Pillow Talk | A Poem by Daniel Klawitter

Communist Pillow Talk | A Poem by Daniel Klawitter

“In my opinion, true love is expressed in reserve, modesty, and even shyness toward his idol, and never in temperamental excesses or too premature intimacy.” —Karl Marx, in a private letter, London, 1866. Come a little closer, my comrade and I’ll whisper my confession: Nothing turns me on like fighting against oppression! In the midst of class struggle there’s always time to snuggle. (Better red and in bed than bourgeoisie, I’ve always said.) Who cares if we wake the neighbors with the sounds of our surplus labors? For it’s more than evolutionary… If our love is revolutionary! So seduce me, my scarlet darling; let me give you a tickle. You got the hammer and I’ve got the sickle. Dialectical materialism is the tune to which we dance. Workers of the world Unite! There’s an insurrection in my pants. Visit Daniel at

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shayarisms4lovers mar18 188 - The Poor Truth | A Poem by P.K. Deb

The Poor Truth | A Poem by P.K. Deb

All the sceptic noses— flat or pointed Are shrivelled as something wrong in the air Surprisingly all hands— black or red Close their ears as something harsh to hear. Suddenly all heads—block or inquisitive Turn down as reluctant to feel and see And finally all feet— lame or sportive Run to avert something scaring and flee. ‘’Please don’t run away’’ cries out the stranger ‘’I want to change you all’’ he utters ‘’Don’t be afraid, I am not a beggar, Realize me, I am the truth’’ he mutters. Alas, the poor truth is miserably left alone No one returns to hear or bear it And care it sympathetically as their own, As to them, it is quite obsolete and unfit. A noise reverberates in the air and the sky Some lunatics approach to the fallen truth A samba they dance and sing to pacify The truth, lift it and sneak to their booth.

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shayarisms4lovers June18 266 - Sports Day and Exploitation | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Sports Day and Exploitation | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Hip – hip – hurray — The suppressed hearts must bloom today as the bloodless lips get back their lost smiles, Let’s play, the annual village sports day is on today. Hip – hip – hurray — The exploitation is on leave and departed with its ugly blood sucking oppression and grants a relief to the exploited today. Hip – hip – hurray — The blissful minds are absolutely unmindful to their plough, cattle, sweating, low-wage, poverty, indebtedness and illness today. Hip – hip – hurray — The indigents witness the annual smile on the face of the landlord fortunately instead of regular reproof and frowning today. Hip – hip – hurray — A rare competition is to be contested among the feeble who are already defeated and receded under compulsion today. Hip – hip – hurray — an amazement is to be ensued definitely as the heartless hands are preceded for the poor’s heartfelt enjoyment today. No more hurray, that’s all for today as the village sports day is almost over and the poor’s are to be refaced the demon- the exploitation with its oppression from tomorrow.

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shayarisms4lovers may18 75 - Bushwhacked | A Poem by Daniel Klawitter

Bushwhacked | A Poem by Daniel Klawitter

“The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war.” –John Lyly, Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit (1578). Of all her many weapons, it was her voice that left me voiceless— like sunrise on a battlefield speechless with corpses. I tell you that her words were like war— a skirmish of metaphors wounding my already purple heart. Ambushed and bushwhacked booby-trapped and blown apart in the jungles of despair— I was captured with multiple fractures and was unprepared for this guerilla warfare. I am listed as: a prisoner of conscience a casualty of her barbed wire kisses and the double-barreled shotgun of her cocked and loaded eyes. She hardly even cried when she pulled the trigger and said: “This is war, kid.” Now… Go figure. Visit Daniel at

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Neighborhood Disturbance | A Poem by Daniel Klawitter

Who knew it would come to this? Certainly not you nor the birds twittering in the tree. Or the squirrel fidgeting by the flowerpot — or the rain in the rainbow — no, not even me. Not even I could have guessed the things confessed by others carried on the gossip of a breeze. But we just sat there, quiet as leaves — listening when the disturbance suddenly ceased. Everyone was waiting on everyone else to see who might call the police.

