The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.
quote by Omar Khayyam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moving Finger writes and, having writ, Moves on nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
quote by Omar Khayyam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
quote by Edward Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meditation Infused Medium Minds
written faith
hooked in words
rapidly writes
write your poems
straight out,
line by line,
no themes,
no plans,
complete as written
written words
written souls
infused medium minds
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Written in Black Ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her story
Her experiences
Her life
Written in
Black ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her sorrows
People she lost
People who are gone
Written in
Black ink
She writes for
Days and
Days
Until
At last
Her masterpiece
Is finished
Her eyes Begin to
Close and
Oblivion Takes hold
And when she
Awakens
Her story will be written
Written in black ink
poem by Autumn Winds
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From The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, I: 1-3, V: 12-15, 19-24, 71-72
1
Wake! For the Sun, who scattered into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n and strikes
The Sultán's Turret with a Shaft of Light.
2
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
Why nods the drowsy Worshiper outside?"
3
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open, then, the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."
12
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
13
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
14
Look to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow,
At once the silken tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."
15
And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turned
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
19
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropped in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
20
And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean--
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
21
Ah, my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears
Today of past Regrets and future Fears:
Tomorrow!--Why, Tomorrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.
22
For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath pressed,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest.
23
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend--ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?
24
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!
71
The Moving Finger writes, and, having writ,
Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
72
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawlingcooped we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help--for It
As impotently moves as you or I.
poem by Edward Fitzgerald
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The Love Letter
She wonders how to begin her letter
She knows he will read each word
Greedily for any hint of love. She knows
He will sniff the paper for any scent of her
She leans an elbow on her writing desk
And clutches her pen tight. She has got
As far as, Dear John, but then the words
Stopped coming. Before she had sat down
To write, the words flowed through her
Mind like a rushing stream, now nothing
She sucks the end of the pen. Say what
You would if you were face to face, her
Mother always said. She tries to imagine
He is there before her and what she would
Say if he was, but still no words will come
He writes to her so fluently when he writes
He always seems to know what to write
And how to put it into words. She tries again
Puts the pen nib onto the paper, gripping
The pen tighter. She reads what she’s written
Dear John. The pen moves, the words begin
To flow, her hand moves across the page
The images come into her mind as she writes
The things that they said last time they met
The things they did, she blushes slightly
That almost being caught out by the maid
In a state of undress. She pauses the pen
And sits gazing at the painting on the wall.
She looks back at the paper and starts again
The words tripping over themselves to be put
Down in ink upon a page; the images open up
In her mind, the colours, the smells, the events
The pen now stops. The love letter is written
The writing done. She looks at the words
Then she seals it in an envelope and writes
His address. She pictures him reading it: in bed
In his room, sleepy, in a state of his usual undress
poem by Terry Collett
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There Was Nothing Left To Write
THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT TO WRITE
There was nothing left to write
Everything had already been written
And was being written over again and again
By thousands elsewhere-
There was nothing left to write
And nothing new to say -
And no need for anything he had to give-
It was over for him as a writer
Whether he accepted it or not-
No one would ever need or want anything he could do again-
And so when he despite all this still wrote
It seemed to many simply pathetic-
The obsessive reflex of an already lost soul-
Who wrote and wrote and wrote
Who writes and writes and writes
Who cannot stop
However senseless all he does, is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Must
She writes as if there’s not much time.
She writes to pain, to happiness,
She writes to every remote detailed thought.
She writes to the departed,
to the extant,
to poverty,
to wealth.
She writes to mourn, and grief.
She writes to the wind, the rain,
forest, the desert, and mountains.
She writes to her pouring tears,
to her grateful moments,
She writes because really what she has is time.
She has no little ones to feed, or bathe,
nor a husband to make happy. To write is
to escape- to her. Time is not a problem, time
is just a killing system, she needs to kill in many words.
