To write regular verses destroys an infinite number of fine possibilities, but at the same time it suggests a multitude of distant and totally unexpected thoughts.
quote by Paul Valery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Lines consist of an infinite number of points; planes an infinite number of lines; volumes an infinite number of planes, hypervolumes an infinite number of volumes... No, this, this more geometrico, is definitely not the best way to begin my tale. Affirming a fantastic tale's truth is now a story-telling convention; mine, though, is true.
Jorge Luis Borges in The Book of Sand (1975)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Creases
Falling to pieces
Fold up in creases
Baron trees bending with breeze
No wonder they have no leaves
My mind is a waste land with not thoughts
No thoughts than can hold my attention
Staring at the sky
Thinking if only i
Now i have a thought
No its gone again
Okay just relax and think again
Time to clear my mind
Think of a better time
Well they are a distant memory now
So have i succumbed to being alone to long
Have all my thoughts and emotions
Packed up and gone
Have i been lost from reality way to long
Is it to late to start anew
Can i return to the person i once new
This void i have deep in me
Its not of lost love cause i choose to be free
So what is this void that is emptying me
Maybe my life has gone stale and old
Needing something new excitement to take hold
I know i am just a number
A number in this game
What number am i
Are there numbers the same
Is there someone out there just like me
Seeking the answers of what they should be
Time will tell
Is there enough time to discard this shell
Shell of a life i have been living
Always waiting for a new beginning
How dose that happen how do i start
Where do i enroll how do i take part
Live life to the fullest enjoy every day
How can you do this when you dont know the way
My days are of writing and writing how i feel
Is there nothing left to write about
Nothing more to feel
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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I wish I lived on a planet that had two suns---regular sun and 'rogue' sun. That way, when somebody asked me what time it was, I'd say, 'Regular time' And they'd say, 'Yeah.' And I'd say, 'Sorry, all I have is rogue time.' It'd be fun to be a stuck-up rogue-time guy.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brephos
Although it is easy for one to think, it is not always easy for one to write
Not all thoughts can be expressed into words, nor should they. Rousseau said in his solitary walks or was it his confessions? That his most beautiful thoughts died in him as quick as he thought them and how he at the time wished he had a pen in hand to write them all down. Those thoughts are dead, but perhaps those same thoughts are born in others written down somewhere in all of infinite time. Some thoughts like some lives are not meant to be born. The seed of this thought, watered by my serene tears, germinates in my soul as I write this letter. Still I can't find the words to express its beauty, its paradox, its mystery. The seed germinates but no plant is born, no flower blooms. For every child that isn't born, for every thought trapped in the moral order nature's thought; the ineffable, the unborn, the unknown, I hope one day you find expression and tell the world what you are and what beauty really is—To eloquence that never speaks, to thought that never thinks, to life that never lives, in my heart you speak, think and live.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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I think there is some kind of divine order in the universe. Every leaf on every tree in the world is unique. As far as we can see, there are other galaxies, all slowly spinning, numerous as the leaves in the forest. In an infinite number of planets, there has to be an infinite number with life forms on them. Maybe this planet is one of the discarded mistakes. Maybe it's one of the victories. We'll never know.
quote by John D. MacDonald
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wilderness Within My Soul
Frenzy, prairies and an open screen,
endless with infinite possibilities,
I have not mortal greed and hypocrisy,
there is wildness here totally free,
free of judgment and weapons of deceit,
the trees glow with the sun's dying dreams,
animals wild and free, their voices do softly creep,
embracing the breeze with their symphonies,
Hunger, lust and reckless abandon in an animalistic scene,
Imagine a creek pulsating with ecstasy,
rushing with endless purpose into its scream,
the buzz of a bee and the scowl of an owl,
the prowl of a panther and majesty of them all,
free me from this mortal destruction, and diabolical greed,
unite in me my wilderness aflame in a distant unhurried dream....!
