I like all things grammatical, and I had already written several books about parts of speech, and even the alphabet, so everything that makes up a sentence and even a word was covered except for punctuation.
quote by Brian P. Cleary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Yeah, well, the F-bomb - it's become as ubiquitous as the word 'like.' People just throw the word 'like' around as punctuation. And I think in a lot of everyday speech, the F-bomb has become a kind of dash or a comma.
quote by Geoffrey Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The human mind is not capable of grasping the Universe. We are like a little child entering a huge library. The walls are covered to the ceilings with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written these books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. But the child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books - a mysterious order which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects.
quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speeeeeech!
does it make difference you speak in front of many people or alone
does it make difference you speech in historic place or in your toilet
does it make difference you are charismatic leader or unknown beggar from streetside
it makes difference you speak to clash conflict or for better world
it makes difference you speech bonded by past or to move forward
it makes difference you depend by fact or just soap service
does it make difference you read from text or speak fluently
does it make difference you speech in busy market or deserted mountain
does it make difference you write words yourself or scrap it from books and paper
it makes difference everybody exitedly listens or sleeps peacefully on their seats
it makes difference you have freedom to speak or prisoned by intimidation
it makes difference it gives effect or just a long boring speech
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Alphabet Lost And Found
On this fateful day, in the history of whenever,
An epidemic of missing letters has swept the land.
Whatever the cause, for the sake of future generations,
In the limited time we have been permitted, these stories must be told.
There was an apple that lost his 'a'
There was a zebra that lost his 'z'
There was a chauffeur that left his 'auffer' on the dashboard
Of the car that lost its 'r'
Well, the car had lost its 'r' in a pothole
On a street that lost its 'e'
When the garbage collector with a missing 'ector' swept it up
With a broom that lost its 'oom'
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together-
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
There was a school that lost its 'cool'
when they tired to ring the bell that had no 'l'
With all the letters gone, the spelling bee was canceled
Science teachers had their hands full
English classes could not be complete
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Crowds of people, animals, and incomplete words have been seen at a previously unknown place to be referred to as-
The alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found) (how could they survive without their letters)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Diamond, the Socrateses in You
can life be so simple?
as is written in all the books?
where have all your probing
Socrateses gone to?
the bubbly quest for life
that is so infectious everybody
is drawn to your enthusiasm
to take a fresh view of themselves
giving themselves new angle
to breathe life, for truths, for the
realities behind every written word
where has the diamond in you gone to?
the characterthat makes you shine
in so many facets
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Persistent
Annoyance?
Okay.
Agitation?
I wouldn't use that word.
But...
Okay.
Head strong and hard headed?
I would say determined!
Spoiled and self-centered?
You're getting warm!
Persistent and...
Bingo!
That's it!
Persistent.
Now that we've almost covered the alphabet...
Are you giving me sex or not?
Or do I have to beg?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I want to write such things as compel the admiring acclamation of the world at large, such things as are written but once in years, things subtle but distinctly different from the books written every day.
quote by Mary MacLane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words Again
Thoughts can be words, can be flowers that burgeon like words,
Thunders that are right in the middle of happiness,
Ones that make talk with books and with all speaking sense.
The sounds are not anywhere near us,
Yet the word can believe in living free,
Where actions cannot, and nor can thoughts necessarily.
We work on the words of leaders like listening is,
When speech is hazardous and non-wrong,
And liars can speak offensively, like a long long wrong.
Speech is therefore recommended in the form of words,
Of dementia I give word not or word obvious,
But of sound advice for any goodness to come and seize.
Deceased are the word-lovers as much as fences are put up,
As if the sea is given a status that delves too deep
Of words, and it is funny how many words that there are.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
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The Parts In Relation To The Whole
the parts in relation to the whole are hard to muster
i get lost somehow
confused on this seemingly unrelated part to another part
like seeing the legs of this millipede
when it would have been easier to think of it
as a worm,
i remember being lost in a forest of trees
wild growing trees where i can no longer figure out the shape
of a single leaf
because it is too dark
and damp
too many little things, too many details, that hinder us
from grasping the wholeness of
things
and people and daily events,
i get tired of all these, parts and parts and parts and some more
miniatures of parts, a letter to the word,
speaking in cut phrases
how can i ever understand this and that?
