En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Once we have learned to read, meaning of words can somehow register without consciousness.

quote by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words Sometimes Take On A Own Meaning

Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and sometimes they are sharp and painful
as if there is much more to words

as if a kind of secret knowledge hides in them
that are sometimes something moving.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning

but somehow words can at times miss things
and are sometimes dependent on feelings
as if there is much more to words

when through it all love brings a kind of bonding
and so you and I are attractive to each other.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning

and daily a bond develops between us,
while you become more considerable to me,
as if there is much more to words

you constantly live in my thoughts,
while love becomes real through words.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
as if there is much more to words…

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Words

You don't have to read these words.
That's all they are anyway...
Just words.
You don't have to connect to my feelings.
You never will.
How can you?
I'm another 'somebody' meaning nothing.
Somebody saying nothing...
Meaningful to you!
I know this.
And I knew!
Much like you...
I too,
Am just passing through here,
With nothing else to do!
And these words put together,
Are for folks like us...
Me and you.
With nothing specific on our minds.
As we both find this time,
To discover words to just browse through.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sound Of Wings.....

from the bars of the cell,
i learned freedom from the body.
from the underside of the bridge,
i learned home has not a house.
from forty years of working,
i learned the bitterness of the slave.
from the political lies,
i learned that truth cant be bought.
from the books i read,
i learned to reason and question.
from the heroin needle,
i learned the value of life.
from love lost,
i learned how to love.
from doubt i learned seeking,
in seeking i found god to be more.
from the scars on my heart,
i learned to be a man.
from battles fought and lost,
i learned the need for peace.
from discrimination i learned equality,
from anger i learned forgiveness.
from the mirror i learned responsibility...
from the bars of the cell,
i learned the sound of wings!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Education

At school I sometimes read a book,
And learned a lot of lessons;
Some small amount of pains I took,
And showed much acquiescence
In what my masters said, good men!
Yet after all I quite
Forgot the most of it: but then
I learned to write.

At Lincoln's Inn I'd read a brief,
Abstract a title, study
Great paper-piles, beyond belief
Inelegant and muddy:
The whole of these as time went by
I soon forgot: indeed
I tried to: yes: but by and by
I learned to read.

By help of Latin, Greek and Law
I now can write and read too:
Then perish each forgotten saw,
Each fact I do not need too:
But still whichever way I turn
At one sad task I stick:
I fear that I shall never learn
Arithmetic.

poem by James Kenneth Stephen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Read My Lips

verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.

these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.

these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.

these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.

read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.

they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.

never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about

the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.

infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.

deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowin' Prose

I'm flowing prose to cons and cons to pros
I'm scheming rhyme against reason like it was flow against know
But beyond the concepts and emotions that rise
To the interconnectedness that underlies
The lies upon lies have lost their meaning
The plies upon plies of consciousness that is being
Over and over I fall I learned to walk from a crawl
It's not sad it's just the way and the purpose of it all

Now every word that you heard that I said that you felt
Was put in place in the space as they were shuffled and dealt
I steal feels from reels but I pay my respects
Paying compliments and disses and deciphering affects
Words are water as I court her

song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without you

I write words in vain,
words of which the meaning
you do not comprehend

and how to press love
into a few words
I do not really know

and you are away
and we stay a hundred miles from each other
and it feels as if

it is in different worlds,
as if every thing with time looses meaning
and I play the songs that you sing over and over

as if I can hear something in your voice,
read your poems time and time again,
as if it can bring something of you back to me

while destiny flattens me
and you run
like water through my fingers

and without you
my life is without meaning
and it continues aimlessly

and I do not know
why things at times do not work out,
why I am fighting life’s struggle in vain

and I cannot get you
out of my heart,
and cannot fight against you being part of me

and my blood is pouring, as my heart is broken
and my life falls to pieces without you
and I hope that your plans are only prosperous.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Poem

The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Register is very important. Music sounds best in a certain register.

quote by Steve Lacy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poem's flight

A poet, far from his beloved,
wrote a poem full of meaning
and, calling a carrier-pigeon from his loft,
sent it as a white dove to his beloved

It was a long flight
and by the time his beloved read the poem
under the lamplight in her room
its meaning had changed for her
with the course of time and the human heart

If the pigeon, midway on its flight,
had rested in our loft
to drink a little rain, eat a little grain,
and we had read the poem - would it have
any meaning for us?