Tangled Dreams
Your words tangle my thoughts,
Winding them together so tight,
Yet giving me the strength,
To imagine possibilities,
Possibilities my mind refuses,
To even spend two seconds of my time thinking of,
You entwine me into your web of hope,
Confused yet hopeful,
For the destiny awaiting me through this fog.
A fog cast only by you.
poem by Zoe Howarth
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Two Thousand
I've reached a milestone some might say
but to me it's just become my way
to pass my time with rhythm and rhyme
and deliver my thoughts to you.
When I wrote my very first poem
I felt I'd just been born.
I fearfully put my pen on the page
on an early morn
and my thoughts just literally flew.
It's become my way to have my say
about everything under the sun.
And now that I've written 2,000 of them
I still revere number one.
For it was my poetic debut.
Will I stop here and lay the pen aside
or will the ink still flow?
Most certainly I will write some more
for poetry to me is a rainbow.
It appears right out of the blue.
It's beautiful, mysterious
and filled with color.
So I accept the fact it's a milestone
but know that I'm not through.
I'll get up tomorrow morning
and write some more for you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Zero Covers All
Lately I realize.
I am a numb number,
living through life.
First child.
Date of birth.
Sixth star of twenty-seven.
Scorpio numbers six of twelve.
Studied tenth class,
Then 5-year’s graduation,
Every class I had a scroll number.
Exams written on id number.
Studied law.
Head churning three years,
with numbered sections.
Penal code, constitution.
Clauses of law in numbered sects.
Registered in bar council.
Legal practice.
Case files are numbered.
Subsequently I got,
House number, door number.
Phone number.
Mobile number.
Account numbers.
Credit card number.
Pan card number,
Folio numbers,
Car number,
License number,
Policy number,
Health card number,
Election card number,
Passport number,
Ration card number,
Ultimately, when you put me in morgue,
allotted me a number.
Which, I do no know.
However, I know a number.
I am a big zero.
It covers all my life
Yes, we discovered zero.
What a relief?
Does it not cover all?
fulfill all values!
By the way your number please?
X number or N number?
Infinite numbers.
________________
poem by Satheesan Rangorath
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Writing Poetry Is A Cosmic Trip (Italian Sonnet)
Writing Poetry Is A Cosmic Trip (Italian Sonnet)
Writing poetry is a cosmic trip
There are infinite possibilities
Its like sailing a ship upon the seas
You never know what will roll off your lip
There are times you have to shoot from the hip
It's easy to write about birds and bees
Its hard when you write about ticks and fleas
People want to read what's modern and hip
Most cultures change as time goes rolling by
The arts are constantly evolving too
The artist must always be flexible
He must be like the fox cunning and sly
A poet is a master of word cull
He should not think can I he must just do
Edwin Tanguma (10/06/2011)
poem by Edwin Tanguma
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From Mighty Pen
It will not only be evaluated
But in all the directions circulated
Each word read and assessed
The thought behind it accepted and chased
Whatever you write
May not lead to fight
But may be preserved
As you have deserved
Write up is perfect
Speak of good act
One should have always dreamed
Thought of and assumed
Write with pen and pencil
But never mention it as nil
It may make final impression
Fine border with embroidery relation
So to speak less and do more
Some thoughts are needed therefore
To write and leave it for others
To think, act or otherwise bother
Write, write and write
That shall ignite
Your hidden talent
To make solid movement
Readers may not appreciate quickly
But may accept views happily
As it has come from a mighty pen
At a time when needed from noble man
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Command of the Language
I have the command of the language
When it comes to frisky sex and
Mathematics,
For I adore every conic section
Of your perfectly proportioned
Surface area-
From your sumptuous cones
To your magnificent ellipses,
And the congruent circles
Of your areolas-
Hidden by the hyperbolic veneer
Of your bra and your symmetric
G-string,
Don't get me wrong, for I've
Studied the subtle dimensions
Of your curvature,
And went off on many a tangent,
Deriving your continuous
Sexual functions,
That led me to your delta of Venus,
As my y changed with your x,
In the act of orgasmic
Integration-
Since then I've learned
That pi is truly a transcendental
Number,
That no rational number can
Approximate,
And you are boundless
In your beauty,
Opening up my mind
To infinite possibilities.
