It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect. The more perfect we are, the more gentle and quiet we become toward the defects of others.
quote by François Fénelon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect. The more perfect we are the more gentle and quiet we become towards the defects of others.
quote by Joseph Addison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tempered Perfection
It was God's greatest gift
'Imperfection'
something God does lack
But in his image
we stand
imperfect
and in the
'unification'
of the perfect
and the imperfect
'tempered Perfection
poem by Midnights Voice
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Who Hurts Whom?
Hurt, is that lesson of life,
Perfect pool of Imperfects,
A kid may get hurt
Or may hurt its parents too
its parents may hurt
Or may hurt their kid too,
A brother may get hurt,
or he may hurt brothers and sisters too,
Sister gets hurt
Or she may hurt her brothers and sisters too,
Mother gets hurt or she my may hurt father too.
Father may get hurt Or may hurt mother too,
A friend gets hurt
Or may hurt his friend too!
A lover get hurts, or may hurt one's lover too,
Teacher may gets hurt
Or may hurt student too
Student gets hurt Or he may hurt his teacher too,
Life is a pool of Imperfects
And only Imperfects can perfect life,
And life is that greatest class room,
Where the greatest and perfect teacher teaches perfect lessons,
But life when teaches, we just close the chapter,
'saying it is our fate! '
Is it true that one has to hurt others to make his living?
Living a life, and make a Living aren't the differ?
People are determined to build life than live a life,
Where one may hurt others,
This the story of Buddha asking kisa Gouthami ' I will save your child, but bring handful of mustard from a home where death not entered! '
This is the story,
'I will heal your hurts, if you can bring some dust of a man's feet, whoever neither got hurt nor hurt others! '
Life a that teaches and hurt is that lesson,
Which shows the one who hurts is Imperfect than who gets hurt,
Both are still imperfect,
The one got hurt is more imperfect,
And he is the one who hurts himself,
by his desires and expectations,
He is the one who gives chance to others to hurt,
With his misunderstandings!
Hurt is the result of our own imperfection say those have seen and understood life in perfect!
God is that only perfect and he is out of life cycle,
And He can only be healer of all hurts!
Perfection can make us hurt free, but imperfection is the life,
Those who ant life let them adjust themself with imperfection of own first and with that of others,
What you say, is it perfect or imperfect? You please, decide and tell me!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Perfect Blame
If I write the perfect poem
then my creation
mocks me
because it is perfect
and I know I am not.
The imperfect poem
is better for me
yet perfection
haunts
and I continue to strive
for its outlines
even as I concede
imperfection's continence
is more like me.
It may be I have to concede
that I and all of us are perfect
as we are inside
but once perfection moves outside my skin
the world taints it
with its imperfections
and I have to take the blame.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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My Love Is Not Perfect
My love is not perfect.
It does not flawlessly sail the seven seas
It clears no mount in single bound
No epic stuff this
My love is not perfect.
Threats may not be seen
Predators may be invited unwittingly
My love is not perfect.
It is often blind to dangerous flaws
It can be the staircase of a catastrophic fall
My love is not perfect.
It can hurt unknowingly
And injure me fatally
Yet this imperfect love
Brings forth my best 'me'
Without this love
I could not be.
This imperfect love is strength
For imperfect me.
8/9/2009
poem by Claude H Oliver II
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Imperfections, Imperfection
Imperfections
Imperfection
Separating us all from
Perfection
Imperfections
Imperf ection
I'll never be perfect
Neither will you
Imperfections
Imperfection
You can't change everything
About the way you look
Imperfections
Imperfection
You can't change everything
About your personality
Imperfections
Imperfection
But, you can work on those things
Change little things
Instead of worrying about all the things
Imperfections
Imperfection
Never completely gone
It's what makes us human
poem by Autumn Winds
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State Of Our Souls
The state of my soul
is my problem
the state of your soul
is your problem
why judge in states
of isolated imperfection
the states of our souls
are individual journeys
life holds your challenge lessons
to teach your imperfect soul
life holds my demanding lessons
to teach philosophical lessons universal
imperfection is price of entrance
into this world of testing sorrows
imperfection is imbalance of disharmony
allowing hardships to teach lessons
no soul can learn refining lessons
in a garden of happiness
no soul can endure perfect creation
until emotive dross is burned purity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Typographical Errors
Typographical errors,
I try to avoid.
Some I leave,
To create their own noise.
And something suspected,
To be out of place...
Usually gets more attention,
Than something correct...
One wishes to say.
