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No poet will ever take the written word as a substitute for the spoken word; he knows that it is on the spoken word, and the spoken word only, that his art is founded.
quote by Lascelles Abercrombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
The very last word spoken
The last word spoken
was said in a whisper,
as if it wasn't meant at all
but it was the final word
that she ever spoke to me.
But she's gone now
so the word was meant
that final word spoken
said so quietly to me
maybe she didn't want to say it,
that's why it was whispered
but the word was goodbye.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Believe A Word
Dont believe me if I tell you
Not a word of this is true
Dont believe me if I tell you
Especially if I tell you that Im in love with you
Dont believe me if I tell you
That I wrote this song for you
There might be some other silly pretty girl
Im singing it to
Dont believe a word
For words are only spoken
Your heart is like a promise
Made to be broken
Dont believe a word
Words can tell lies
And lies are no comfort
When theres tear in your eyes
Dont believe me if I tell you
Not a word of this is true
Dont believe me if I tell you
Especially if I tell you that Im in love with you
Dont believe a word
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Farewell
(words & music by roger whittaker - r.a. webster)
Theres a ship lies rigged and ready in the harbor
Tomorrow for old england she sails
Far away from your land of endless sunshine
To my land full of rainy skies and gales
And I shall be aboard that ship tomorrow
Though my heart is full of tears at this farewell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
Ive heard theres a wicked war a-blazing
And the taste of war I know so very well
Even now I see the foreign flag a-raising
Their guns on fire as we sail into hell
I have no fear of death, it brings no sorrow
But how bitter will be this last farewell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
Though death and darkness gather all about me
My ship be torn apart upon the seas
I shall smell again the fragrance of these islands
And the heaving waves that brought me once to thee
And should I return home safe again to england
I shall watch the english mist roll through the dale
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eloquence Of Truth
Coming from our experience,
Made of uniqueness,
Truth is the mankind option,
Seeking the truth is a matter of life.
Spoken words are coming to our lives,
Touching us with the essence or the poisson of the content,
After each true word or lie we've hear,
We get sensitized in our hearts and never same again.
Each word will have in us a tremenduous echo,
Each word will make us happy or sad,
True words or lies are part from our existence,
But the most important is the eloquence of truth.
poem by Cristina Teodor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dingley And Brent
Dingley and Brent,
Wherever they went,
Ne'er minded a word that was spoken;
Whatever was said,
They ne'er troubled their head,
But laugh'd at their own silly joking.
Should Solomon wise
In majesty rise,
And show them his wit and his learning;
They never would hear,
But turn the deaf ear,
As a matter they had no concern in.
You tell a good jest,
And please all the rest;
Comes Dingley, and asks you, what was it?
And, curious to know,
Away she will go
To seek an old rag in the closet.
poem by Jonathan Swift
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Is A Little Word
Love is a little word,
but it fills the world with happiness
when it is spoken from the heart.
It coveys a feeling of joy
of being close to someone.
Sometimes it is not spoken
in audible words,
but in gestures between two
who have so much feelings for one another.
It is never about
how small the word,
but the feelings it conveys.
4 May 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
So many words are there in our speech,
they can be very poor, they can be rich.
No one can be indifferent to their meaning
as they are alive and express your feeling.
Spoken word is not just a sound,
it can’t be found on the ground,
it’s always in your head, sometimes in your soul.
When it is spoken it becomes a parole.
A word is an energy of your spirit,
it was presented to you by God, it’s His merit.
A word is a tool of communication,
A word is a source of information.
“A word spoken is past recalling”.
Strolling all around it can’t be found,
returned back and kept in your sack.
“The pen is mightier than the sword”,
that was told about a written word.
Words, words, words………………
They are love and seduction,
each one with a certain function.
They are wonders of sin
and songs of education.
They are salvation, temptation, affectation…
They can be an executioner,
they can be the owner of a whiner.
A word can be a treatment,
It helps when you are ill.
A kind word is better than a pill.
But…there are words that just kill.
They sound like a horrible drill.
Words, words, words…………
They are triumph and defeat,
They can be pleasant and sweet.
At the end of my message
I would like everyone to acknowledge:
Each word has a strength
and it doesn’t depend on its length.
So, think before saying a word,
as it is quite well heard even by walls,
it touches someone’s soul,
it shouldn’t be a wicked foul.
“Better the foot to slip than the tongue”.
And… there is no exception for the young.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Question Remains
When vile necessities
And confidence are shaken,
A compromise is forsaken
In the best of breeds...
How did I become this?
For you, there is no answer.
It is something I have sought
Until I found peace...
Let no interference
Persuade me against my wish,
The alibi-that exists,
Need not have a name...
Neither I should
Weigh too much on mine
For if I were a word,
I might come out and die...
Life, like a spoken word,
Will sometime perishes,
Spoken word transforming
Like a wish-never preserved...
Were I to discard
All vanities for a time
To know the depth of being
From the lower side? ...
Was it important
To experience the loss
Of something which has value
Sacrificed too fast?
The question still remains! ...
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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speaking Of Re-birth!
** SPEAKING OF RE-BIRTH!
Many a time it has been said, that despite my
prayers and fond wishes,
The soul must go through several re-births,
To absolve itself from all debts on this earth!
And those who committed acts of violence,
Must take re-birth to meet such an end!
It is indeed a reassuring and comforting thought,
That crime never goes unpunished in the eyes of
God!
Now what happens to all our courts of laws,
With hanging and life imprisonments galore? !
For the same offence you cannot punish a man
twice!
Do the advocates of ‘re-birth’ listen to such
advice?
Despite whatever has been said in re-birth’s
defense,
I have always prayed for Moksha without giving
offence!
