The chief's wisdom is a mesh of old stories, good and bad.
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To step aside
that children
have never desisted to play at
even good weather
menacing its life
they remain to play at
with the gladness; joy
childhood
while mother
silent mesh
nets mesh
fish
what do not willing
to step aside.
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Well, religion has been passed down through the years by stories people tell around the campfire. Stories about God, stories about love. Stories about good spirits and evil spirits.
quote by Andrew Greeley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money Ain’t God
Money is not God,
Albeit good health and great wealth
Will put a commoner in the position to afford
The most luxurious amenities on earth.
God is wealth;
Good health
Is the richest gift
That can be bestowed on a chief.
Money is like a gaud;
It is a fraud
To think that money is God.
A King or a Queen, without good health,
Is sinking at the bottom;
He or she is dead, indeed worthless.
A penniless pauper, with great health,
Is wealthier than one can fathom;
He or she is darn blessed.
God is wealth;
God is health;
Money ain’t God;
Money ain’t God.
Good health and great wealth
Are like divine gifts;
Adding a little wisdom and a good heart,
Such combo will put a cherub on a celestial lift,
Where life is wonderful and set apart.
God is wealth;
Good health
Is the richest gift
That can be bestowed on a chief.
Money is like a gaud,
It is a fraud
To think that money is God.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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A Cheaper Form Of Writing Poetry Seems!
Articles, novels and short stories are highly awarded;
Nobel Prize, Pulitzer Prize and Booker prize go to them!
For poetry writings no such high prizes are awarded yet.
Is poetry a meaner form of writing compared to stories?
Fact fused fiction are appreciated as serious kind of novels;
Realism blended romantic stories are highly liked by many.
Poetry is a product of imagination, expression of emotion!
Mere fun without any utility serves no social purpose good.
Poetic philosophy of life and Nature has great value for all!
Wisdom, truth, seriousness, amusement and beauty enrich
Poetry of high value rare to be found in the poetic ocean!
If award is constituted for high philosophic poetry it’s good.
The final abode of all dissatisfied souls seems to be poetry!
Rich experience of all fields poetry blends to give satisfaction;
But many indulge in poetry writing for amusement fast now.
Only pleasure and wisdom make poetry a crown of literature!
poem by Ramesh T A
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A Mesh
A Mesh
Over the loathsome lying culture,
I see a hovering leading vulture,
Came from the distant alien land,
Each bony joint to apart, disband,
And eat the last remains of flesh,
Under the false pretentious mesh,
Of terrorism.
poem by Shahida Latif
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Stories We Could Tell
By: john b. sebastian
1974
Talkin to myself again
Wonderin if this travellin is good
Is there somethin else a doin
Wed be doin if we could
Chorus:
But ah, the stories we could tell
And if it all blows up and goes to hell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Listen to the stories we could tell
Stared at that guitar in that museum in tennessee
Nameplate on the glass brought back twenty melodies
Scars upon the face told of all the times he fell
Singin all the stories he could tell
Chorus:
Ah, the stories he could tell
And Ill bet you it still rings like a bell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
And listen to the stories it could tell
So if youre on the road trackin down your every night
Playin for a livin beneath brightly colored lights
And if you ever wonder why you ride the carousel
You do it for the stories you can tell
Ah, the stories we could tell
And if it all blows up and goes to hell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Just listen to the stories we could tell
Coda:
Yes, I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Listen to the stories it could tell
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stories
Through every window, we look out
what we see on the other side
holds many stories waiting to unfold.
Stories of great achievements
within someone’s life.
Stories of gathering love
found with in open arms.
Stories of perusing heartaches
where someone has gone away.
Stories a million fold
that surround every living thing.
Stories we are not aware of,
but happen before our eyes.
Stories to share with all
from those who can see them unfold.
The next time you look out a window
try and see what is really there,
the stories that are everywhere.
26 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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Why Is The House Burning Down?
Why is the house burning down?
Do you care to repeat that?
'Sure.
No problem.
When the fire chief arrived,
The occupants assumed he was not qualified.
Based upon his
Well,
The obvious.
So,
They said they would wait
Until a new chief is appointed.'
Wait for what?
The house is ruined
Totally destroyed
What 'new' chief?
He 'is' the chief
'Sir?
If you wish to
'Approach' them with that explanation
Perhaps you can convince them of that
The told me, the others 'and' the chief
They were entitled to have their expectations met.