January 12,2008
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knowing you might some day come
Knowing you might some day come
and how unprepared I’ve always
been
like Mr. Sloppy
in Charles Dickens’
our Mutual Friend
I made a list:
not meat, vegetables, beer and pudding
but number l, warmth.
number 2, warmth.
number 3, warmth.
number 4, a good snuggler.
number 5, someone who sings
while he/she works.
number 6, a dancer.
number 7, someone who grows & is
intrigued by
the mind. And
by the spirit too.
Number 7, someone who is loved
by animals; and loves
them back without
a thought.
number 8, someone who smells
delicious.
number 9, someone whose anger
lasts no longer than mine.
number 10, someone who
stands beside me. behind me. If necessary
in front of me.
number 11, someone who
is a passable cook.
number 12, Someone who laughs
a lot, thinks I have a fine
sense
of humor
& has friends.
number 13, someone who can be
original in dress:
stylish
warlock –In silver, lapis
& black – to my witch.
poem by Alice Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Totally Hot
(john farrar)
I want you
But takin it easy aint an easy thing to do
And I want you, want you
You must know
Cause baby I cant begin to keep it in
Our love is so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Baby, baby, so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Gimme what you got, ready or not
Our love is totally hot
Im burnin up
And if my mama could read my mind shed lock me up
And Im burnin, burnin
You must know
Cause baby when youre around I come unwound
Our love is so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Baby, baby, so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Gimme what you got, ready or not
Out love is totally hot
Play the game and let me do the same
And we gonna get along, gonna get along, gonna get along fine
Watchin out for my heart
But when I am near you
Near you aint the place to start, no, no, no, no
Takin it slow
Whenever I cross your trail, my brakes just fail
My love is so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Baby, baby, so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Gimme what you got, ready or not
My love is totally hot
My love is so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Baby, baby, so hot, totally hot
You got to me
Gimme what you got, ready or not
My love is totally hot
Gimme what you got, ready or not
My love is totally, totally, totally hot
(repeats)
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Thought
Don't you hate it when nothing comes to mind
Can't even write one single line.
So many thoughts all entertwine
Can't even write one single line
Look at this page so white and fine
Can't even write one single line
Just had to think and take my time
(11.30.12)
poem by Earl Spencer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.
It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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Totally. Totally. Totally Bummed
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Significant this feeling is,
Hard to overcome.
When an aging is apparent,
And nothing can be done.
And when one has a wisdom,
One developes more and more...
The pressure to pretend there isn't,
Can not be ignored.
Oh, totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Being now an elder,
Overnight has stunned.
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
No more looking 26.
Overnight has stunned.
Disappearing quick was 36.
Overnight has stunned.
And the 46 that came...
Picked up 56 and split.
And now I can't believe it,
I am elderly legit.
Oh, totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Being now an elder,
Overnight has stunned.
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Being now an elder,
Overnight has stunned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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See Me Tonight,
time,
time has taken another turn,
time make's a man, time save's a man,
time is so infinite time can never fade,
time move's on and on with the infinite timing,
My time here is to shine by the light,
the anguish and affliction's has to end because
we trust our heavenly father,
By the value of God
we value time that giveth us the infinite life.
poem by Maxim Muyu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nature Destroys Nature
Nature destroys Nature in storms and earthquakes
Man destroys man on the battlefield
And man destroys Nature because of the blood that they shed
Sinks, to the center of the Earth
Man destroys Nature far more worse
Than Nature destroys it’s self
Therefore we must do
What we can
To save Nature
Before it’s completely destroyed
And therefore,
Leaving us with nothing to cherish.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat. Norville.
Cretics Welcome
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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