And there are times it takes me,
All day to imperfect what is correct.
Especially if I want to emphasize,
My own perfection has defects.
I know! I know, that's hard to believe...
That I would take 'all' day to imperfect what is correct.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Imperfectly
Can I help it if Im not neat
If there were creeps before you
How can I help you if I am weak?
If I dont know how to help me
But I love you, I love you
Imperfect, imperfect, imperfectly
I love you imperfect, imperfect, imperfectly
Can I help it if Im high strung
If I was born with a sharp tongue
Will you marry me if I stay sweet?
If I am the one with the cold feet
I love you, I love you
Imperfect, imperfect, imperfectly
I love you imperfect, imperfect imperfectly
I love you imperfect, imperfect, imperfectly
Imperfectly, imperfectly, imperfectly, imperfectly
Imperfectly, imperfectly, imperfectly
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passing of time
The passing of time through the changing pattern of our thought
Is like a fish passing water over its gills,
Or like a cosmic engine
And not unlike the stream of light passing through pictures
It is leading to our irreversible changing,
It is triggering our memories,
Those emotions that are often evoked
When hearing a piece of music from our past.
The time is perfect..
Present perfect, past perfect, future perfect...
Every time we understand more about ourselves
We are going through an invisible portal
In our awareness.
And every time we think about our awareness
We understand that our cages are within,
Created by fear and the walls we
Have built around our heart.
It is our imperfection the place where our story lives..
We pretend to be perfect, but we hurt each other and
We fail to live up to our own standards...
We are so imperfect and have so much love of ourselves..
Maybe this is why we need to create those perfect moments
For glorious memories,
Resisting the passing of time through the changing pattern of our thought...
Maybe this is why our time together is so precious...
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
8 March 2010.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Decline of Day
Gentle breeze,
swaying trees
leaves
golden-green.
Imperfect sphere
sliding through day’s
perfect, blue air.
Ascends the moon
stark and silver
much too soon.
poem by Steven Federle
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A Perfect of One
So if this kiss
I mean to kiss
happens and it
runs amiss
and you or I
suffer disappointment
will we forever eschew
the kissing
and its sweet intents
because we sought
that which was more perfect
than either of
us?
That I guess would be silly.
But how sweet is the love
held in our breasts
how wonderful is the kiss never made
how perfect the kiss before the touch of lips
gentle touch;
and the kiss is done;
it may or may not be the perfect gem
the before-kiss was.
Ah, life so often
interrupts my dreams
and forces me to love
me imperfectly
and you as well.
No, imperfect is not the word;
perhaps it is better seen
as the union of our two worlds
which by definition means me
and not me coming together
bringing home the point
that can perfection mate
when I am the only one in the portrait,
and a perfect of one;
which is not really
perfection at all;
or is that really
only the Perfection
of Alone?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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How the Light's let In (An imperfect poem)
Everything lacks perfection
In the smallest particle there’s a flaw
Imperfection is our protection
Imperfection’s an immutable law
There’s a tiny crack in everything
But tis how the light’s let in
There exists no perfect circle
An impossibility, a linear line
Nor persists a faultless square
Nor a truly enlightened mind
Yet.. There’s a tiny crack in everything
And tis how the light’s let in
There’s no such thing as perfection
There’s no such condition as ‘just right’
No such thing as exact recollection
No such thing as ‘perfect sight’
there’s a tiny crack in everything
No matter how wide or thin
It’s the flaw that keeps the dark without
And tis how the light’s let in
poem by David Whalen
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Ramdas Choi Chang Poems 2
Isn't it perfect to think everyone is perfect,
Everyone is perfectly fit
to their own place!
The Great Engineer know which spare can fit,
How to fit
where to fit,
that perfect Engineer perfectly fits everything to His own purpose!
Poem2
Whoever we meet, may not be perfect,
Who ever is perfect,
We may never meet,
Life is that strange thing,
Only imperfect can fit into it,
Whether may it be one or any one around!
Poem3
A flower that looks perfect,
Insects surround it and spoil it,
Below that the frogs wait,
And snake can safely find its food there,
Even the eagle has an eye on perfect flower,
Where it can get some thing to eat!
So, is the story of perfected saint,
Some come to him for their own purpose,
Some start service and service turns to business,
And a saint can be food for thought,
Or he may be source or inspiration to worldly man's business!
Poem4
Men wants to praise,
Woman wants to be praised,
so many write on love,
But no one yet met one's perfect love,
As perfect love is that warmth,
All are dolls made of ice,
And can only melt and flow into lap of love!
