It becomes a bore doing imaginative books that do not touch imaginations, and at length one stops even planning them.
quote by H.G. Wells
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imaginations Real
Voices across all the nation,
Echo in my mind.
In the streets,
In the factories,
In the towns.
Living out what imagination made real.
Got to leave the old world behind,
Use a fantasy,
Imagination is real.
Chorus
Im so much in love,
I cant explain,
Imaginations real.
Build your dreams,
And make them strong,
Lmaginations real.
Imaginations real,
Imaginations real,
Imaginations real,
Imaginations real.
No solution,
Hatred,
Fear of whats to come.
Dont cry,
Cant you feel it inside,
Cant you see its the only way it can be.
For our past has left us alone,
With a cold reality,
Imagination made real.
Chorus
If you use a dream
To change a mind,
Then imaginations real.
Think with your heart,
And you will see,
Imaginations real,
Imaginations real,
Imaginations real,
Imaginations real.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Academic Life
one sometimes fear
leaving an academic life
seeing the world
through a thick reading eyeglass
sleeping with books
surfing on the net
writing treatises and
too legalese
side tripping with literature
and floating with
poems on wild imaginations
on the clouds of puff
and huff
one fears that after
sleeping with books
night after night
dating with the lampshade
headboard
one finally loses what is more
important
than these prints and
paragraphs
when finally she is gone
dating real people that she can touch
and feel.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Adored Exploration
My midnights are not spent,
In low tides.
Or staring at the stars,
That twinkle bright.
I might,
Decide...
To shake awake imaginations.
I don't stay up to wonder why...
Some people rather sleep,
Away their time!
I might,
Decide...
To shake awake imaginations.
Give me a chance to fly and soar.
Give me a reason to want more...
To fly off shores to me that bore.
In adored...
Exploration!
And dance on mountaintops without stop!
Or 'rock' with a beat I like until I drop.
And not be mocked by folks who try to rob,
My adored...
Exploration!
Give me a chance to fly and soar.
Give me a reason to want more...
To fly off shores to me that bore.
In adored...
Exploration!
My midnights are not spent,
In low tides.
Or staring at the stars,
That twinkle bright.
I might,
Decide...
To shake awake imaginations.
Give me a chance to fly and soar.
Give me a reason to want more...
To fly off shores to me that bore.
In adored...
Exploration!
Give me a chance to fly and soar.
In adored...
Exploration!
Give me a chance to fly and soar.
In adored...
Exploration!
Give me a reason to want more...
To fly off shores to me that bore.
Give me a chance to fly and soar.
In adored...
Exploration!
My midnights are not spent,
In low tides.
Or staring at the stars,
That twinkle bright.
I might,
Decide...
To shake awake imaginations.
In adored...
Exploration!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you are planning for a year, sow rice if you are planning for a decade, plant trees if you are planning for a lifetime, educate people.
If you are planning for a year, sow rice; if you are planning for a decade, plant trees; if you are planning for a lifetime, educate people.
When planning for a year, plant corn. When planning for a decade, plant trees. When planning for life, train and educate people.
It is often said that men are ruled by their imaginations; but it would be truer to say they are governed by the weakness of their imaginations.
quote by Walter Bagehot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you are planning for one year, grow rice. If you are planning for 20 years grow trees. If you are planning for centuries, grow men.
Love is Unexplainable
I hold books and note-books as rose.
And yell at those who mishandle them.
I bore her when she tore my note book.
She is my three year old grand daughter.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Heart Stops
(diane warren)
(recorded by eric carmen)
Arista as1-2264 / 1992
I tell myself
This cant be love
That Im feelin
But if I think that my world
Will be the way that it was
Im dreamin
Why do I feel so high
At the mention of your name
Why do I act so shy
Cant explain, cant explain, cant explain
But darlin
Wo-wo-wo when you go walkin by
My heart stops
My heart stops
I cant explain it
Wo-wo-wo when you look in my eye
My heart stops
My heart stops
Every time youre near
Just thinkin about you
Darlin it just does
Something to me
And when we meet on the street
I feel the flame of love
Burnin through me
I try to play it cool
And never show a sign
But I give myself away
Every time, every time, every time
cause darlin
Wo-wo-wo when you go walkin by
My heart stops
My heart stops
I cant explain it
Wo-wo-wo when you look in my eye
My heart stops
My heart stops
Every time youre near
My heart stops, my heart stops
My heart stops, my heart stops
Oh, whenever youre close to me
Theres a wave of love rushin over me
And I never felt this way
Cant explain, cant explain, cant explain
But darlin
My darlin
Wo-wo-wo when you go walkin by
My heart stops
My heart stops
I cant explain it
Wo-wo-wo when you look in my eye
My heart stops
My heart stops
Every time youre near
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just When The Rain Stops
just when the rain stops
something within you stops too
the misery of being
confined in the small prison of
your thoughts
you find a window
and this wide door and you grope
for the key
to open something closed
days ago
you breathe the sea breeze
and take some salt of
life and you
release your sighs like
an earned ire
you take freedom finally
letting go your fingers and hands
your feet dance
go, go, go
your books on the table make the
cheering squad
out there
nature wants to be read
the books close finally
their pages like tongues
hide behind the thick glossy
hardbound cover
you are not a fool finally
touching the maps drawn
by the falling rain
welcome to the world
the trees tell you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cursed Cities Counties Created No Libraries
Bintaro nine years no libraries no books
a dark prison to creative book worm minds
empty desert wasteland eroded imaginations
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballade Of The Bookworm
Far in the Past I peer, and see
A Child upon the Nursery floor,
A Child with books upon his knee,
Who asks, like Oliver, for more!
