Look into my world.
Sit in my time chair.
From here, the past, the
present, and the future can be’ seen.
Concentrate on your mind’s powers.
The chair disappears.
you go whenever you want.
Then you return and
awake in my time machine.
And you never left the room.
To read this poem in French, click here.
Check out the photographic images in the Freeze Frame Photo Gallery on the World of Words.
One crisis leads to another.
we don’t care for our brothers.
We have to help each other
so we can all live together.
To read this poem in French, click here.
Start writing your own poetry in four easy mini-lessons at the World of Words by Elias Tobias.
Will you love me
and lay with me
on a bed of stone?
Will you come
when you’re not busy
and you are alone?
We could pick up
the rocks and make
a house we’d call home.
The seeds of our love
would be planted
and flowers would
be grown
in a bed of stone.
To read this poem in French, click here.
There are many posters which can be downloaded for free, and you can find them here.
Dreams are sand castles
that get washed away by the tides of time,
whipped the winds of change, and
soaked by the raindrops of emotion.
To read this poem in French, click here.
Photos by Mike Hall converted into brushed paintings are in the ArtBrushed Photo Gallery. Download art for free.
Your love can’t be bought or sold,
It’s merely mine to have and hold.
This was a “one liner” spouted by Patty one day… Elias Tobias.
To read this poem in French, click here.
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I think I think
I think too much.
I think about
what I see, and
sometimes I think
I see too much.
I think about what
I feel is right and wrong.
I think about what is
small or tall.
And sometimes I
don’t think of
anything at all.
To read this poem in French, click here.
Photos by Mike Hall converted into brushed paintings are in the ArtBrushed Photo Gallery. Download art for free.
The young, fresh,
wild vine reaches
up from the ground
and imitates the
form of the strong,
sturdy wire fence, wrapping
around the metal
strands so tightly the
vine is almost
camouflaged until the leaves
grow and collect
more energy so, left
unchecked, the stems
extend themselves until
the vine become the fence.
The network of wires
that once supported
the busy vine becomes
a dead skeleton replaced
by a system of green
stems and leaves,
and berries for the birds.
I lived at a rented house in Brownsville, Texas, where I had to clean the vines from the old wire mesh fence on a hot day. Elias Tobias
To read this poem in French, click here.
Do you have a start of a poem, but the words just aren’t right? Go for help at the Poetry First Aid.
Out with the old.
In with the new.
Things didn’t work out
and that’s why I’m leaving you.
The pain will hurt,
Like a shot in the arm.
It will sting for a while,
but not do any real harm.
I’ll remember the good
times, and forget the bad.
It was a nice summer,
while the nights lasted.
To read this poem in French, click here.
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I just can’t erase
the glow on your face
when you smile at me.
It sets my heart free,
at least until you go.
Then I don’t really know
if your smile was real.
I don’t know how to feel.
When I see you at work,
I joke away the hurt.
It’s funny to believe
you’d like a guy like me
when you have a man at
home who would want to be
alone with you all of his life.
It must be hard to be a wife.
I just can’t erase
the glow on your face
when you smile at me.
It sets my heart free.
It must be a good dream
of what sex there could be.
It has to be a fantasy,
opposite from reality.
How beautiful the sight
of you in the morning light
as the sun shines on your head
after hours together in bed.
If we would get serious,
changes would be disasterous.
We would never be the same.
If we failed, I’d be to blame.
Your heart would fill with hate.
Then I couldn’t wait
for the day I’d let you go.
Then my love for you would show.
I just can’t erase
the glow of your face
when you smile at me.
It sets my heart free.
To read this poem in French, click here.
Do you have a start of a poem, but the words just aren’t right? Go for help at the Poetry First Aid.
You’re one of a kind,
in a class by yourself.
If I were your teacher,
books stay on the shelf.
I’d teach you what
you need to know
all by myself.
You’re one of a kind,
in a class by yourself.
On the first of April,
I’d be your fool, and
I’d be your favorite
subject in school.
In September, I’d
remember that you’re
the only one for me.
By December, you
would have a
diamond ring.
You’re one of a kind,
in a class by yourself.
If I were your teacher,
books stay on the shelf.
I’d teach you what
you need to know
all by myself.
To read this poem in French, click here.
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