And
If they have to stand there for the rest of their lives
They will do it.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stories We Could Tell
Talkin to myself again
Wondering if this travelin is good
Is there something better wed be doing if we could
And oh the stories we could tell
And if this all blows up and goes to hell
I can still see us sittin on the bed in some motel
Listenin to the stories we could tell
Remember that guitar in a museum in tennessee
And the nameplate on the glass brought back twenty melodies
And the scratches on the face
Told of all the times he fell
Singin every story he could tell
And oh the stories it could tell
And I bet you it still rings like a bell
And I wish we could sit back on the bed in some motel
And listen to the stories we could tell
So if youre on the road tracking down here every night
And youre singin for a livin neath the brightly colored lights
And if you ever wonder why you ride this carousel
You did it for the stories you could tell
And oh the stories we could tell
And if this all blows up and goes to hell
I can still see us sittin on the bed in some motel
Listenin to the stories we could tell
I can still see us sittin on the bed in some motel
Listenin to the stories we could tell
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Books
Good Books, Good Rhymes,
Good Stories, Good Times,
Good Beginings, Good Ends,
Good Tragic. Good Trends.
Good Fiction, Good Facts,
Good Adventures, Good Acts,
Good Characters, Good Thoughts,
Good Sense Of Humor, Good Soughts.
This Is Our Good Friends,
Which Have No Demand, No Complaints.
It Is Read By All Over-
From President To Cooks.
Really It Is Our
GOOD BOOKS………..
poem by Kaushal Saboo
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Stories
Every year has its own stories in this life,
Every month has its own stories in this life,
Every week has its own stories in this life,
Every day has its own stories in this life,
Every hour has its own stories in this life,
Every minute has its own stories in this life,
And like the muse of the mind as we grow up;
So, we are all with stories to tell in this world.
As white as snow,
As red as blood,
As balck as charcoal,
As green as the grass,
As blue as the sky;
But everybody has stories to tell in this world!
And like the muse o love in the land of beauty,
For each year has its own story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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There are only really a few stories to tell in the end, and betrayal and the failure of love is one of those good stories to tell.
quote by Sean Lennon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is important to tell good stories. You can tell stories even if they are not huge, epic, and wonderful. You can still take the responsibility for being a scribe of your tribe.
quote by Ajay Naidu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good stories flow like honey. Bad stories stick in the craw. A bad story? One that cannot be absorbed on the first time of reading.
quote by Arthur Christiansen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stories
when we were young stories were told
That I'd kiss you sweet like
People said there was a connection between us
Now that we're old stories are told
Of how I hold you tight
Whenever I see those people I tell them they were right
Stories will be told
From when our children are young
until they're old
About our endless love
We must have had a blessing from above
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Until the sun won't rise
Oh
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Most politicians - those people who live, eat and breathe politics - like to sit around and talk about politics and tell political war stories. Reagan didn't do that. His war stories were movie war stories and Hollywood war stories. He loved that.
quote by Lyn Nofziger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Stories
some stories
about ourselves
are also the stories of
themselves
and then we write
these stories and
pretend that these are
but some short stories
from our mind
now in different names
and places
we read them and then
we wish that some of
these short stories
are not true at all
sometimes for those
we want to be
we want to believe
them to be true
wishes and hopes and
regrets, what if? what if i
chose that rather than this?
we poets write about pain
and joys and we tell sometimes
that we only fake them
deep inside we are silent
we prefer just to be left alone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You see, I was told stories, we were all told stories as kids in Nigeria. We had to tell stories that would keep one another interested, and you weren't allowed to tell stories that everybody else knew. You had to dream up new ones.
Good people are good because they've come to wisdom through failure. We get very little wisdom from success, you know.
quote by William Saroyan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Father cuts a Furrow
My father cuts a furrow, true lines does he run,
My father cuts a furrow, no horses did he have,
My father cuts a furrow no fields, hills of grass,
My fathers furrows were wisdom,
This is what he had.
To his dying day his gait was straight and true,
My father was not a farmer, for the city,
All he knew.
As father cut his furrow, so does hit son, I am told,
The wisdom my Father passed on to lay dormant,
Many years, put on hold, not until the age of 78 did
I realize, not much time left, as I too was growing old,
So I write my poetry from my fathers wisdom,
That was willed to me, only way to have my stories told.
As father cut his furrow, so does his son, to pass
The wisdom, that was left from father,
God Bless his soul.
poem by Charles Garcia
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