The number of his years is IV,
And yet in Letters hath he skill,
How deep he dives in Fairy-lore!
The Books I loved, I love them still!
One gift the Fairies gave me: (Three
They commonly bestowed of yore)
The Love of Books, the Golden Key
That opens the Enchanted Door;
Behind it BLUEBEARD lurks, and o'er
And o'er doth JACK his Giants kill,
And there is all ALADDIN'S store, -
The Books I loved, I love them still!
Take all, but leave my Books to me!
These heavy creels of old we bore
We fill not now, nor wander free,
Nor wear the heart that once we wore;
Not now each River seems to pour
His waters from the Muses' hill;
Though something's gone from stream and shore,
The Books I loved, I love them still!
ENVOY.
Fate, that art Queen by shore and sea,
We bow submissive to thy will,
Ah grant, by some benign decree,
The Books I loved--to love them still.
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Art is like a venom
With understanding we could poison
Without caution we could die
With creativity comes imaginations
With imaginations comes truth
With truth comes pain
With pain comes death
Dear art, you're like a venom,
So painful yet so effective..
Your Tender Touch
Your tender touch on my brow
eases all my anguish and pain.
Your tender touch on my cheek
stops the tears that want to fall like rain.
Your tender touch upon my hand
reminds me of our gold wedding band.
We fell in love so long ago
to take one another through sickness and pain.
Now your tender touch reminds me
of our vows all over again.
Our love remains a constant joy
within our passing years.
Still your tender touch can heal
all my wanton fears.
6 June 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forbidden
Forbidden
A casual glance, a gentle touch,
It stops at that, we know it must.
A chaste embrace, an offered cheek
which I dryly kiss and count it sweet.
Once we’d danced around a flame-
an older man, a willing maid.
Both comfortable in our own skin
In secret we began our sin.
I know your body like my wife’s
But she was elsewhere, I recall
Your husband, too, was on the road
When I, like Adam, had my fall.
We speak of nothings, jobs, careers,
Not of our existential fears.
Celebrity splits, Horrid crimes,
our incest ever on our minds.
We dance like moths about a flame
which never must be lit again.
It stops at this, we know it must
a casual glance, a gentle touch.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dad and Me
Inside our house you'll find crannies and nooks.
Crevices and cracks and fissures and books!
Books under the bed and on the floor,
Books around the table and beside the door,
Books on the bookshelf and surrounding it,
Books all over the house, every single bit!
Not a one of these books are non-fiction,
Different worlds are their depiction.
Fictional, sci-fi, dark and fantasy,
Horror and happy, more books for me!
Books belonging to my father,
Or belonging to me as I rather.
My father and I in bookworm heaven,
Until mum cleans up around half past seven.
She throws the books in a huff,
Says it's a mess and to clean it up!
Well dad and I try to clean,
But on the work we quickly wean
And in one of the larger nooks
You'll find dad and me reading our books.
poem by Lenore Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abused and Not Know
Planning your life…
Concerning another…
Ain’t that a mother…
That person whom you…
Think you know…
In and out of your life…
No other place to go…
Being pulled by the wind…
Over and over…
Again and again…
The word…is out…
You are like a mother…
Hen…but yeah…
Marriage would make you…
His kin…say again…
Just another way to sin…
For your blending in…
Today…
Which is still a trend…
Jumping the broom…
No matter what name…
Abuse is a damn shame…
Planning your life…
And trying to keep some spice…
How wrong is nice…
How right is wrong…
Abuse is strong…
Crying or singing…
A song…
Do you really know the person…
For which…you wish…to share…
Damn…I do declare…
Is it to me…
Am I fair…
“I’m in love I don’t care”
I won’t listen to hear-say…
I won’t let my heart run-away…
In my life I want him to stay…
Not really concerned about his play…
I think…with…me…
It’s okay…
I have closed the mouth…
Of my woman inside…
Maybe I don’t have any pride…
Planning…and waiting…
Waiting and planning…
Whisperkwane
swtlamb@yaho o.com
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prevenge
Can you tell that I'm planning prevenge?
Read my mind, yes, I'm planning prevenge
At the freak show,
in the front row,
mi amigo,
lost in the sound.
Now you know that the girls are just making it up,
Now you know that the boys are just pushing their luck
Now you know that my ride doesn't really exist,
and my name's not really on that list.
Can you tell that I'm planning prevenge?
Read my mind, yes, I'm planning prevenge
Fully moto
On the headfo
Rock the info
The micro-type king
Calling Mr. Pupkin
to join us at the love-in
Because Pupkin comes alive
When prevenge is the plan
See Pupkin take the stand.
Tired of waiting,
Tired of watching,
Negotiating,
Parading around.
Now you know that the girls are just making it up,
Now you know that the boys are just pushing their luck,
Now you know that my ride doesn't really exist,
And my name's not really on that list.
Can you tell that I'm planning prevenge?
Read my mind, yes, I'm planning prevenge,
At the freak show,
In the front row,
Mi amigo,
Lost in the sound.
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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