The words of the world want to make sentences.
quote by Gaston Bachelard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Untitled 15
there is a mountain of words
an ocean of words
a continent of words
there is a rain of words
a flood of words
a river of words and true to their being words
they also disintegrate as syllables
on the other hand some form the clauses
conditions and terms
some make sentences and paragraphs
a world of words full of words
i am not a word and i am buried in a mountain of words
a sea of words i drown
a continent of words i am condemned to walk all the days of my life
too may words my ears do not listen anymore.
my eyes do not like to read anymore.
i like something not having to do with words.
what about a touch? what about a picture?
what about a kiss?
why don't people just make love without saying a word?
let us start touching the hearts of people
to avoid this war of words that lead us to our own perdition.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words Of Some Sort
The balancing action of a few words wraps us in sin,
Sin has a way of telling others the whole secret.
The embroidery so sudden enacts the religious view and worship,
A word or two carried new meaning to the select.
A balance of words means new phrases and more sentences,
Sentences cause us to seep in thinking, more than you.
Those words are plentiful for the soul, in effect,
The affectionate soul marries to the other soul.
My acts are numbered by the absence of fondness
For words that encase a comprehension of some sort.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts. This requires not that the writer make all his sentences short, or that he avoid all detail and treat his subjects only in outline, but that every word tell.
William Strunk, Jr in Elements of Style (1919)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Speech
Sentences are big, small as well,
Their tailors stupidly work
And the tools split when words are built.
The tools are a spirit, a well-being, a promise,
The tools benefit us in soothing ways.
The sentences become a speech for the royal kings,
They think overall that they own them,
Giving work and problems, saving us, living with danger.
The intelligence of a wish is that of writing
And poetry.
Words spell what we know,
They always now keep magic
That the king sows deep in the land.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words, Words, Words
We seem to define words so as to use them,
Conquering the speech of another person;
Just to be a speaker is even better for a person
Than to read or write and practise scholarship.
We meet words carefully chosen by them and combine
To form sentences that will be recognised,
Thus the attached meaning is passed on;
Prosperity is the objective, success is marvellous.
Scholars are thinking men, relaxed by books,
They do not only speak, but look at the messages
From the written word, learning godly works,
Escaping blunders, escaping our mockery.
We are with fine words, words capture us,
Your vocabulary depends on your cleverness and intelligence,
So concoct the perfect sentences,
Invent the same language that we speak.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Express Your Conundra
Breathe, call me, talk, speak, and yell
Express yourself, quit giving me hell
Whisper, hum, sing, complain
And shock me; your words will not sink in vain
Through the pipes of my ears
Tell me about it, talk to me about your fears
Teach me; inform me, converse with me
Please make my life easier and my nights easy.
You drive me crazy when you don’t express yourself
A world without words and signs is senseless
Describe the landscapes, the skies; do your best
Okay, you are free to begin your sentences with f
You can say it, express yourself, and talk to me
Mum the words, say something, anything
Use your tongue to beautify the hills and the sea
Blow me kisses in winter, summer and spring.
And never be afraid to make mistakes
Humans were born to err
And to have their situations corrected.
poem by Hebert Logerie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Word
If I make a word
it is first sculpted from letters
on the page
a canvass across which
letters skate
from margin to margin transforming
into meanings and sentences
which give us art, science, poetry
and civilization.
This is created from an arbitrary entity,
the scratchings we call letters
which in turn form yet another
mysterious entity we call the alphabet.
What manner of miracle is this?
All of civilization is born from
these scribbly scratchings?
So if each letter is an imaginary entity,
an arbitrary symbol we made up
which has no meaning by itself
and lives inside another arbitrary entity
we call the alphabet
we may properly ask
what is going on here?
Meaning here is deriving from an arbitrary nothingness
arbitrarily created from arbitrary letters
by virtue of common agreement around
what words will mean?
Ponder this:
we too, as individuals are letter unique
and, in our variety, form a kind of human alphabet.
What we all mean and can mean to each other
therefore depends upon the words we form
in our families and communities; our human alphabets.
So, one word letters such as 'I' are too self-regarding
and are narcissistic anomalies
not true words at all.
