After the verb 'to Love,' 'to Help' is the most beautiful verb in the world.
quote by Bertha von Suttner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From, Thinking and Love!
From to....
Thinking......
Love! ! ! Someone!
This is a powerful verb!
Needs no preposition.
Love! Ready.
Without one, you can also.
They say someone is better
But it can be alone!
He fulfills his role well!
LOVE only when coupled
Loving Someone!
You can not love this, this, this......
You can not love My, Your, Our......
You can only LOVE! in You, for You
There you can!
Then, combine!
Jealous that Verb!
But it also has another verb.
What comes after the LOVE!
Think!
Thinking requires.... something that, in my, in yours, in our!
You also think.... From the Other!
Thinking all is wanting!
At that point! In this combination!
The love does not tolerate such a preposition
Demanding that verb!
Then comes the
FROM!
Birth from thee!
Because you began putting together The Love
and finished with The Think!
Painful this verb!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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The Grammar Lesson
A noun's a thing. A verb's the thing it does.
An adjective is what describes the noun.
In "The can of beets is filled with purple fuzz"
of and with are prepositions. The's
an article, a can's a noun,
a noun's a thing. A verb's the thing it does.
A can can roll - or not. What isn't was
or might be, might meaning not yet known.
"Our can of beets is filled with purple fuzz"
is present tense. While words like our and us
are pronouns - i.e. it is moldy, they are icky brown.
A noun's a thing; a verb's the thing it does.
Is is a helping verb. It helps because
filled isn't a full verb. Can's what our owns
in "Our can of beets is filled with purple fuzz."
See? There's almost nothing to it. Just
memorize these rules...or write them down!
A noun's a thing, a verb's the thing it does.
The can of beets is filled with purple fuzz.
poem by Steve Kowit
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The word is the Verb, and the Verb is God.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Verbs v. nouns
Nouns…
they’re dead things; names
you give to things to render them
immobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothing
except scrapheaps, museums, dictionaries, armchairs;
but they make you feel good;
you have control over their world;
you don’t have to think about them any more;
they’re all locked up safe in your collecting-box,
the noun for which is head:
you can sound important with nouns:
this government’s raft of measures
for fiscal stimulation of the economy
but verbs… ah, verbs!
you can’t own them, push them about,
collect them, be important about them;
they own themselves;
they’re outdoor words: going about their
lawful business, doing what they're best at,
measuring their own life as they work;
adapting themselves to what needs to be done
which nouns can’t do without a committee
and then it’s too late; happy
to be themselves, being; even
being while they’re doing.. don't you wish
you were a verb?
Nature – (that’s a verb, by the way,
not a noun) – is all verbs; evolution
is a verb (not a theory):
DNA’s a verb – you can’t own it
like a noun…it doesn’t even
want to own you…
so, be a child – put your boots on,
run, splash, shout look at all those verbs;
how bright the world, what fun,
nothing to put in your pocket to take home
(or if you do, it’ll change to a noun, your noun,
in your pocket, in your drawer, gathering dust:
verbs don’t have the time to gather dust…)
verbs are for observing; verbs are for
seeing for the first time; wow! Verbs are for
inventors, explorers, tree-climbing,
coming home after a day of verb-watching
tired and looking forward to tomorrow
and sleeping soundly, maybe even
thanking, laughing, giving, living;
God is a verb.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A verb has a hard enough time of it in this world when it is all together. It's downright inhuman to split it up. But that's what those Germans do. They take part of a verb and put it down here, like a stake, and they take the other part of it and put it a way over yonder like another stake, and between these two limits they just shovel in German.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Artist as verb
Perhaps the world is more grammatical
than grammar: reveals itself, a little coded –
as codes tempt, when grammar hides
under the guise of schoolmaster:
the artist, say, as verb:
as the verb, to be:
luring the mighty subject
beyond all thought, to become
an object we can all enjoy:
the sculptor, deep within his isness,
praying with his chisel
so that Krishna cannot but consent;
entering this stone;
the poet, listening to
the Word behind all words,
charming the spirit of all things
to make all objects sacred in our eyes;
the musician, listening to the silence,
as through his being, pass
worlds of knowledge beyond all words..
we, as heaven’s verb,
watching as subject, object,
make themselves a mirror for each other.
Grammar could be love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Inscription For A Grammar
There were two cheerful pronouns
And nought did them disturb:
Until they met, out walking.
A conjugative verb.
The pronouns, child, were You and I,
We might as well confess;
But, ah, the mischief-making verb
I leave to you to guess!
poem by Christopher Morley
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In Hell
You live by the book of wonders,
The book has hell on it when opened.
The inferno carries pits too grilling,
The grills are offered by devils,
Contagious diseases are handed over
To the body and bones, full of hatred.
A hell of books is opened by the librarian,
You choose a simple verb to read,
Then this verb is read, the verb that signals death.
