A bird that imitates others does not get used to a place.
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One who imitates what is bad always goes beyond his model; while one who imitates what is good always comes up short of it.
quote by Francesco Guicciardini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All that I desire to point out is the general principle that Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art imitates life. Life imitates high school.
quote by Brad Holland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paradoxically though it may seem, it is none the less true that life imitates art far more than art imitates life.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life imitates art more than art imitates life.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad[e] Of Imitation
If they hint, O Musician, the piece that you played
Is nought but a copy of Chopin or Spohr;
That the ballad you sing is but merely 'conveyed'
From the stock of the Arnes and the Purcells of yore;
That there's nothing, in short, in the words or the score
That is not as out-worn as the 'Wandering Jew,'
Make answer-Beethoven could scarcely do more-
That the man who plants cabbages imitates, too!
If they tell you, Sir Artist, your light and your shade
Are simply 'adapted' from other men's lore;
That-plainly to speak of a 'spade' as a 'spade'-
You've 'stolen' your grouping from three or from four;
That (however the writer the truth may deplore),
'Twas Gainsborough painted your 'Little Boy Blue';
Smile only serenely-though cut to the core-
For the man who plants cabbages imitates, too!
And you too, my Poet, be never dismayed
If they whisper your Epic-'Sir Eperon d'Or'-
Is nothing but Tennyson thinly arrayed
In a tissue that's taken from Morris's store;
That no one, in fact, but a child could ignore
That you 'lift' or 'accommodate' all that you do;
Take heart-though your Pegasus' withers be sore-
For the man who plants cabbages imitates, too!
POSTSCRIPTUM-And you, whom we all so adore,
Dear Critics, whose verdicts are always so new!-
One word in your ear. There were Critics before . . .
And the man who plants cabbages imitates, too!
poem by Henry Austin Dobson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Bird In Your Cage
we have this bird
we both own it and love it and care for it
our bird
and you have this cage
that you only own
golden, new and strong and as you say it
so reliable
that when our bird is in that cage
it will be safe
and cannot escape
we feed this bird together
and give it water and birdseeds
and a place of twigs and swing
where the bird can play
and perch upon
like it is on a tree
days and years
we keep this bird in your cage
and we see it is dying
and wanting to be free
yet you say, this sickness is just temporary
time heals what has wounded it
and shall forget the power of its wings
days and more years
we keep this bird in your cage
and i have not listened at all
to the sad song of that bird
her waning chirps
her weakened wings
her way of losing hold to the dreams of its wings
today we see this bird is dead
but you have no sadness at all
you say, you will buy another bird
again to be kept in your cage
i could have told you
i am the bird in your cage and i too have forgotten the power of
my wings
i could have told you, i have long died
and have forgotten what freedom is, what love is, what i am
in the first place. How can i ever tell you?
you are my cage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An adult is still a child
A child imitates its mother with air.
An adult imitates models to seem fair.
A child imagines a child in a doll
And enjoys tending it with fantasy.
An adult imagines some ones in his
And experience bliss in fantasy.
A child fears and pretends ignorance.
An adult dreads and pretends innocence.
Though old, still a child, I amuse myself
Though wise, still a child, I fool myself.
12.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Farewell Little Bird
Little bird,
why are you so lonely?
Did you not like your home
that I have prepared for you?
Look! it's made of gold!
Can't you see?
I have given you
the nicest place to live
because
you are so dear to me.
Little bird
please sing me a song,
the one
that I have heard from you
the day I saw you in the forest
before I made you mine.
Little bird,
why are you still lonely?
Is my heart for you
not enough?
Do you really want your life
back in the forest? ....
Little bird,
there you are!
now, spread your wings
I'm setting you free.....
Little bird,
I'd rather let you go
and see your happiness,
than keep you beside me
and see your loneliness.
Farewell little bird.
I wish
to hear your song again
......in the forest.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ay De Mi
O bird, that used to press,
Thy head against my cheek
With touch that seem'd to speak,
And ask a tender 'yes' -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.
O tender downy breast,
And warmly beating heart,
That beating seem'd a part
Of me who gave it rest -
Ay de mi, my bird:
Ay de mi, my bird, my bird -
Ay de mi, my bird.
poem by George Eliot
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Wingless Bird?
We dwell in thee Oh God
As the fish dwells in the sea
We find our place in you
As a lock is to a key
To walk outside your presence
Is like a bird that has no wings
This bird that cannot fly
Is the bird that cannot sing
When we have left our first love
Then we stand outside the door
When this lion opens up its mouth
This lion finds it cannot roar
To dwell in any other place
Than deep within His heart
Is to stand upon the platform
And watch the train depart
Oh Lord we find our place in you
As the bird soars in the sky
If our place is not in you
Then we must surely die
Can a fish live out of water?
Can the wingless bird begin to fly?
Could a flower bloom in perpetual darkness?
Or would the flower surely die?
You are the wings that give us flight
You are the Sun that ends the night
You are the waters of the deep
You are the harvest that we reap
I am your exceeding great reward
Seek me with all your heart
Dwell with Me, your King, your Lord
And we shall never be apart
poem by Frank McEleny
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Shore Leave Ornithology
Slacks, coffee trend
I could have been in the us navy
Flapping grey, coffee smoke
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Where the hell were you?
