I'm not sure specifically but there's definitely parts of me in Rikku.
quote by Tara Strong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the Self
the self is a mountain
you can go exploring
some parts are not reachable
and some parts so riveting
you just wish to sing them songs
some parts are caves you can shout
and hear your own echoes
some parts are a make belief
haunted house you can frighten yourself with
some parts are chambers of
mysteries you can get lost on your own
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Country Is Like A Body
When one part sick
All parts look unhealthy
When one part missing
All parts get the impact
When one part is weak
Do other parts only blame and not help to fix it?
When one part is failed
Do other parts only let it fall and not support it?
Even it is often forgotten
It doesn't mean it is not important
Even it is always underestimated
It doesn't mean it could completely be ignored
One part may be incapable
But it doesn't mean all parts can do nothing
One part may be invalid
But it doesn't mean all parts should also give up the spirit
In some incredible moment they are working together
In some unseen place they don't stop to struggle
It may be hard but always raises up the hope
It may be small change but always look forward
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I don't come in parts
I DON'T cOME IN PARTS
I
Can't
Give
You
Ha lf
Of
Me.
Because
I
Don't
CoM e
In
Parts! ! ! ! ! !
So if any resason that I don't fit in your plan of a whole, by all means walk and it will be easy for the both of us, because I DON'T COME IN PARTS.
poem by Clarence Williams
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The writing of good limericks you see
requires two parts insanitee -
two parts rhythyme
and three parts rhyme.
With that, you'll master the art completelee.
quote by by Otido Omukuba
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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For arousal
Females arouse males by their private parts
in all mammals, the parts well decked out.
In women they are hidden and buried.
Men sought their other parts for arousal.
23.09.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pulling myself together for M'lady Ann Beard
In dreams I can communicate
with disparate parts of me.
I’m learning to appreciate.
The frightening complexity
Of the different parts of me.
Which I must balance constantly
A task I must face every day
so they combine to make me, me..
I am a father and a son.
I am a brother and a friend.
The endless list goes on and on.
It seems as though it has no end.
Somehow I manage to control
at least the parts on public view.
The scattered parts which make the whole
But still conceal a thing or two.
The parts of me I need to change.
I’m sure I can do given time.
Some parts of me are weird and strange.
Like creatures from an earlier time.
The Id tries to assert its will.
The ego sure to disagree.
The super ego bids them both be still.
I just accept they’re part of me.
When other people look at me.
I wonder if they wonder too
If they can see reality.
I am not certain that I do.
Wednesday,02 December 2009
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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All Is Lost.
As rain starts glistening
All is lost.
As blood spills from the veins of those who are unsuspecting
All is lost.
Sad as may be
All is lost.
Tears pour from my wet eyes, then
All is lost.
All is lost in the shadows
As time passes me by
All is lost.
His eyes went gray, his skin faded pale
My love is lost.
poem by Rikku Finry
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A Gift One Gets
The ones who assumes,
What others initiate to do...
Had them specifically in mind.
Especially when their time to live,
Had not yet arrived.
Thrives on a me-me-I-I-aspects of life.
A gift one gets to enjoy it,
Is given to express...
What for them they do is best.
And rarely has nothing to do,
With those who chance upon it to view.
The ones who assume,
What others initiated to do...
Had them specifically in mind.
Especially when their time to live,
Had not yet arrived.
And those who wish to take credit,
For one's gift...
Only motivate its existence.
But should not perceive themselves,
The inspiration one finds to create from one's mind.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Specifically Picked And Selectively Chosen
There will always be the ones,
Specifically picked and selectively chosen...
To voice their opinion about the comparisons between,
Plums and pears or grapes and lemons...
In timely debates with attention given,
To get many to see the similarities.
There will always be the ones,
Specifically picked and selectively chosen to do this...
As long as it is known those listening will become outraged,
With their tempers raised to boil...
As they demand why they had not been told,
There was never any difference in presentation or taste.
There will always be the ones,
Followed by those with an absence of thinking done.
And believing anything they eat to digest,
Will benefit their best interest.
Caring less if the design of it,
Is to get their minds whipped into a frenzy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Yet Heard To Speak Specifically
I have never been one to hang onto,
A false sense of stability.
'Great.
Now...
Where is that coming from? '
Those who protest and their rallies.
They may not have a collective voice,
That is yet heard to speak specifically.
But one thing is very clear...
They may be declared mavericks.
But it is no mistaking they've grown tired,
Of their conformist positions.
I can not think of one thing specific,
That has directly affected such a downslide...
Of a quality of life overnight.
And yet those threatened by their elitist status,
Being attacked...
Have themselves become questioned.
And it seems as if,
Not one can lead with dependable leadership.
And...
Has of yet,
With their influence...
Corrected anything specifically,
In a collective direction that unifies.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Between Breaths I Take
You are not specifically on my mind,
When I write.
Nor are you far away,
From impressions that seem to linger.
You have been a part of my life for too long.
And you sit among my favorite experiences.
With the image of your face...
Clinging as a craving,
I could not or would not ever replace.
But you are not specifically on my mind,
When I write.
And I do make attempts,
To do that 'all' the time!
Convinced the act of it,
Keeps me disciplined...
And making good use,
Of that time!
Nor are you far away,
From impressions that seem to linger.
Your eyes.
Your voice.
And the soothness of it,
That haunts the emptiness of my heart.
The only time you seem to be there constantly...
Is when I am not writing at all.
Or sleeping!
Or eating!
Or in between breaths I take!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No One Comes To Leave Me With Tight Jaws
You didn't come to just visit!
Did you?
You came specifically to kill my joy.
I felt it when you began to assess,
With probing eyes.
As if to inspect.
I noticed you becoming annoyed,
When you said to me just last week...
My smile offended you.
And suspiciously I extended a welcome,
For you to come to my home.
And together we would sit and chat.
But you had more on your mind than that.
You didn't come to just visit!
Did you?
You came specifically to kill my joy.
And when you left...
So happy I was to have stored some happiness,
Frozen in my 'frig' to quickly thaw!
Oh no.
No one comes to leave me with tight jaws.
Or come to dump their junk to funk me.
I'll funk alone in my home if I wish,
With no need for assistance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Face determines
Unless you see the woman’s face,
Her other parts you’ve admired
Would fall as hollow and zero.
Parts must connect their face to value.
You would rewrite your judgment
If her face fails your expectations.
An agreeable face only makes
Other parts of her agreeable.
28.06.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Wisdom consists of ten parts: nine parts silence, and one part a few words.
Wisdom consists of ten parts -- nine parts of silence and one part with few words.
The three most important parts a man has are, briefly, his private parts, his money and his religious beliefs.
quote by Samuel Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Someone gave me a New Testament. I had never before read it systematically. Some parts made sense, some parts shocked me.
quote by Lionel Blue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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May I say, if you were suddenly put into a woman's body, wouldn't you be slightly interested in your breasts, and why people look at certain parts of you, and why certain parts move like they do?
quote by Kristen Johnston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Common sense steps in here and says: Separate the parts you want to be mobile from the parts you want to be inert. You have seen the result, and I know many have the skill to apply it.
quote by Lawrence Hargrave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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