show me the whole
be whole to me as i am whole to you
touch the parts later
relate it always to me
this love is whole, it was never meant to be chopped
like some garlic and onions
this love is an apple that you see and pick from the tree
take it first
in its appleness, then start to bite
every part is sweet, every part is me,
this love
this me, this whole world is me
it must be first to you
then love becomes us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bad Writing
the sentence & the paragraph had agreed upon meeting at dawn
out in the middle of the page
as the reflection off the fine silver pen being lifted by the human hand in the sky
shone off the bright white recycled paper
there stood one strong paragraph,
which
was armed with clever words, quirky verbs & quiet frankly,
a whole slew of other sentences
who may or may not be brought into the fray
with this
vigilante,
who stood a good distance away from the paragraph
with its shadow blotting out part of the page-
the sentence was tight
knit
&
written in a language that the paragraph had never heard of
before-
the paragraph tilted it’s font a bit, to stave off the human shifting the paper,
causing a bit of a breeze across the soft plane,
but the sentence hadn’t come here today
to waste its time flashing its
fashion sense, and in
standard
new times roman,
it spoke out in italics
“we gonna do this or not? ”
& the paragraph,
without a moment’s hesitation,
nodded, saying, in some bold n’ fancy variation of
book antiqua,
“i been ready since i saw the punctuation at the end of your
babbling jumble of foreign words”-
at that point,
the title of the page & the
header
walked in tandem to the place in between both the paragraph
and the sentence-
now equidistant apart from both,
they talked of what had brought both these forms of writing
to the page
this brisk & early morning in
june-
to make a story short,
the foreign language sentence & the
english (current language of commerce) paragraph
had come to this duel over a
beautiful
metaphor-
and while both the title & the header could understand,
having fallen for beautiful metaphors once or twice in their own
multiple drafts, themselves,
it was still a sad sight to see two
strong forms of writing,
battling over one
metaphor,
when there were so many
phrases in the
sea of literature-
the title & the header opened up the utterance
& from that utterance, they pulled two perfect
pistols full of wit
(the weapon of choice for both the paragraph & the sentence) ,
and after handing both of the forms of writing their
prospective pistol,
they stood back and off to the side of the page,
frightened of what was to happen next-
back to back,
the paragraph & the sentence marched away from each other
space by space by space,
to the traditional margins,
and when they both reached them
they turned round quick,
firing their wit at will-
the paragraph,
hefty & edited well,
was able to fire its wit faster,
as it had already gone through so many drafts, and had
honed its skill
whereby each word within it, had its own place
(it was a “ripped” paragraph, if you can picture it-lean & not very wordy at all) ,
however,
though the sentence wasn’t as well formed as the paragraph,
it was sleek & stealthy-
its words rolled off a human’s tongue when they read it
aloud,
and in this, the sentence was able to
wiggle itself around,
missing the mass spray of wit that had been fired by the
paragraph’s pistol-
as in every fight,
there is a winner & a loser,
this one was no different,
and the hefty, well edited paragraph,
had too much to move
and too little time to do so,
when the sentence wielded its wit towards it-
the sentence, relentlessly, kept firing,
not satisfied & not feeling safe,
until the paragraph, with all of its fellow sentences within,
crumbled to the page,
now,
a mere pile of
sentence fragments & misplaced
words & punctuation.
the sentence,
victorious,
nodded to the title & the header, who nodded back,
and walked out of the lamplight & into the shadow
to embrace the sweet warmth of its
beautiful metaphor
which had been watching the wit-fight
behind the margin.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
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Always Moving On
the past
is just a set of some
grammatical errors
which i do not
wish to correct
because they are understood
to mean
what you think
too is right
but is too tired to
comment
or change
one does not have
the time to go
back and
fret and
edit
because there is so much
to write
to put into the concrete pavements
once again
to choose and
discard
to begin again a new
sentence
putting the first word on
paper
bulbs lighting
a new day
sun rising from the
east
and then suddenly
as you look again
on the screen
and look out to the
window
it is another sunset
and it is
too beautiful to speak
or write
there is no jutting down now
it is just plain
gazing
your hands on the table
all pens up
and you surrender to
such ending
it is too beautiful to behold
and then
at night some other dreams
let the letters then
reorganize themselves
let the errors
reorder what should have been
or
ought to be
now i am moving again
into another depth
another milestone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alphabet Town
Alphabet city is haunted
Constantina feels right at home
She probably wont say youre wrong
But youre already wrong
Youre already wrong
And you threw up whatever she shot down
Said show me around this alphabet town
Said show me around
Theres a name you keep repeating
You got nothing better to do
And youre with someone wholl hear you say it and just nod
Her hand on your arm
Her hand on your arm
She put her hand on your arm
And told you her name you cant pronounce it
Ill show you around this alphabet town
Ill show you around this alphabet town
I know what you are
I just dont mind
I wont say youre wrong
I know what you want
And its what I want
So lets go out
Im ready to go out
Ill show you around this alphabet town
Ill show you around this alphabet town
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In making a speech one must study three points: first, the means of producing persuasion; second, the language; third the proper arrangement of the various parts of the speech.
