In my world, history comes down to language and art. No one cares much about what battles were fought, who won them and who lost them - unless there is a painting, a play, a song or a poem that speaks of the event.
quote by Theodore Bikel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Best Poem In The World
The best poem in the world
will never be read
when everyone is writing
The best song in the world
will never be heard
when everyone is singing
The best painting in the world
will never be seen
when everyone is painting
The best performance in the world
will never be witnessed
when everyone is acting
However a world where the best poem
is burried in a stack of poems
the best song drowned out
by a million voices
the best painting lost in a gallery
streatching out as far as the eye can see
And the best preformance
competing with limitless preformances
will not be sacrificed
for an artless world
poem by Svanhildur Njálsdóttir
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The Poem That Speaks Of Nothing
The poem that speaks of nothing
Tells of nothing convoluted at all.
It has no need of metering,
Or of emotions that rise and fall.
The poem that has no content
Lacks subject matter to cover.
So forget the flowers that you sent
To your faithful lover.
The poem devoid of plot
Has no farfetched tale to tell.
There’s no mention of battles fought
Against the very spawn of Hell.
The poem in absence of metaphors
Is not written by someone who will
Tell of reposing forevermore
Or of running naked through the hill.
The poem that speaks of nothing
Dares not mention the roaring sea.
And the poem that speaks of nothing
That is the poem for me.
(veritas h.s.2005)
poem by William Mcgehee
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Going Home
This is a world war I song. world war I fascinates me because it was such a shock to the world. nothing before or since has come close. it was a horrible, horrible event. it was modern weaponry
Avalry and then tanks. they fought for four years over a hundred yards, some ridiculously small amount of ground. its the stupidest event in history.
This is one of those songs that I just cant sing - its right in one of the cracks in my range. so we did it to approximate what a recording of that era would sound like. I know mitchells
G to get blamed in some review for using all these effects, but we did it because I simply cant sing the thing.
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem For All
I am
Looking around, all the time
Just as before, for a poem
A balanced poem, without sides
A poem without inclination, non-biased
A poem without pigmentation, colourless
A poem without religion, faithless
A poem without a nation, stateless
A poem devoid of immigration officers, borderless
A poem without language, speechless, silent
I am
Looking around all the time
Just as before, for that poem
Everyone’s poem, everyone’s song!
poem by Isaac Maliya
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Poem Versus Prose
You do not like this poem
And I do not like your prose
Enough with your predicates
And your subjects
In this poem you will find
No commas and semicolons
This poem
Is armed with rhythms
Stanzas and shifts
This poem has no end
There are no colons
In this poem
Your prose is replete with nuances
This poem echoes
The plight of the oppressed
And dispossessed
In your prose I find parentheses
This poem speaks of life
Your prose can be edited
Cut this poem and it bleeds
You do not like this poem
And I do not like your prose
Prose has pauses and hyphens
Prose comes to a stop
This poem plugs images
Even in your head
Prose deals with fiction
And nonfiction
This poem can be heard
It can be felt
It speaks of hunger
Of hopelessness
Homelessness
It speaks of a bitter reality
You do not like this poem
poem by Buxton Shippy
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That Money Speaks Every Language
That money speaks every language has often been said before
And what also applies to money is much always wants more
And that moneyed people rule the World is something we all know
The more money they accumulate the more their power does grow.
Compared to those in poverty the millionaires seem few
And in saying that money speaks every language is not saying anything new
For every millionaire there is thousands in poverty
It is money and the lack of it that causes inequality.
That with money speaks every language most surely would agree
That's how it was and that's how it is and that's how 'twill always be
The poor sad pauper of the street to greatness none inspire
It is those who have heaps of money that others do admire.
Their dreams of success and wealth and fame so many do pursue
And that money speaks every language so happens to be true
For the poor of the poor suburb success seems far away
And the gap between the haves and the have nots is widening by the day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Music Sings Within Me
Music speaks my language
what ever mood im in
passion
or sadness
music sings within
music calms my troubles
shows ever possible ending
with lyrics to different songs
music sings within
music shows me friendship
like happiness
and to never leave my side
music sings within
music sings within me
it speaks my language
calms my troubles
shows me friendship
music sings within
theres not one song that represents me
or my oh but unique life
theres not one song
thats dark enough
for those silly little fights
but bright enough for when i see you
not one song shows
how i feel when
i write along my arms
or when i lay currled up in a ball on a cold winters day
music sings within me
diffrent lyrics for everyday
this is the song of my life
i choose when to press
stop, pause, or play.
poem by Katie Norton
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My Almighty Comes To Defend With A Rescue
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
I...