She writes as if there’s not much time.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Im Moving On
Save your sweet talk for when you score
Keep your monday kisses for your glass lady
I want the truth and nothing more
Im moving on, moving on youre getting phony
You didnt have to tell a white lie
You knew you scored me for life
Dont stick your finger in my pie
You know Ill see through your jive
I want the truth and nothing more
Im moving, moving on were getting phony
When you were angry you had love in your eyes
When you were sad you had dream in your voice
But now youre giving me your window smile
Im moving on, moving on its getting phony
Moving onnnnnnnnnn!
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From A Moving Train
Written by gerry beckley, 1998
Found on human nature.
Ive seen the ides of march
And Ive seen the fall of rome
Ive seen all kinds of stuff
But I never see my home
If my life-line is
These million miles of track
One thing I know by now
There is no turning back
From a moving train
From a moving train
From a moving train
From a moving train
If every venture was
A path to no avail
Id still be rolling down
This never ending trail
If we had a destination
In our sights
We would be helpless as
We passed it in the night
From a moving train (hear the engine running)
From a moving train (you can get on board)
From a moving train (hear the motor humming)
From a moving train (see, youve gotta see the light)
And if by chance you find a woman
That you might love along the way
You better hold her tight
Tell her everythings alright
Or she might jump along the way
From a moving train (hear the engine running)
From a moving train (you can get on board)
From a moving train (hear the motor humming)
From a moving train (see, youve gotta see the light)
From a moving train (hear the engine running)
From a moving train (you can get on board)
From a moving train (hear the motor humming)
From a moving train (see, youve gotta see the light)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Put The Finger On You
I put the finger on you
My hands all out of control
I cant stop it getting down on you
Its moving on its own accord
Yes, Ive got fire in my finger tips
Radiating onto you
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Its knocking on your door
And you know what its for
Chorus:
I put the finger right on you
I put the finger right on you
You put your finger on me too
Then I put the finger, I put the finger
Yeah I put the finger, I put the finger
I put the finger on you for sure
Its the key to unlocking your door, dont you know
Ive broken through your security
My hands aint tied no more, you better watch out
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Speaking up for pleasure
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Chorus
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Sneaking up on your front door
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Put it - right on you
Ill do it if you want me to
Can I put it?
I put the finger on you
I hit the spot
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet Fails
THE POET FAILS
The poet fails.
And cannot write.
Empty inside
His voice lost
No rhythm no tone
He tries to hear his way back.
Line by line
Simple words
Tries to hear his own feeling
The mind moves
But his heart does not.
The poet writes his own process of failure
Is this a poem?
Or is it merely the broken prose meditation
Of an old man who has lost his voice?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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for Tem on his last day
THE WORLD does not weep
for a quitter, no matter what
no matter how deep is your sorrow
no matter how justifying the circumstances
precipitating inside that cup of poison,
another poem is written for you
a sympathizer from another country
perhaps suffering too
like you
or us, but it will be only for a short while,
after the last word is written and read
the world moves again, spins upon itself
to complete another revolution,
nothing is achieved much, time does not tell,
but the motion keeps on moving
like a spiral, like a steep stair moving up
only to arrive at an empty room,
i believe in something else,
that someone is waiting out there
i guess, you are right, the end is reasonable,
but the means will always be questioned.
i hope you still have time to read the poem of Mike
i guess, sincerity lies there,
i still shiver about an old age that could not wait
for more time.
at the end, who knows? but you cannot tell. You are silent
as cement.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mirror Of Humanity
there is a line
in Jesus's face,
just below His eyes...
and on that line
are written the names
of all the children
in the world
dying of starvation...
there is a line
in Buddha's face,
just below his eyes....
and on that line
are written the names
of all the children
in the world
whose familes have
been killed by the
bombs and bullets.
there is a line
in my own face,
just below my eyes...
and on that line
are written the names
of all the children
in the world
i let down when
i dont do my best,
to stand up strong
for equality and peace.
have you looked in a
mirror lately?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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No Choice
right, wrong,
neat, or dirty
whatever that be
he goes for consistency
loved or unloved
hate, indifference,
reunion, departures
hellos
he goes for consistency
stay put and travel
silence noise
chaos pandemonium
he goes for consistency
moving on always moving on
with the earth in circles
revolving upon an orbit
always moving on and moving on
what choice does he have?
