Best Sometimes Poems

If I were in charge of the world
I'd cancel oatmeal,
Monday mornings,
Allergy shots, and also Sara Steinberg.
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One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
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Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.
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And if it snowed and snow covered the drive
he took a spade and tossed it to one side.
And always tucked his daughter up at night
And slippered her the one time that she lied.
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I'll tell you something: every day
people are dying. And that's just the beginning.
Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born,
new orphans. They sit with their hands folded,
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Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.
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I take my dreams and make of them a bronze vase
and a round fountain with a beautiful statue in its center.
And a song with a broken heart and I ask you:
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Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.
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Sometimes we collide, tectonic plates merging,
continents shoving, crumpling down into the molten
veins of fire deep in the earth and raising
tons of rock into jagged crests of Sierra.
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When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.
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And sometimes it happens that you are friends and then
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
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Sitting on the sands of the Bay, a small sea
Gigantic waves throw themselves on the sands, I see;
Methinks a true fact the sea never knows, is
How horribly, hungrily and thirstily it roars!
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SOMETIMES with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse
unreturn'd love;
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love--the pay is certain, one
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I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice,
An' things 'at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice!
I'm pretty brave, I guess; an' yet I hate to go to bed,
For, when I'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said,
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Said the little boy, 'Sometimes I drop my spoon.'
Said the old man, 'I do that too.'
The little boy whispered, 'I wet my pants.'
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Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes;
When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes:
Compounds a medley of disjointed things,
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Life is never ending process
It has no pause or recess
It beats on in different form
Constant changes with very good reform
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I hid the love within my heart,
And lit the laughter in my eyes,
That when we meet he may not know
My love that never dies.
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THE irresponsive silence of the land,
   The irresponsive sounding of the sea,
   Speak both one message of one sense to me:--
Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand
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Desire is similar to the currents and waves in the open ocean. Everything will be blown away if it is not as strong as a rock, and even then it is clear that sometimes it is weathered and sometimes it is abrasion because it is constantly eroded by the waves
Natural causality will never stop growing and developing
Nature will never break its promise; wind, waves and all the interference of the moon and sun become a synergy that will not be found on the planets in any space galaxy. Its orbit has been ordered by God and they all obey as part of piety to Him
Earth is a beautiful haven with exposure to land and sea as if you will never get tired of visiting
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Sometimes I tremble like a storm-swept flower,
And seek to hide my tortured soul from thee.
Bowing my head in deep humility
Before the silent thunder of thy power.
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What shall I call
My dear little dormouse?
His eyes are small,
But his tail is e-nor-mouse.
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Sometimes I feel alive
sometimes I feel dead
sometimes my heart hurts
sometimes it's all in my head
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memories are like
a child’s jack-in-the-box,
bound to pop up
when we least expect them
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Sometimes people go their whole life,
looking for that one, special person.
Sometimes they find what they're looking for,
when others come back empty handed.
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A voice..
resonating through the air
tolerating in reverberations and echoes
vibrating at any different levels
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.
Your friend belittled your topic
Your friend belittled your style
Your friend belittled your lack of rhyme
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Introduction: Sometimes your life sinks down a little, and when it does try and fight for Islam and have faith in Allah, ask for His divine guidance, believe and respect everyone, don't hold any grudge against someone, forgive them and surrender completely to Allah and believe in His graceful light.
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I have a shadow hooked to me.
Sometimes he's big.
Sometimes he's small.
Sometimes he isn't there at all.
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My Brother is so annoying
My Brother is so sad
My Brother drives me crazy
it makes me wanna go mad.
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The mighty oak I see outside
It's roots are deep and long
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The fishermen on Lake Michigan, sometimes,
For kicks, they spit two hunks of bait on hooks
At either end of a single length of line
And toss that up among the scavenging gulls,
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Walk into a restaurant with chicken on my mind
Look at the menu I want roastbeaf and wine
A waitress comes up I order baked beans and bread
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Life is ………………………
Sometimes hearing sometimes deaf
Sometimes green fruit sometimes a fallen leaf
Sometimes speaking sometimes dumb
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Sometimes we remember kisses,
Remember the dear heart-leap when they came:
Not always, but sometimes we remember
The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame
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Sometimes i cry,
because i am on my own
The tears I cry R bitter and warm
they flow with life but take no form
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My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar,
Higher and higher on soul-lent wings;
But ever and often and more and more
They are dragged down earthward by little things,
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Yasoda lulling Hari to sleep,
Shaking the cradle, cuddling and fondling,
Singing to Him a song.
My darling is sleepy
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Hands stretched out hesitantly,
A foot on the ground unstably,
Yasoda, teaching the Lord to walk.
Sometimes watching His adorable face
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Ideal and beloved voices
of those who are dead, or of those
who are lost to us like the dead.
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A thing that still hasn't come up to my lips and only peeks through my eyes,
It asks for words, sometimes from me and sometimes from you,
So that it can wear those words and come to the lips,
And so that it could be embraced by words..
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How should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rhymes
Gladly engrave thy love in steel,
If what my soul doth feel sometimes
My soul might ever feel!
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Language is a blessing and a curse –
sometimes uniting, sometimes dividing,
sometimes an arrow, sometimes blown blossoms,
misplaced seeds..
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My friend, Sherla, was hard to see
for Mom and Dad, not me.
My imaginary friend was all I had.
I’m an only child, you see.
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Sometimes in our tears,
Beautiful flowers are hiding.
Sometimes in the holes of our pain,
Love is born.
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Out of the darkness, fretted sometimes in its sleeping,
Jets of sparks in fountains of blue come leaping
To sight, revealing a secret, numberless secrets keeping.
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I don't have a little brother.
I don't have a sister, too.
It's just me and Mom and Daddy
but there's lots of things to do.
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When the days are long and wearisome
And heart has died a thousand deaths
The sound of rain is music to ears
Tip-tapping or pounding, it's good to hear
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-A POET-
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Sometimes high as the Everest,
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Sometimes friendship
Is like a wildflower.
It springs naturally
And its beauty,
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SOMETIMES she is like sherry, like the sun through a vessel of glass,
Like light through an oriel window in a room of yellow wood;
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This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.
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I trudged my way across the land
I tried so hard to take a stand
Doing what the good book said
Sometimes veering off the road instead.
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when happiness can't be won,
to satisfy ourselves we are the one.