Do believe,
My Creator has a plan for me.
Without those battles,
Fought straddled to a saddle.
And I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.
No I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ronald Reagan's well documented final battles with Alzheimer's disease were fought with the same conviction and courage that his many public battles were fought.
quote by William L. Jenkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poems vs Songs
I may be right or I may be wrong
But, when you hear a singer singing a song
It is his or her voice that carries a message
With music providing an easier passage
To a space behind the eardrums
Resulting often in a rhythmical shaking
Of hips and boobs and flailing of arms
I may be wrong or I may be right
When you read a good poem it brings you delight
The rhyming of words makes poem tick
Your imagination does the trick
The poem's message illuminates the mind
Translating human language into language divine
When I'm writing my poetry, whether poem or song
The former always comes right and the latter wrong.
poem by Slava Olchevski
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A Poem's Language
a poem has it's own language
if a poet uses the glamour of the language
in his poem...the language
would stand out
if a poet shows his versatality over the language
in his poem...the poet
would stand out
the poet and the language should
lose themselves in the poem...for
the poem to speak it's own language
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is in a language?
Language carries in it the history of a people
The history that begins way before
The conception of that particular language
Every myth, idiom, or story told carries
In it the memories of an ancient infancy
Of a development that comes in stages
As that of a child crawling, walking
Developing a thought, a philosophy
Creating poetry and song
What is in a language is not just relevant
To the people that use it, but it is also relevant
To the entire community of languages
Like the fragments of a great puzzle
Every language has in it the bits and pieces
Lessons to be learned; things significant
To the history of mankind, things significant
To the growth and development of all
poem by LLM Mbatha
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Fear Is The Key
We live our lives in fever
In a choking sweat of fear
In the heat of the night you can feel so much
In the heat of the night I scream dont touch!
I remember a time when we used and abused
And we fought all our battles in vain
I remember a time we thought that passion was free
In the heart of the night... bodies aflame
We live in fever...
I hear your secret heartbeat
I can hear your silent cries
The kids have lost their freedom
And nobody cares til somebody famous dies
I remember a time when we used and abused
And we fought all our battles in vain
I remember a time we thought that passion was free
In the heart of the night... bodies aflame
Now we live in a world of uncetainty
Fear is the key - to what you want to be
You dont get a say the majority gets its way
Youre outnumbered by the bastards till the day you die...
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War Never Solves Anything
Of battles won and noble soldiers you hear the old balladeer sing
But war only brings death and suffering and war never solves anything
And the mental scars of war keep festering long after the battle does end
You badly injure or kill someone's loved one that person will not be your friend.
For God and the flag of their Nation too many in battle have died
And the Government honour war heroes in their false show of patriotic pride
But the fact is their young lives were wasted and the fact with us sadly remain
That old battles are never over and for old grieviances human blood spilt again.
War weaponry and explosives big business in a World where human life is taken cheap
By some a human life seen as of no more value than that of a cow's or a sheep
From history we have not learned the war supposed to end all wars long gone
Yet every day more violence and terror and war and war mongering lives on.
Of battles won and acts of war bravery so many songs written and sung
And war instigated by old men must always be fought by the young
But the song for the young dead war hero to the hero's mum to it has a bitter ring
And war is a waste of human life for war never solves anything.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Do We Remember Them?
We remember our fathers
They remember their sons
Who fought long battles
And paid with their lives
We remember the glories
We have forgotten the pain, ,
of the widows and orphans,
of those who will never return again.
We remember the machinery
With which battles were fought
But the names of the fallen
Are all but forgot.
We remember, we say
With the crimson petalled poppy
And silence at eleven
On Remembrance Day
But of all the boys and men
Who fought wars large and small
Paying dearly with their lives
Do we really remember them, at all?
9 Nov 1986
poem by David Harris
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Bear With Me
The operator girl
kept saying this to me
over the phone
while waiting for her
to finish her assignment
I requested for her to do
but she kept saying
'Bear with me, bear with me...'