Poem5
Nothing is perfect,
No one is perfect,
Everyone can be perfect,
until one continues with a perfect thought that he himself only is imperfect,
As perfection is aim and only aim of all!
Poem6
Infinite particles infinite space,
Infinite time,
and infinite
Thoughts,
I can't find the infinite any where than in me,
When that ant climb on my legs,
Ant came to may ears and said, 'on the tip of my legs infinite bacteria lies '
Bacteria about virus and so on..
I learnt that every thing is relativistic,
Even me and my death are close relatives!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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My parents did not have a perfect marriage. It was pretty good, but it was not perfect. My marriage is not perfect. My wife is, but I happen to be imperfect. However, that does not discount the fact that the definition of marriage must be defended and protected.
quote by Stockwell Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Have Written Too Many Imperfect Poems
I HAVE WRITTEN TOO MANY IMPERFECT POEMS
I have written too many imperfect poems
This is another one.
Years have gone by,
Where are the perfect poems?
A handful of true poems
And the poet does not die.
Where are mine?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dreaming the Perfect Imperfect Dream
She said:
'I have made you up
and now I believe in you more
than my reality
and my dependence is complete
and perfect
because
you are my perfect creature
and now all around me
seems dull
real people seem
to be without your luster.
I can dream you
but I cannot live with you
marry you,
nor can I marry
those real
pale reflections of you.
So I am stuck and I have no one
to talk to about this but you.
But what ever you say will be perfect
because I have made you in my mind
to say only the things
which make perfect sense to me.
I'm captured by my own dream-you
and unable to un-dream you and seek
imperfection as a substitute.
He said:
I am only a dream without desires
and mind
except that which you impart
and this makes me feel powerless
and even as your perfect dream
I am sad
because I am not my own perfect self
but merely yours-something I sense you sense
since you labor to re-dream me often
severing me from my own attempt to create
a more perfect me
in lieu of a more perfect you invent.
I am dream and dreams dilemma.
We both are now perfect partners
in the conundrum
seeking to eek
out some solution
which does not shatter our dreams
upon which we both now have come to depend.
Ah, but just one last time
can your dream kiss mine?
That only seems fair.
doesn't it.?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Sonnet- No Man Is Perfect
Which man, a perfect Being, calls himself?
When imperfect, the world seems naturally;
And more so when he is after more pelf;
And labels others, 'imperfect' freely.
All men are deficient in many ways,
Yet, point their fingers to the ones around;
They try to mask their own unsteady base;
Superior ones, they even try to hound.
But talents are God-given gifts to men;
In quantities, differing 'midst earthlings;
To -develop them, depends on our own ken;
None prevents you from wearing many rings.
Why blame others when you are blameworthy?
Why jealous be, when you are more ‘filthy’?
poem by John Celes
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Perfect
There's a really pretty girl I know,
Twas talking with her not too long ago.
Now she's seems quiet as can be;
But today she really startled me.
She actually talked quite a bit
And apparently her nose was too big!
Now I've read before that there's things,
That we'd change if we had one magic wish.
I'd personally like to be taller and thinner
With not such a wide grin.
But it got me think ‘bout how we see ourself,
And how I see myself.
I realise now that God made me unique.
He made me, then he broke that mold quick.
I began to realise that often others see
A different side of me:
Cause what I saw was a beautiful girl
With no other match in the world.
What she saw was imperfection,
But I could only see perfection.
I saw the beauty, she saw scars.
Perhaps that's just the way we are.
So I wanted to take the time to share,
Something special and rare.
Twill always be more room to grow-
To be something better than you now know.
But you were made just right,
By Someone who watches o'er you day and night.
So I thought I'd let you know right now,
You're perfect the way you are:
Every blemish n' every scar.
Perfect the way you are.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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To Be Candid With You....
everyone is looking for
that secret garden
with a fountain or spring
where eternal youth can
be taken
everyone is finding a clue
to that perfect hue
something to subdue, and only for the few
that perfect chew
everyone wants to write
the perfect rhyme of a poem
that gluttony of fame
the avarice of shame
today, i take courage in
facing everyone
to tell them
candidly, that there is no such thing
as a secret garden
or that eternal youth of fountain or spring
nothing about a perfect clue to
a perfect hue,
no such thing as a perfect chew
no such thing too as a perfect poem
with that perfect rhyme
there is only you,
always searching,
the imperfect one, always looking for something
that is not you
that is not here
you are you,
you are not perfect
you get old,
and then you die and
then you're gone
that is the truth,
and there is no other.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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