Better words have more syllables than that
and have enabled us to form social sentences
more complex
which we can use for good or ill
peace or war, love or hate.
So watch your words and sentences
don't swing them recklessly in a crowded room
you'll put somebody's mind out
or create genius.
Big responsibility this
especially for us poets.
So in the end
in mass society
you and I are a single letter
but combined create all there is.
You can take that
as the first
and last
Word
And by the way
arbitrary letters
are electrons at the sub-atomic level
and combine to make molecules
and the greatest meaning of all
All of the Universe.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inspiration..
Inspiration comes and goes.
I write it down or I’ll forget while searching for a pen.
Inspiration comes and goes.
I get is from dreams or experiences.
Inspiration comes and goes.
But tell me, what inspires you.
I’m inspired by beauty, love and lust.
Giving me words and thought I dare to trust.
It’s inspiration that separates me from the rest.
‘Cause when inspiration comes words fall into place.
And things are beginning to make sense.
Sometimes I’m inspired by sorrow.
When I’m waiting in my bed for tomorrow.
And words start to become sentences.
I will start to write just to understand.
And to make me feel better so I can go to bed again.
Sometimes I write because of a pain that runs so deep.
I write cryptic lyrics about the secrets I keep.
I express them in other words so no one will understand.
But they feel not knowing what I’m trying to tell.
It’s a just way to clear my conscience.
Sometimes I write how the world could be.
Or I write about the girl of my fantasy.
Then I’m inspired by a fragment of my imagination.
And now I told a few ways where I get my inspiration.
So now tell me what inspires you.
poem by Rick Adriolo
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As I work with my words as medium
I want to be profound
Deep, deeper than what i
Can possible swim
But I have seen
The limitations
Of words as medium
Of my thoughts
How can I put the
Color red
Of an apple
In words
Or the scent
Of lavender
In syllables
Here you are
Reading me
And I do not want
To disappoint
You, my reader
I want to create
A world of sensations
For such is the
World of poetry
I have long wanted
You to feel
My sadness in
Letters
My loneliness
In a single
Letter
This
i
Or...... ............................... me...................................
I want you to listen
To me
In the hush of the wind
In syllables
I want you to
Read my joys
In my phrases
Sometimes
I have given
You sentences
stanzas
I want you to
Be at home
With my words
But these are
Just words
And I must
Have failed
In bringing
Back to life
Your senses
Hopelessly
They have long
been dead
words, words, words,
And
Even this whole
Poem
Is not enough
Let me try
Again
On some
Coming
Illustrations
Birds falling
Their wings clipped
Leaves blown
Detached from
Their stems
Trees threatened
About the news
Of the coming storms
Oh I am so sorry
Your senses are sleeping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's weird when people start sentences with 'frankly' - as if their other sentences don't count.
quote by Doug Coupland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll agonize over sentences. Mostly because you're trying to create specific effects with sentences, and because there are a number of different voices in the book.
quote by Neil Gaiman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America has the longest prison sentences in the West, yet the only condition long sentences demonstrably cure is heterosexuality.
quote by Bruce Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writting
When i feel lost lonely and have nowhere to go,
the words keep me company and im a loner no more,
Letters come together in my minds free flowing from my
heart,
Two letters one letter many letters make up words,
Long words short word
bring up sentences that form up,
my concious wades throught them picking seeking to join
short and long and make it work,
No rules to my word play anything u want can stay a
concortion a work of art,
Am lost in emotions,
lost in expressions,
pronouns adjectives and nouns,
Lay them straight,
hang them down they still are need a flow to make a sweet
sound,
The rhyme,
the time is put into consideration when iplay with all my words,
My best friend is my pen, my paper and my head there is no limit to what i can,
Its a poem am at it a work of art in progress i love the work
of my hands...
poem by Kennedy Musyoka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conjugating
I conjugate the verb to be:
miracle sentences;
non-existent one moment
then coming into Being
utterly unique the next;
perhaps never before
uttered
in all of existence
before this
moment,
on this page
at this time
from this mind.
Miracle this,
shared by all of us.
I conjugate the verb Coming into Being
from Potentialities of Being
trolling for words not yet extent
having some portion of Being
but not yet born
on Poet Pages.