Your death must never come by reading books,
Long scrolls so wonderful,
Of books the world is made
And the reason for books is reading,
Not living in Hell.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Here In My Room
This party is old and uninviting
Participants all in black and white
You enter in full blown technicolor
Nothing is the same after tonight
If the world would fall apart
In a fiction worthy wind
I wouldn't change a thing now that you're here
Yeah, love is a verb here in my room
You enter and close the door behind you
Now show me the world seen from the stars
If only the lights would dim a little
I'm weary of eyes upon my scars
If the world would fall apart
In a fiction worthy wind
I wouldn't change a thing now that you're here
Yeah, love is a verb here in my room
Pink tractor beam into your incision
Head spinning is free, it's dervish's wheel
I came here expecting next to nothing
So thank you for being that kind of girl
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Lovers In The World Of Words
we shall be lovers
in the world of the words
you can be a pronoun
not a name of a person
and i can be a verb
making love with you
in the world of words
you can just be a phrase
and i can be a clause
we can make a sentence
not a question but this
interjection but not that
loud but something so
discreet like a moaning
sound of a woman
titillated by a man inside
a scented room and then
for all we know in the world
of words we have become
a beautiful poem of love
insatiable desire, endless
quest of our real meaning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hardheaded Young Poet
this morning he finds the last line
he decided to put the last word
there is no period and the image is that of a verb
this push and pull without restraint
the yin and yang and the moon and sun
i suggest another thing perhaps another verb
like a flowing river
a falling rain
but he said he has decided to put what may sound at most
pornographic
i embrace silence since i know what a poet is
this hardheaded creature who makes the walls and doors of stones
and roofs with all the Spanish tiles
sometimes i wonder if hearts can be made of platinum too
for mine is as red as bricks
with wires as veins
and chest like steel.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Verb to Love
Some people tell me that love is a feeling
Or a possession
Somehow it seems so cold
And when they say love is sweet,
Does it mean that you eat it?
Maybe you drink it,
Does it fill up an empty hole?
Im lookin for a love and I may not find it
You know it doesnt mean a thing
Without some action behind it
Please come home
I can hear them calling
Please come home
Please dont leave us all alone
Your mama and your papa are crying all alone
You better let it magnetize, learn to sacrifice
til we get the true version of
The meaning of the verb to love
What does it mean to love?
And when somebody needs love,
Do they spend some money?
Say something funny,
Ask for some tenderness?
And when you wanna touch of love,
Do you lie on your back?
Stand on your head,
How do you feel it best?
Im looking for a love with no strings attached
To take me like I am, thats the only catch
Please come home
I can hear them calling
Please come home
Please dont leave us all alone
Your wife and your lover are crying all alone
You better let it magnetize, learn to sacrifice
til we learn the true version of
The meaning of the verb to love
Does it mean any more,
The more you talk about it
Is it anymore real
If you jump around and shout it
Im sick and tired of hearing
bout everyone without it and
Too much talkin sends me walkin
Night is falling and everybodys calling for love
Everybodys lookin for their one and only
Its only just a game cause theyre scared to be lonely
Please come home
I can hear them calling
Please come home
Please dont leave us all alone
Your brothers and your sisters are crying all alone
You got let it magnetize, learn to sacrifice
til we get the true version of
The meaning of the verb to love
What does it mean to love?
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Semantics Of Animal Objectification
to bag: verb for to kill a deer or other animal
to harvest: verb for to kill an elk or other animal
cull: a 3rd verb for murdering animals
thin the herd: phrase for murdering animals
pork: objectivist term for subdivided murdered pigs
beef.: objectivist term for subdivided murdered cows
mutton: objectivist term for subdivided murdered sheep
veal: objectivist term for a baby cow's murdered flesh
pate: objectivist term for the smashed livers of tortured geese
The word bovine is struck from tuberculosis to obscure
the disease causing nature of cows' milk
Kine Pox or Cow Pox: changed to smallpox to obscure
the eating of cowflesh as an origin of the disease
Wool Sorters' Disease.. changed to anthrax
study: verb for kidnapping, torturing and murdering lab animals
pith: to shove a needle into the brain of a living frog
field dress: to remove the skin from a mammal, pull out his
intestines etc.
stock market: term for many corporations invested in animal
and people slaughter
clear: to murder many trees
pluck: to kill a flower
mow: to decapitate dandelions, shred sapling trees
poem by Anna Hridaya
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Selfe's Grammar: a sonnet in the style of George Herbert
O Lord: my dearmost Selfe – why need I name Thee?
Whom I need not call - forever near;
O Lord: my wholest Selfe – what grammar speak Thee,
who art Word and Speech, and Mouth and Ear;
Thou art not circumscribed by any Noun,
that any but Thyself hath speech to say;
nor Pronoun Thou – who art both I and Thee
and He and She and every It and They;
All Verbs Thou art; and every verb, Thy act;
and yet, Thy Stillness knows no verb that moves;
no Adjective may praise Thee as Thou art;
no Adverb tell how Thy Love constant proves;
O Lord, my whole dear Selfe: my silent prayer
may speak the louder; Thy sweet Stillness share.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Marriage is not a noun; it's a verb. It isn't something you get. It's something you do. It's the way you love your partner every day.
quote by Barbara de Angelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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~ In Euphonic Yo-Yo ~
~ In Euphonic Yo-Yo ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
21 September 2010
Sorrows are hollow
Why mop n’ swallow
Why yell ouch ow?
Erase n’ eschew
Muffle fuddle foe woe
Low n’ lull all low
Sow n’ souse marrow.
In Euphonic Yo-Yo
Explore inner éclat El Dorado
Immix in melody mellow
Gleam n’ glow n’ wallow
In bedecked minstrel Yoo Hoo
Dance douse with Divine Billow.
Zoom n’ yep n’ uh-huh with ~
Ooh Yo!
Wreath Wow! !
Ye Jane Joe! ! !
==
Glossary with humility I’m giving what I tried to express.:
[1] Marrow ~ Most vital part of some idea..
[2] Wallow [Verb] ~ Be ecstatic with joy.
[3] Yoo Hoo ~ Gain someone's attention.
[4] Ooh [Verb] ~ Express admiration and pleasure.
[5] Yo ~. An informal address to one whose name is not known to another [Hi, Hey]
~~~
Copyright reserved by author
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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I think I am a verb.
quote by R. Buckminster Fuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God is a verb, not a noun.
quote by R. Buckminster Fuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God is a verb.
quote by Richard Buckminster Fuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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