I thought to myself
what do I have to bear with
only a phone call bill
at the end of the month...
and a little patience
for this girl to finish her job?
but she is so sweet to say
such words that warm my heart
in the end
what do I have to bear with now?
A new light shined on me
with this man as sweet as this girl
who keeps saying
'Bear with me, bear with me...'
but this man is not English speaker
so he can't say
'Bear with me.'
but he is the rekindled heart
that was brought forth
in my life now
but I don't have to bear with it
nor suffer through with it
but just a zest or play
some kids might enjoy doing
with their friends
I also became a child
to play the play things
with him
so delightful to hear him say
in my language
that was forgotten in me
for so long
but now returned a new
in different form of language
a new language
Living in two language worlds
made me forget all the things
that were inherent in that language
but now they are returned and refreshed a new
in this fellow a new fiery light
who is he?
I don't quite well know
but is better than the one who kept
saying to me over the phone
on one fine day
'I love you! I so much love you,
that's all I want to say to you
to let you know..'
He didn't give me his name nor
his identity but only the empty 'I Love You's
over the phone in one afternoon
but this new light-shine on me
a new friend is not saying such stupid words
but things he needs to know
needs to say and do
Those are the ones he only says
and the language he speaks is so refreshing
and renews my heart
the lost words
in me returned through him.
Hello, friend,
are you gonna stay around for a long time
or are you gonna go away and
not return..
only he is the one who will answer this question.
So today I bear with this girl
who is doing a job for me
and who is sweet enough to say
such sweet words to me
that brought me another poem like this
this morning.
No more of suffering
no more of bearing
but simple facts and duties to fulfill
life's journey has ended here
and job well done,
done with.
10: 07am Korea-Japan Time
(November 9,2012)
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Money Is Most Important
At the top of people's new year's wish list you won't find poverty
For money speaks every language as most would agree
A lack of money in people causes low self esteem
Money is the most important thing to most it does seem
Yes money is the most important thing
The praises of a pauper you will not hear one sing
Music, song and dance may be food of the soul
But people with plenty of money of power have control
And of the World that we live in it does seem sad to say
That money speaks every language in the World of today
Yes money to many it does matter most
To a pauper anyone does not drink a toast
And you will not find many to embrace poverty
Money is most important as most would agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Who Cares?
Tell me, jesus,
Are you angry?
One more sheep has,
Just gone astray
A hardening of hearts,
Turning to stone
Wandering off,
So far from home
So many children,
Losing time
Walk in darkness,
Looking for a sign
Chasing their rainbows,
The future looks so bright
Slowly were losing,
Sight of the light
Who cares?
Who cares?
Who cares?
Tell me who cares?
Who cares?
All alone,
Out in the cold
Cant look back,
Am I growing old
I chose a path,
Is this my fate
Am I finding out,
The truth too late
Chorus
Here I am,
A naked man
Nothing to hide
With empty hands
Remember me,
I am the one
Who lost his way,
Your prodigal son
Who cares?
Who cares?
Who cares?
Tell me who cares?
Who cares?
Am I ever gonna change
Will I always stay the same
Say one thing
Then I do the other
Same old song
Goes on forever
Rise, rise n shine
A new day is coming
Yes it is!
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Part Iii: Who Cares?
Tell me, jesus,
Are you angry?
One more sheep has,
Just gone astray
A hardening of hearts,
Turning to stone
Wandering off,
So far from home
So many children,
Losing time
Walk in darkness,
Looking for a sign
Chasing their rainbows,
The future looks so bright
Slowly were losing,
Sight of the light
Who cares?
Who cares?
Who cares?
Tell me who cares?
Who cares?
All alone,
Out in the cold
Cant look back,
Am I growing old
I chose a path,
Is this my fate
Am I finding out,
The truth too late
Chorus
Here I am,
A naked man
Nothing to hide
With empty hands
Remember me,
I am the one
Who lost his way,
Your prodigal son
Who cares?
Who cares?
Who cares?
Tell me who cares?
Who cares?
Am I ever gonna change
Will I always stay the same
Say one thing
Then I do the other
Same old song
Goes on forever
Rise, rise n shine
A new day is coming
Yes it is!
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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