if he stays, he is left out
if he moves on, the horizon is edgeless
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lorelei
Written by dennis deyoung and james young
Lead vocals by dennis deyoung
When I think of lorelei my head turns all around
As gentle as a butterfly she moves without a sound
I call her on the telephone, she says be there by eight
Tonights the night shes moving in and I can hardly wait
The way she moves, ooh-ooh
I gotta say
Lorelei lets live together
Brighter than the stars forever
Lorelei lets live together
Brighter than the stars forever
Her eyes become of paradise, she softly speaks my name
She brightens every lonely night, no ones quite the same
She calls me on the telephone, she says be there by eight
Tonights the night shes moving in, its time to celebrate
The way she moves, ooh-ooh
I gotta say
Lorelei lets live together
Brighter than the stars forever
Lorelei lets live together
Brighter than the stars forever
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Therapy
Wide awakened out of spinning
Round the safest orbit
You controlled the ordinary
I was grateful for it
Wide awake in the beginning
Trembling after the fall
Only half my world remembers
While the other half revolves
Cut off cause I cant remember
A face that could cut me deeper
But hearts could never leave me bleeding
Becoming the cause and burden
The lesson begins unlearning
And it has never been forgiving my dear
Its all too familiar
Ive been here before
Ill carry this weight for your smallest reward
Because Ill continue to break down the door
Just let me in I swear
It will not be like before
Cant think of what to say
I cant think of what to do
I just think I might be losing my mind
Cant stop this agony
Cancel my therapy cause
I just thought of you
and now I feel fine
Collecting the strangest conscience
Apathy returns its offense
But only after I get moving
Relax and begin the change
In time for the newest age
To help me find out what Im missing in here
song performed by by Finger Eleven
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invincible Companion
Sometimes, you feel possessed…,
You hear voice whisper verses to your ears,
You pick your pen and write.
Sometimes, you want to add your line,
But, the voice will say; ‘No, it is not that way,
Listen very attentively, and, write’.
Sometimes, you will add your own line, and the voice
Will say, “Fine, it is alright”…,
Sometimes, you write before you think,
Sometimes, you omit some lines, then, you will have to wait
Long-temporally to get them back.
Sometimes, you get just the sketch, it becomes
An assignment to complete….
Sometimes, you argue with the voice for days
Before you turn out a piece; you listen, you think,
You write, cancel, and rewrite.
Sometimes,
When you become,
You look at the piece, and, you say, what a beautiful
Verses 1 have written.
Then, you will look back and say,
I never wrote that, I am just a tool in the hands
Of supernatural conspirators,
I am been used to respond to events,
Sometimes…
©2001
poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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Rhymes Without Reason
Ticket sales
Not ratings.
That is what moves
Most commodities.
If folks depended
On how things were rated,
There would be more quality.
And it's usually word of mouth
That someone catches a deal!
Like finding one day an appetite,
For something one writes
That has been real!
And all those 'pooped' ratings
That were high on hype,
Will tumble when their rhymes
Without reason,
Are found to lose their bite!
Especially when they are written,
By those with no clue or dropp of insight!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Don't Move Me
written by Marv Ross (words) / Marv Ross, Jack Charles & Rindy Ross (music)
The kids are hungry
And they line up and down the street
Just to catch a glimpse
Of the miracle of the week
But I knew there was something wrong
When the king had nothing on
You say that it feels right
You say that it fits tight
You say that it moves light
But it don't move me
You say that it's in time
You say that it feels fine
You say that it moves
But it don't move me-
Excuse me baby,
But I just can't catch the thrill
Of watching some joker
On the big screen make the kill
I'm sorry if it breaks your heart
But it don't tear me apart
You say that it feels right
You say that it fits tight
You say that it moves light
But it don't move me
You say that it's in time
You say that it feels fine
You say that it moves
But it don't move me-
Everybody needs a new thrill a day
And you know somebody's gonna sell it
But when the screams die down
And the dreams leave town
You're alone - you're all alone
song performed by by Quarterflash
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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