sometimes things are not as we see,
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Pooh liked Autumn. Autumn means walking with a scarf round your neck and sometimes seeing your breath in the air like a silent conversation, and wet leaves underfoot and twigs going crackle or sometimes crack! which can be scary if you aren't holding CR's hand.

So here they are, walking together paw-in-hand down the path in Hundred-Acre Wood, and Pooh is humming a happy hum with words looking for it, rather like inquisitive flies that don't quite land on you, wondering if they should stay or not, and how the other flies feel if two of them land together...
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Roses do not grow in the garden more, might watering...

Winter in April has begun there, sometimes too meet...
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You are the Sun,
And i am Planet.
From years to years,
I am roaming around
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As we travel along our many different roads,
we meet people, sometimes face to face and sometimes not.
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what we see in others
is like an image in mirror
which changes, often —
sometimes big, sometimes small
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Life keeps moving on thro the doorway of time
sometimes ushering satisfaction and happiness
sometimes bringing trophies of pride and success
sometimes discarding friends who act as rivals
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As regards feeling pain, like a hand cut in battle,
consider the body a robe you wear.
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I am water
Sometimes solid...you can always depend on
Sometimes liquid...fits in anywhere
Sometimes vapor...ephemeral...I am there and then I am gone
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Somethings are better left unsaid
Sometimes there are letters written
only to be lefted forever unread
Some songs are not sunged aloud
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He asks me what you have stored for me ……….My LIFE