Rough stencil, print music
Cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard coffee
Saxophone mention barbers, n.y.
The cigarette was burning, the flat shoes
Stool
Bongo, coffee, don't mention that black man
The leather-coat was his
Where was she?
Could have been in the us navy
Flow beating air, table-top, shoulder slung
Shore leave, no sailors here
Cardboard, cardboard, cardboard, cardboard
Liquor slacks twisting
The cigarette was burning
The flat shoes, the flat shoes, the flat shoes
Bird, bird, bird, bird
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird
Bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird, bird
I could have been in another nineteen-fifty
Bird, bird, bird
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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on IMitation (will that anger you?)
L'imitazione del male supera sempre l'esempio; comme per il contrario, l'imitazione del bene e sempre inferiore.]
Respicere exemplar
vitae morumque jubebo
Doctum imitatorem,
et veras hinc ducere voces.
Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari,
lule ceratis ope Daedalea Nititur pennis,
vitreo daturus Nomina ponto.
Dociles imitandis Turpibus ac pravis omnes sumus
C'est un betail servile et sot a mon avis Que les imitateurs.]
Der Mensch ist ein nachahmendes Geschopf.
Und wer Vorderste ist, fuhrt die Heerde.
Paradoxically though it may seem,
it is none the less true
that life imitates art far more
than art imitates life.
Imitation is suicide.
One who imitates what is bad always goes beyond his model; while one who imitates what is good always comes up short of it.
No man ever yet became great by imitation.
Everything that irritates us about others can lead us
to an understanding of ourselves.
Most people are other people.
Their thoughts are someone else's opinions,
their lives a mimicry,
their passions a quotation.
Those who do not want to imitate anything,
produce nothing.
To be as good as our fathers we must be better,
imitation is not discipleship
Insist on yourself; never imitate.
Posterity weaves no garlands for imitators.
Imitation, if noble and general,
insures the best hope of originality.
And now, weigh the pros and cons
why have i imitated you
and you imitating me
the great writers
above speak beforehand before us
and i have not heard ever
one of them complaining
or angry
perhaps
they are not to shortsighted
insecure
and shallow and short-tempered
precisely, they are great.
and here's the last saying for the day:
Imitation is the sincerest flattery.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Matter Of Decision
the black bird of loneliness
hovers over the window of the house
and stops to look at
our roof
we shoo it away
there is no place here
where it can build its own nest
we still wait for the bird of bounty
the one that brings us
the eggs of grace
the feathers of happiness
it is the only bird that we welcome here
as a matter of our own decision
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bird's Wish
The bird asks me
What I’d do
If I am a bird.
I tell him
High and high I’d soar
So high that I’d see the earth no more
I’d be a bird on the tree
I’d be a bird that’s free!
What you’d do bird
If you’re a man?
To be fair
It’d be my only prayer to God
Don’t be so hard
Make me once again a bird!
Saying this the bird sings
And spreads its wings to a sky
I can never fly!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mocking Bird
Mocking bird,
I am now in Washington DC!
But the bomb dropped and i was able to escape.
Mocking bird,
My silver plate is with you;
So do take care of it.
Mocking bird,
Flowing with the feelings of love and the vibes of your muse;
But do watxch out before you are knocked down!
And try to fly away to a safer place.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Name this bird
Name this bird
If you are.
If you wish
Go there.
Geography
I do not like.
History
This bird
is not feathery.
See the word
Search the bird.
The bird I saw
Above the rulrs
Above the law.
If you wish
Go and tell
But please
Do not say
The bird is in sleep
And not here to clip.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unfinished requiem
A bird is flying,
But I see only the flight in itself,
The movement.
I close my eyes and I can touch it,
I close my eyes and I can feel it.
The sound of motion hurts my ear.
It is a movement in itself,
And inside of me,
It is like a scream.
Someone shoots
The wing of the bird,
And I feel the movement of the air,
Generated by the falling bird.
I understand, in a second,
My love for you.
It is a relic of a feeling,
Slipped into that place from where the white bird
Collapsed,
Like the soul from the moment to eternity.
My thinking with your name on it
Remains, seemingly, attached to that place,
As a red stain on the blue sky,
Which needs to become white
Between the eyelids,
Only pain can be continuously crushed
And transformed into tears.
Between the saints,
Only God gathers perfect feelings,
Our feelings,
That makes us capable to reach Him.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Place
(mel larson/jerry marcellino/hal davis)
This is my place
And I wanna share it with you
I got myself a place to dream
I touch the wind
Caress the sea
And I want you there
To hold me
To love me there is to know me
Where the silver bird of tomorrow
Will fly away with the sorrow
And time wont pass for you and i
Well be standing still
As the world goes by
This is my place
And I wanna share it with you
Ive got the sky to shelter me
And like the tide Im moving free
Ive waited here for you only
We will walk along
Never lonely
This is my retreat, were together
And my place is now even better
My lifes reflected on the sand
And it shows my love
When I touch your hand
This is my place
And I wanna share it with you
I wanna share, I wanna share it with you
This is my place
And you know wherever your place is
Loving only makes it better
And I want you there to hold me
To love me there is to know me
Where the silver bird of tomorrow
Will fly away with the sorrow
And time wont pass for you and i
Well be standing still
As the world goes round
This is my place
This is my place
This is my place
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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