It would be a huge book that contained all the may be said in a day.
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Cobblestones
The coffin, set up as coffins always are, near the grave, contained the father. The sentence, set up as sentences always are, on the page, contained the words. The meat package, set up as meat packages always are, with cellophane covering, contained the chops. The synagogue, set up as synagogues always are, for people, contained the rabbi. The classroom, set up as classrooms always are, for chairs, contained the professor. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, beside the grave, contained the mother. The word, set up as words always are, beyond hearing, contained the syllables. The prose, set up as prose always is, in census-rectangles, contained the phenomena. The nation, set up as nations always are, in questionnaire rooms, contained the sworn. The can, set up as cans always are, with ornate paper covers, contained the chicken o’noodle soup, with the circular noodles. Abacus, guitar, and quipu, set up as abacus, guitar and quipu always are, hieratically on notional strings, contained tobacco’s troubadours. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, next to the grave, contained the sister. The elegy, set up as elegies always are, dishonestly, contained the family. The steak, set up as steaks always are, artificially reddened, contained the fat. The rectangular venetian blinds, set up as rectangular venetian blinds always are, in the windowframe, contained the slats. The DNA, set up as DNA always is, in double helixes, contained the and. The word people, set up as the word people always is, in writing, contained the o.
poem by Aaron Fogel
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Talking Book
I wish I had a talking book
That told me how to act and look
A talking book that contained keys
To past and present memories
A talking book that said your name
So if you were gone, youd still remain
More than a picture on a shelf
In imagination I could touch
A talking, talking book
I wish I had a talking book
Filled with buttons you could push
Containing looks and sights, your touch
Your feel, your breath, your sounds, your sighs
How much Id bluster to ask it why
One must live and one must die
I wish I had a talking book
By my side so I could look
And touch and feel and dream, a look
Much bigger than a talking book
A taste of loving future and past
Is that so much to really ask
In this one moments time and space
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love ever, forever be replaced
Can our love ever be replaced
Can our love ever be replaced
(can our love really be replaced)
By a talking book
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Each book, intuitively sensed and, in the case of fiction, intuitively worked out, stands on what has gone before, and grows out of it. I feel that at any stage of my literary career it could have been said that the last book contained all the others.
quote by V.S. Naipaul
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Book
I have found myself searching for a book in my father's attic.
A book that he meant to burn, but instead hid away.
On his deathbed he told me categorically to destroy it,
by burning each page come what may.
The book was a Greek translation from ancient Aramaic text,
which was discovered in eastern Turkey in 1886.
The goat herder that found it sold it for a few Turkish lira
to a Greek mountain climber and archaeologist.
In Athens he read it and told a learned friend about its contents,
his so called friend told someone else and so did he.
This inevitably led to the book being stolen and repeatedly sold,
until my father bought it from a French soldier in 1943.
As a young man my father studied ancient Greek at university
and soon realised what the book contained.
It was a powder keg of mind blowing revelations about the psyche,
its development and expansion were explained.
It detailed the mind control of others, mysticism, and the occult.
The practice of spiritual and angelic communication.
The transportation of the body to other dimensions,
and life's process of perpetuation.
My father read the book though didn't practice it's teachings,
he realised the enormous threats to life it contained.
But for many reasons he found its destruction impossible,
so it's fate with me remained.
poem by Orlando Belo
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It would be a very big book that contained all the maybes uttered in a day.
Poor Book
A book closes due to poor health,
The knowledge contained is wealth.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Poser
Driving through your home town
Coming from nowhere and heading to anywhere else
Singing songs that no one else knows
About a painting in the house of usher's ghost
Treading lightly over graves of those struck twice by lightning
Reading a book beyond understanding
About a profession practiced in ancient Persepolis
You're looking for Loki in the eyes of a road weary American
Trembling from sleepless dreaming
Found Gehenna in the shopping cart full of last night's pleasure
Busting at the seems from all the famous secrets that only you know
Obscure and arcane
Obscene and profane
The darkness within will not be contained
Unclean and insane
Impure and in pain
The darkness within will not be contained
poem by Eric Altman
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My Love (Do Not Ask Me)
Do not ask me, the name of my love
I fear for you, from the fragrance of perfume
contained in a bottle, if you smashed it,
drowning you, in spilled scent
By God, if you even croaked a letter,
Lilacs would pile up on the paths
Do not look for it here in my chest
I have left it to run with the sunset
You can see it in the laughter of doves
In the flutter of butterflies
In the ocean, in the breathing of dales
and in the song of every nightingale
in the tears of winter, when winter cries
in the giving of a generous cloud
Do not ask about his lips…as elegant as the sunset
And his eyes, a shore of purity
And his waist, the sway of a branch
Charms…which no book has contained
Nor described by a literate's feather
And his chest, his throat, enough for you
I won't breath his name, my lover…
poem by Nizar Qabbani
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I certainly wanted to write a book that was honest about New Orleans without explaining it to death, so much so that the first draft contained references absolutely incomprehensible to anyone who hasn't lived here for several years.
quote by Poppy Z. Brite
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our audience is all the girls who made Britney a huge star. Those are the girls who bought the book. I didn't read the book at first. I read the script just to see what I would think of the script and I really liked it.
quote by Virginia Madsen
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Why.............?