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shayarisms4lovers mar18 43 - Bitter Sweet | A Poem by Anthony Cannon

Bitter Sweet | A Poem by Anthony Cannon

Can you taste this? They wanna know how I feel about it. How I feel about holding back my pain and thankfulness for so many remorseful years. I account for the misery and woe in my bed sheets, All of the nights of losing sleep and waking up feeling so incomplete. But then again… The times I’m glad I’m still in God’s favor, Still sitting on my throne over a pristine spotless temple. Not ashamed of the tread of my feet I trod. This potent wine I spill from my abode freezes solid- Hard as rocks as they drop to deliver panic and unnecessary persecution! This is bitter sweet. I’ve been picked over, left for dead, dissed at and forgotten, They say my time has ran out, But how could I believe this nonsense I’m reciting to you? Can you believe this? I rise up and stay above it, Thinking to myself I’m on my own island of continuation… That this lonesome, dark, pitch black nightmare will never end. Go all the way to gehenna and back and still ceases to not exist. This is bitter sweet. Like how I’m ecstatic but it breaks my bones and crushes the marrow. […]

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shayarisms4lovers mar18 09 - My Fantasy World | A Poem by Joseph Romano

My Fantasy World | A Poem by Joseph Romano

I look out into space and I constantly stare. At a distant land I know not where. I’m in a world that has meaning only to me. When I’m living in my world of fantasy. I drift away many times it seems. To my little world of fantastic dreams. With my troubles behind, I’m in a world without cares. And with a blink of an eye I’m transported there, My world is soothing and suspended in time. It’s where I go to relax my mind. This is a world of my very own. Where the dreams are mine, mine alone. Nothing in the world ever matters it seems. When I’m lost in my world of fantastic dreams.

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shayarisms4lovers June18 262 - Lou Reed Never Wore Brown | A Poem by G.S. Katz

Lou Reed Never Wore Brown | A Poem by G.S. Katz

Black Gray Leather The original Punk Kid from Long Island Who blasted into our Rock psyche Heroin Alcohol Haze Sweet Jane New Sensations Halloween Walks on the Wild Side You could always depend on Lou Always in our NYC mantra Sex Motorcycles Freaks Gays before there were Gays Hard women Transsexual lullabies Tops Bottoms Bdsm Lower East Side Pain because it felt good The music Searing guitars Off key slightly Seedy one night stands Sex in cheap hotels With bad lighting Somehow it wasn’t so bad When Lou sang about it One thing is for sure Punk is wounded We lost our Captain Who went quietly into the dark night R.I.P. Lou You will be missed Thank you For never wearing brown…

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shayarisms4lovers June18 255 - My Beautiful Mary | A Poem by Joseph Romano

My Beautiful Mary | A Poem by Joseph Romano

When I look into the heavens, yours is the only face I see. You are not only my lover and wife, you are my future fantasy. Of all the woman I’ve ever known. You my darling Mary are the one I chose to be my very own. No other woman has done so many beautiful things to me As wonderful as the things you’ve done to my fantasy. I can live my life for a hundred or more years. There is no other woman that can bring to me so many happy and joyful tears. Mary my darling I love the way you took and molded me. You took and made me into the man I thought I could never be. We’ve been married now for sixty five years or more And to this day you are the only one I love and adore.

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shayarisms4lovers June18 234 - The Old Folks (Who Live Where We Live) | A Poem by Wendy Lee Klenetsky

The Old Folks (Who Live Where We Live) | A Poem by Wendy Lee Klenetsky

You can see her; that little old woman who peers out secretly from behind the yellowing curtains on the window. This is as close to the outside world that she dares to come. She sees no one and no one comes to visit. you can see her… Here he comes; that small, bent-over little old man with the rickety cane. He hobbles as quickly as he can down the street, not looking up at the people who stare as they pass by. Here he comes… They live this way thanks to us and our society; She, afraid to come down from her 2-room apartment, and He, racing (as fast as he can) by all so as not to have his few packages taken, or be knocked down for the few pennies he has in his ripped pockets. Look at them… Look very closely… We be BE them shortly… The Old Folks! Look very closely…

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