I conjugate the verb Now Being Born
words coupling in sentences
flowing down
forming paragraphs
couplets, rhymes,
emotional hieroglyphics,
history,
Ideas
and glifs,
and then they
are on to Being Past.
In single verbs
we lash together
all Being;
that which is Now Born on pages,
that which was written yesterday
and those word-stories
we borrow
from future sentences
yet to be born
which live only in our dreams.
We conjure all this
from that Beautiful Nothingness
where Creativity lives
where unexpectedly
these Beings
come as daytime
and night-time sprites
into life
shine as diamond-faceted
moon-beams
changing who we are
as they transit.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mood
I'll simply be out shopping,
or just going for a run,
when words and phrases hit me,
and a poem has begun.
Sentences and lots of words,
go running through my mind,
and i know if i dont write them down,
my thoughts leave me behind.
So quick hand me some paper!
Just please give me that pen!
If i do not write this down soon,
the words will go again.
poem by Holly Smith
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In This World Of Infinite Words
IN THIS WORLD OF INFINITE WORDS
In this world of infinite words
So many poems have already been written,
Infinite poems in infinite words-
Therefore any new poem simply seems to cry out its own non- necessity-
Yet in a word in a voice
A whole world can be born and transformed-
A new poem a real poem
Can make us forget all the others
And make all the others live through it-
Yet who in this world of infinite words
Can write this poem?
And when will the next set of strangers names come
To show me that my words are nothing?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Funny Talk
My funny talk it gets me laughing much, each day,
when I try to talk, the words don't come right anyway;
The words are all mixed up, with words jumbled too,
like! getting jelly beans from my throat, oh phew.
My funny talk, I hope, won't get me in trouble,
cause sometimes the sentences are all in a muddle;
like saying I was in the piddle, instead of in the middle,
and I wanted to say fiddle as in violin, I said I played the biddle.
Yes! I can laugh at these things, I know I'm getting old,
But that's what life brings along, that's what I am told;
Life brings so many trials and funny things as well,
I wouldn't change a thing, my mind rings like a well, I mean Bell.
See the more I try to say a sentence, it ends in a stew,
to make life complicated, does it happen also to you?
But maybe I just make these things go down in a verse or 2,
and end in a funny poem, so it can be read by you.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Uselessness In Arguing About The Proper Use Of Words
those that discuss much about words
and how properly they must be used
how grammar is murdered and
sentences dis-edified must have no talent
to pursue into
actual use without complaint as to what
must be and could have been
in fact words are not pillars
where buildings stand and become castles
words in truth only serve within that curve
beyond this fence
and walls
words cannot go over and
penetrate
those that you think and remember
and keep forever
no word has ever conquered
sometimes
mouth-less it cannot utter
speechless in air
unrecognizable anymore in the word of those
unspoken
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today... 'God my Maker
I was intricately woven upon His heavenly loom
As He carefully knit me together in my mothers womb
In that most secret of places when my conception took place
Ready at the time of my birth to enter the human race
Before the first moment of my earthly existence began
God had written in His book my inmost being and life plan
Each syllable penned and words in calligraphy composed
There sentences were handwritten and the paragraphs disclosed,
From the first chapter of my birth to the last one of my death
Each had been thoughtfully written before I'd taken a breath
I praise God that I am fearfully and wonderfully made
The handiwork of My Great Creator is in me displayed
Living letters turned into syllables and then became words.
These words began to form phrases and the sentences emerged.
Chapters made out of many paragraphs were arranged with care
each carefully written by the in the book of my life there.
For my life is now that book to be read by everyone
because it speaks of His Grace and the wonders Jesus has done.
For in His mercy before the world was made and time began
He had included Roy Allen in His great Salvation plan.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
Make The World Go Away
(words & music by hank cochran)
Make the world go away
Get it off my shoulder
Say the things we used to say
And make the world, make it go away
Do you remember when you loved me
Before the world took you away
Well if you do, then forgive me
And make the world, make it go away
Make the world go away
Get it off my shoulder
Say the things we used to say
And make the world, make it go away
Now Im sorry if I hurt you
Let me make it up to you day by day
And if you will please forgive me
And make the world, make it go away
Make the world go away
Get it off my shoulder
Say the things we used to say
And make the world, make it go away
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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