God suffers in the multitude of souls whom His word can not reach. Religious truth is imprisoned in a small number of manuscript books which confine instead of spread the public treasure. Let us break the seal which seals up holy things and give wings to Truth in order that she may win every soul that comes into the world by her word no longer written at great expense by hands easily palsied, but multiplied like the wind by an untiring machine.
quote by Johannes Gutenberg
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Purple Cast
A breath is not a word
A whisper is not a sentence
Pain is not a paragraph
But Pride and Prejudice do make a book
What is a word?
Where is a sentence?
Who is paragraph?
When is a book?
All these question race through our minds
The universal quest for understanding
Flat on our backs, we contemplate
While the ambulance siren sounds
poem by Cornelia Ceilings
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Rick Frishman The Publicity Guru
Bestselling author and speaker is Rick Frishman,
he is an expert on teaching publicity first hand.
He has a great website for writers to boot,
www.rickfrishman.com and he shows writers how to toot.
Toot your own horn to get on radio or t.v.,
he promoted author Barbara De Angelis for all the world to see,
See how helpful her self-help books can really be.
Rick also does a seminar that helps authors go into print,
leading them away from "print on demand" to NYC giants.
Now I went to Las Vegas and met Rick Frishman there,
He is very personable and really does care.
I have couple of his books, "Show me about Book Publishing"
I bought this book last year,
"Author 101 Bestselling Book Publicity", which makes publicity very clear.
Very good resource books that I keep very near
Rick gives a lot of information in all his books I read,
I will reread all of them and take heed.
I now make my "silver bullet" or elevator speech,
to give my books a "hook" and make them succeed.
Thank you Rick Frishman for sharing your knowledge
with all new writers and me.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 23,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.christinasunrise.com
www.suzaechevalier.com www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Wise Brain
As in most positions
The best internal position
Is to finish and wait for the
Right moment, then fix
And fasten the rules.
My ordeal is over when
The sentence has been written,
By scribes of books,
By learned men so old,
And by the wise kings.
This I purposely commit
To the forebrain, and speak
Wisdom, so blessed and divine,
Each of us are having it
As much as the deity shall forbid.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Palomo
The word 'Jehovah' was unknown until 1520;
And this was introduced by Galatinus!
But was contested by Le Mercier, J. Darusius and L. Capellus because,
They found it to be wrong from the actual Name of the Creator as 'YAHWEH'!
Farewell Palomo,
For the word 'Jehovah' is of a grammatical error!
But to the land of the truth i will always rest my mind;
For the Holy Scriptures have been misused and abused by many.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My English Teacher
At the grade three
A new teacher came
Around her table
A queue we were all in
Having exercise books on our hands
To get written our names on it
Twining with aroma of her perfume
Let the mind not go back to the bench
My English teacher
Not like other teachers
Wearing new dresses
Pleasant smile with snazzy
I bought a double rule book
To write proper English letters
Putting the alphabet of base
Following day had a message
No more with us
Principle's words
Teacher came to us
We cried a lot
"Why may teacher you go leaving us'
'Is our school not good'
While worshiping on her feet
Without an answer
Looking at us
Touched our heads
She got a transfer
Because of our remote dry school
Since then on
Until primary end
Without an English teacher
My texts books were new
She doesn't know me for sure
Placed an aroma still in my mind
You wrote that name of mine
I am writing today.
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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