The American book of 'why',
The Asian book of 'why',
The European book of 'why',
The African book of 'why',
The Australian book of 'why',
The most asked question in the valley of world events;
Especially when one explodes a bomb!
The Christian book of 'why',
The Muslim book of 'why',
The Jewish book of 'why',
The Hindu book of 'why',
The Krishna book of 'why',
lLife is like the yeast which makes the bread rise;
But, the writer always has his or her own mind.
The Pagan book of 'why',
The Buddhist book of 'why',
The Protestant book of 'why',
The Confucian book of 'why',
To all life's aspects with the remaining books of 'why';
Poetry is the literature that muses with the mind.
Shall the trumpet be blown in the city and,
The people will not be afraid?
Seven bulls and seven rams,
I am the planted tree by the rivers of waters.
I am very young in years but,
The word 'why' is the question that goes around easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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It's a huge challenge, a huge responsibility. Bond is a huge iconic figure in movie history. These opportunities don't come along very often so I thought, 'Why not?'
quote by Daniel Craig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the symbolism that you gave to the poems of Pablo Neruda
your feet hangs on the sand
your body flat
the poems of Pablo are contained in a book
Five Decades of Poetry
on top of your belly just near the center of
your swimming trunks
wet and white
your navel is surrounded by masculine hair
and the book slides just below there
beside is a dark tainted glass
and a bottle of mineral water from Nature Springs
your feet are shaped like the wings of a dove
shielding you from the faint horizon of the sea quite far away
blue clouds faint like hues of sky blue
Half of your body without a face
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reading the poems of Billy Collins
When did you last turn the pages
of a book of poems as if it were a novel?
and how could a Poet Laureate ‘rejoice’-
as they say in flowery poetic language
in the name of Billy?
and it’s not so much reading
as being with: as if you’re in the same
room with him: he’s over there in the recliner,
self-contained but friendly; he may
say nothing; or make an inconsequent remark;
or launch into a fantasy; or say
something unpretentiously profound..
it doesn’t matter now. You’re in the same room
with him, just being.. he’s not making a poem
like you hold a glass up to the light
and polish it; he’s not even selling ‘being’
like some New Age guru; he’s not asking
anything of you.
And thousands who view poetry with suspicion
sigh with relief; take up his latest book
and glance at him there across the room
with a half-smile that somehow reflects his
just being Billy Collins. No, not even that;
just being.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A beautiful scenery of relation
The car is mine; I drive it; It runs; Am I not related with the car speed sitting inside when it runs? yes, the velocity of the car has enveloped me; The body of the car is my body; I must take care of me-car body so that it would not collide with other things on the road.
The speed is me-contained
The speed is car-contained
The car is powerless! It has no choice by itself; Just runs as I drive it; And it is me who stimulates the car but when it runs, it runs together with me; At that time the speed of the car and the speed of mine is one dynamism.
My car is running on the road of the Earth;
The Earth has a velocity; It is running with all phenomenon it has
The speed of the Earth is me-contained, and car-contained too.
What a nice scenery! I am strung with all phenomenon here on the Earth! I am separated but joined, I am enclosed with nature but freed; I am related with all dynamism!
poem by Sarwar Chowdhury
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The Best Book In The World
the best book
in the world
the only true book
is the world itself
the Book of Nature
the best book is the silence
the wordless-ness in
the clouds and the sky
and the rivers and the oceans
and the lands
and the grass that breaks through the concrete;
and in the deserts and the volcanoes
and the stars
and the moon
and the creatures of the earth
and in all fellow beings
and the vastness beyond
and the vastness within
the best book
the only true book
(every other book is distortion)
is the world itself
the Book of Nature:
read it
poem by Raj Arumugam
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Tribute to W.B.Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep
And nodding by the fireside. Take down this book
and slowly read and dream of the soft look.
Your eyes once had and of their shadows deep
William Butler Yeats 1865-1939
A tribute to W.B Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep
and conscious thoughts go in and out.
I am quite sure I have no doubt.
That memories will unbidden creep
And nodding by the fireside. Take down this book
a true record of all that’s been
Everything you’ve done and seen.
It is past time to take another look.
And slowly read and dream of the soft look
you used to see in your lovers eyes.
You are content because you realise.
There is contained within this book
Your eyes once had and of their shadow deep
Are still the same they have not changed.
Constant they have not been re-arranged
All of the memories you chose to keep.
31/08/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Book Of Guidance
Book of knowledge,
Book of truth,
The book of old,
Contains the youth,
This book has plenty,
On lies and deceit,
This reveals how to get up,
After every single defeat,
This book of love,
Tell the story,
Of the beauty's dove,
And Gods glory,
This book of life,
Is the way to live,
Be free be true,
Be pure all the way through,
Be trustworthy have honor,
Live long and prosper,
Please God and love your father,
Have fun and be one with your brother.
poem by Jordan Moore
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Now, to describe the process of the Wrapped Reichstag, which went from 1971 to '95, there is an entire book about that, because each one of our projects has its own book. The book is not an art book, meaning it's not written by an art historian.