Where does meaning go
when it is not here?
How does meaning change,
between a smile, a tear?

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Read And Read Again

TO READ AND READ AGAIN

To read and to read again
And to be left empty
By the abundance of words
Whose meanings multiplication
Erases all sense
Of their coherence
And our understanding.

To read and read again
As if in this pretence of learning
Salvation will come
To read and read again
And be forever dumb.

.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is...?

What is the meaning of hate?
Is it the dislike of someone different than you?
Or is it the loathing of something simple like broccoli?

What is the meaning of discrimination?
Is it the hatred of someone of a different background?
The hatred of skin color;
Or is it the bitter taste of being different from everyone else?

What is the meaning of uniqueness?
Is it the purpose of being odd and unusual?
The adaptation to your own life and style;
Or is it the stereotypical clan that society has put you?

What is the meaning of life?
Is it that time keeps moving; leaving us in the dust is leaves behind?
The endless stream of consciousness that everything has;
Or is it the meaningless and indefinable thing we give every day?

What is the meaning of death?
Is it that grim reaper knocking at your door?
The inky blackness of nothing;
Or is it something that can’t be defined only experienced when it is time?
Many questions are asked everyday without even meaning to ask them.
They are hidden within the minds of those who are too afraid to speak out;
To let THEIR voices be heard.
So I ask you these questions in hope that you will ask them yourself;
To find the meaning of it for yourself and not what others say it is.

One final question is all I leave you with.
What is the meaning of everything that you thought you knew?

poem by Regan Meade
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've learned

Ive learned that to love someone doesnt have to involve pain,
Ive learned that to have a friend you must be a friend first,
Ive learned that in time youll see your mistakes and learn from them,
Ive learned that to be alone sometimes is the best thing for you,
Ive learned that in order to love a person you must feel loved,
Ive learned that if your wrong admit it or youll never forgive yourself,
Ive learned that your first love will be a part of you and you may never forget,
Ive learned that in order to move on you must fix what was first wrong,
Ive learned that if you ever mess up, you can always start over again,
Ive learned that to be 'cool' doesnt involve pressure,
Ive learned to accept what I have and be happy,
Ive learned that people will come and go so tell the ones you love how you feel,
Ive learned that to respect yourself you must respect others,
Ive learned that your actions always involve consequences whether it be good or bad,
Ive learned that priceless words can mean the world to someone,
Ive learned that sometimes being silent is the best solution,
Ive learned to expect the unexpected,
Ive learned that healing a broken heart involves tears and pain,
Ive learned to see the world in the eyes of others,
And Ive learned that each new day is a day to touch a life.

poem by Carly Almonde
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quotation ... A writer expresses himself in words that have been used before because they give his meaning better than he can give it himself, or because they are beautiful or witty, or because he expects them to touch a cord of association in his reader, or because he wishes to show that he is learned and well read. Quotations due to the last motive are invariably ill-advised the discerning reader detects it and is contemptuous the undiscerning is perhaps impressed, but even then is at the same time repelled, pretentious quotations being the surest road to tedium.

quote by Henry W. Fowler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faculty

Sometimes it seems so hard to work out the words,
and then again it seems not hard at all. Just write,
is as simple as that. There are times i can't seem to
work the words, other times the words come up
bubbling in my head with character and meaning.
At times i feel challenged by other writers, and i
begging to doubt my ability to work the words,
i simple read another writer and then i know i have
nothing to be worry about. I understand then that my
contest is with myself and not with other writers.
We all think about the same things, because once
in our life’s we all go through the same situations.
We all have the brain to create anything in our heads.
There’s nothing that i can't do if i focus and if i
don't focus; “you see” this word- focus is meaningful
in some ways, we need the focus, but in poetry we
need more the fantasy in our thoughts, the meaning
to our words, focusing can be important, but if your
head is not in the mood, there’s not going to be any
words bubbling up, even though you don’t need it so
much, because you can create a poem out of anything.
There’s one thing about writing, and reading poetry,
understanding the meaning behind the words.
Every word or phrase has a meaning behind, this is
where readers need to understand; for example-if i'm
drinking away my sorrows, it can mean, crying my
heart out, it can mean, i need to forget, it can mean,
a big hangover, it can mean, sleeping out in the porch,
it can mean, forgetting all you did last night; how many
things out of a phrase. Right know I would just like
to be in my cabin and sit right in front of the fire-place
with a bottle of wine and enjoy my pastoral life while
i write, amazing things.

poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lip Service

Words inspire and words destroy
Words conspire and words annoy
Words spread freedom and words detain
Words believe them in sound refrain
Words of passion in words misleading
Words without action are words without meaning

poem by P.R. Prosper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Red Schoolhouse

The little red schoolhouse
was just down the road.
The dress she was wearin'
her mama sewed.
She'd watched her mama make it
with needle and thread.
Her mama was smilin'
from the words she had read.

Mama loved to hear her
read all the words she knew.
'Cause mama couldn't read them,
except for a few.
She said there was no schoolhouse
when she was young.
And most of the words she learned
were from songs that had been sung.

The little red schoolhouse
had only one room.
But every time she'd been in it
she was like a flower in bloom.
She knew she'd make her mama
very proud some day
for that little red schoolhouse
would show her the way.

She remembers that school bell
ringin' in the morn
and mama sayin' 'Rise up girl,
a new day has been born.'
She smiled now thinkin' back
and some tears it now brought,
not for the little red schoolhouse
but for what her mama had taught.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Until Your Face Turns Blue Or Red

You can attack what I've said all you want.
In fact you have an open invitation.
But you will never be able to decipher,
What is in my head.
You can dig with a shovel...
Until your face turns blue or red.
To chill or heat from what's been said.
Or determine to conclude from what you've read!

You are not aware from where my thoughts begin.
Or 'who' is behind the 'what'
That influences them!
There is a process that has no specific beginning,
Or an ending that could satisfy me within.
My tongue unleashes with words that seem to spin...
From eyes I have not yet seen,
And apparently neither does 'this thing' screen.
Revealing with a meaning,
From other dimensions we exist in!

Defining with comprehension,
As I receive these mental visions.
I am used like a human instrument...
With a consciousness,
I am neither for nor against...
As I am just the participant.
And accepting how this happens without a defense,
That pleases me to know it is intended!
Like you,
I too am a witness!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words

Yeats so simply stated
' Words alone are certain good. '
And to the great poet
So highly rated
I try to listen, as I should; Yet
Being an untrained novice
Such as me
With verdant hopes of much improvement
- oh that I would -
I beg to slightly differ with W. B.
And offer here my humble opinion
- if I could -
Good certainly is not words alone,
For without humanity
To read and to write
How would they ever become known?
- For without the good of people
Who of these words would care
Ever to be heard, or even shared?
No, the good does not alone from words arise,
Rather from human beings
Whose entire story
Such words do attempt to comprise.......
- Words written in this time
May even the way
To a distant future find,
But not on their own
And never alone.
For it takes people's
- hand's to write
- eye's to read
- heart and soul to understand
The purpose, and the need.
Let it here be shown
Words alone
Are not the only good,
They need human beings
To give goodness and life
To their reason and meaning
For they are merely the vehicle
By which man's true good
Is found and understood.

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Still Trying To Learn That Lesson

In my wildest dreams,
I would never have imagined...
Or in my mind thought to create,
The twists and turns my life has taken.
I am not that innovative.

I learned early as a child,
The term sacrifice.
But the meaning of it,
Has hit home clearly...
On more than one occasion,
With an experience of it.

I also learned the meaning of patience.
But I didn't think,
The meaning of it meant...
I would need to have it for the rest of my life!
'Someone' ordered re-writes to my contract.

I learned early as a child,
The term sacrifice.
But the meaning of it,
Has hits home clearly...
With many fouls to strike out,
To experience with doubts.

And today it seems,
I have accomodated both patience AND sacrifice.
As if inseparable twins loving to dress alike!
However...
I am 'still' trying to learn that lesson,
Why both at the same time...
Have to show up to pluck my nerves?
With the testing of my emotions.

And no one as of yet,
Can supply me with an answer.
Or suggest with a hint or clue,
As to how best to deal with them.
Especially when they pick the wrong time,
To decide to hold a conference with me involved.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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