My the Gods make my soul truly free, -
And if the soul must suffer re-birth, -
Well, let it not be me!
-Raj Nandy
03 Jun 09
New Delhi
(Though written in a lighter vein, many a true word
is spoken in a jest!)
Yourself
T‘is to yourself I speak; you cannot know
Him whom I call in speaking such a one,
For you beneath the earth lie buried low,
Which he, alone, as living walks upon.
You may at times have heard him speak to you,
And often wished perchance that you were he;
And I must ever wish that it were true,
For then you could hold fellowship with me:
But now you hear us talk as strangers, met
Above the room wherein you lie abed;
A word perhaps loud spoken you may get,
Or hear our feet when heavily they tread;
But he who speaks, or he who’s spoken to,
Must both remain as strangers still to you.
poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Know The Word of the Spirit Original 01 16 2011
TO KNOW THE WORD
OF THE SPIRIT:
Original 01 16 2011
To know the word as motive
Know that God speaks the nous
Between his will and knowledge
Prerogatives of vision and reason
To know the word as verbal
Know that God speaks transcendent
Nous -to know the word as noun
Know God speaks the tone of you
To know the word as poem read
To know the word as pronoun
Know that god does not speak
Of you god speaks to you
To know the word as adverb
Know that God does not speak
About you God speaks through you
To know the word as adjective
Know that God speaks by you
To know the word as preposition
Know God speaks from the heart
To know the word as poem write
To know the word is off the table
Know that God knows who sops
And all that was [was] forgiven
To know word as free verse
To know the word as parable
Know that God speaks nous
To know that God has spoken
Know pain and pleasure in spirit.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permissions.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Overheard In A Conservatory
HE (after a pause) : Dear, are you angry?
SHE: Yes, though not at you,
But at myself. Of course, we know it's true
That when a man respects a girl...
HE (interrupting) : I thought
You'd say that. It's the nonsense girls are taught.
You know, as well as I do, I revere
You more than any other woman, dear.
SHE (indignantly) : You'd not have done it to Elfrida Hood.
HE: Immortal gods! I shouldn't think I would.
SHE (haughtily) : If this but seems to you fit food for jest
I say no more. Silence were plainly best.
HE (very seriously) : Dear, if I jest, it is because I read
The hopelessness of aught that I could plead
In your stern eyes, which righteous wrath betray.
Were you another woman, I should say
That you were fair, and I, it seems, was mad,
But that the last long waltz that we had had :
Might very well have turned a wiser head.
A hundred things like this I might have said
To women who would take them as excuse.
You think none possible - so what's the use?
SHE: Then why discuss it further? Let us go.
HE: One minute! I should like you first to know
I did not think that this would be the end
When, two weeks since, you said you'd be my friend.
SHE (reflectively) : Only two weeks.
HE: Not long, 'tis true, and yet,
You've stopped my doing much I should regret.
Nor should I murmur that you teach how far
More hard than others all good women are.
SHE (emphatically) : That is not true, indeed it is not true.
Some men I could forgive this, but not you.
You would go home, and smile, and think I meant
I viewed it merely as a...
HE (politely) : Precedent!
Was that the word? Indeed, in this respect
You wrong, to say the least, my intellect.
If you forgave me, I should understand
Just what it meant. . .
SHE (hastily) : Oh, please let go my hand!
Here is papa, who comes, I know, to say
That it is late, and time to go away.
HE: I do not care a bit how late it is,
I only know we cannot part like this.
Show me, at least, you do not doubt my sorrow.
SHE (hesitatingly) : Well - come as usual at five to-morrow.
poem by Alice Duer Miller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whatever Was Spoken Was Already Spoken
whatever was spoken was already spoken
and in my state today, the words are no longer
retrievable, the car hears them through its mirror ears
and i know it understands every word.
it is silent and then it speeds away ashamed of its beginnings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vagabond
Dunno a heap about the what an' why,
Can't say's I ever knowed.
Heaven to me's a fair blue stretch of sky,
Earth's jest a dusty road.
Dunno the names o' things, nor what they are,
Can't say's I ever will.
Dunno about God - he's jest the noddin' star
Atop the windy hill.
Dunno about Life - it's jest a tramp alone,
From wakin'-time to doss.
Dunno about Death - it's jest a quiet stone
All over-grey wi' moss.
An' why I live, an' why the old world spins,
Are things I never knowed.
My mark's the gypsy fires, the lonely inns,
An' jest the dusty road.
poem by John Masefield (1902)
Submitted by anonym
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The Word
Find the word, understand the word,
Depend on the word;
The word is heaven and space, the word the earth,
The word the universe.
The word is in our ears, the word is on our tongues,
The word the idol.
The word is the holy book, the word is harmony,
The word is music.
The word is magic, the word the Guru.
The word is the body, the word is the spirit, the word is being,
The word Not-being.
The word is man, the word is woman,
The Worshipped Great.
The word is the seen and unseen, the word is the existent
And the non-existent.
Know the word, says Kabir,
The word is All-powerful.
One plus one
One plus one
is two
always not true.
Word plus word
is sentence
always not true.
You and I
are friend
always not true.
I am going
and going and
not here not true.
Look at me
I am like you
It is true.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And since I am but a word for you
You said it
You love me
As a word and nothing more
But just a word
Without a stand
Just a word
Unable to make
Your love come true
In the form of
Body and sweat
In the shape of a kiss
in the substance
of a hug
or an embrace
I admit it
I am just a word
And I am deleting
This word
Myself
You follow
the time is 11: 52 in the evening
and you are not sleeping
like me
us is also a word.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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