Oh, how innocent question he poses..
What have you stored for me my Life? ? ? ?
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sometimes writing is like pulling the
teeth of a thrashing shark whilst
his mouth is wrapped tightly around your leg
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How still it is here in the woods. The trees
Stand motionless, as if they did not dare
To stir, lest it should break the spell. The air
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When he was young, he use to look forward to a basketful of thrills.
Now he only looks forward to a basketful of pills.
He takes a pill for this and a pill for that.
Sometimes he feels like a lab rat.
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Sometimes, there is strength in numbers
Sometimes, the numbers are given strength
Tiny grains of sand make up the entire beach
A small handful of grains is easily moved
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Sometimes I feel so passionate a yearning
For spiritual perfection here below,
This vigorous frame, with healthful fervor burning,
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Sometimes our words dance
in a rhythmic motion
sometimes bleed like a bullet-riddled body
we are the poets
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I am afflicted with those memories,
sometimes, I'm glad that I have them,
sometimes, I feel cursed that they are me,
sometimes , I'm not sure how I feel,
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She said, 'I am wrong to want something more, it's true.
The hours go by very quietly just so.
You are there. I never takes my eyes off you.
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I have a dream I'm
clutching with the passion
of a spring leaf;
this dream I'm carrying
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The leaves that in the lonely walks were spread,
Starting from off the ground beneath the tread,
Coursed o'er the garden-plain;
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Being glad is simple
and sometimes glad is great.
Sometimes glad is liking
almost everything on my plate.
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Do you whisper my name while you are sleeping?
Do I pass by your mind while you are weeping?

Do you sometimes feel like you are out of control?
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Sometimes a new moment
Of spontaneity
And such great bravery
Restores rhythm of life
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...Out of some irrepressible urge of talking, I tried to talk to a sparrow, a daily guest who used to sit on my window frame and sometimes hopped on to some twig of the only uncared for tree, a loner like me. I was bold enough in my attempt as if to disturb her calm and poised loneliness, but as I called her she did not pay attention to me; I was shocked, humiliated, I felt my thoughts dying inside,
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Love is no cat and mouse game
There's no win or loss
There's no slave or boss
Sometimes you retreat
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Lice perch in the hair
Sometimes they want to show off
They cling on collars.
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Sometimes i feel so alone in a million crowd
Sometimes i feel so empty inside
On da road;
In da crowd;
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sometimes i feel words are all we have
sometimes i feel words are what we don't have
sometimes the wealth arrogates us
sometimes the dearth reduces us, bankrupt
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You sang a song of eternal sanctum
Beneath a sliver moon of hope renewed
I discerned your mother’s voice, as it passed
Like an Olympic torch, to your daughters,
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She starts gently tapping on the floor and then romps,
With one hand spread and other near to chest, she stomps;

Stage light follows her as she glissades below,
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Made up of feelings
More than of words
A poem, can,
Sometimes enlighten,
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Face the night with a glow
Smile down on a poor soul
Light up a sad, secluded pathway
Spread your light, but not hide your scars
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I see this object at night
With me sometimes behind
Sometimes near me, aligned
Then it follows me outright
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How pleasant it is to know Jayne,
Sometimes she can be a right pain,
She'll talk you to death,
Don't come up for a breath,
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I don't know much about what I'm writing
except that I'm writing;
I don't know much about what I've written either,
except what I read;
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I have a cat with fur as soft as silk
She always has an eye on my milk
A cutie, I love so much
Sometimes, she acts like a witch
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We are sleeping sometimes deeply,
At this deepness of the new night,
Sometimes we are waking up again,
Dreams or nightmares we see suddenly.
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I feel like a train sometimes
that can't get no locomotin.'

My wheels lumber
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As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den (the gaol), and I laid me down in that place to sleep: and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed; and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled;

"For mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me."
~ Psalm 38:4 ~
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Sometimes you strike the right chord

Sometimes you get the nuance
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As an artiste,
Does it matter who is watching you?
Your art is for yourself,
You feed your own soul,
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I am simple I have my own way
No matter what others say
Acting is my passion and my hobby is writing
My mind is reflected in my writings
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