The stitch of a book is its words.
quote by Rumer Godden
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A Pocket Handkerchief To Hem
A pocket handkerchief to hem -
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!
How many stitches it will take
Before it's done, I fear.
Yet set a stitch and then a stitch,
And stitch and stitch away,
Till stitch by stitch the hem is done -
And after work is play!
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Stiches
Sew me back together
Make every stitch clean
Pull the thread tighter
I'm ripping from the seams
Come quickly whoever you are
And stitch back together my heart
poem by Sydney Bell
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Stitches
Sew me back together
Make every stitch clean
Pull the thread tighter
I'm ripping from the seams
Come quickly whoever you are
And stitch back together my heart
poem by Zara Youtz
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Book Of Black Holes
You be on yourside
I'll be on my side
In between there is a book
the book of Black Holes
You sling your arrows
I'll dodge the harrows
And then I'll record it
In the book of Black Holes
There be many pages
that goes through many stages
In the end you may find it
In the book of Black Holes
If it's a five or ten
Even a zero I win
And I have recorded it
In the book of Black Holes
Your comments cryptic
Your words haze, eliptic
And like I said goes down
In the book of Black Holes
Your choice to be insipid
Your dreams are timid
Compared to what's collected
In my book of Black Holes
poem by Midnights Voice
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Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts--the book of their deeds, the book of their words and the book of their art.
quote by John Ruskin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts - the book of their deeds, the book of their words and the book of their art.
quote by John Ruskin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Wise Pink Book.
Oh! The wise little pink book,
Which contain the wise words and pictures,
Where my love lies,
And ma heart lay its head.
How shall I forget about you?
You the mother of ma heart,
Oh! My heart soothers.
Which soothes every pimple that causes agony in ma heart.
You’re my photos album,
when I want to see ma boom,
You contain pictures of ma heart,
From head to toe,
I love you so much, little pink book.
You’re my dictionary,
Whenever I need any love word’s meaning,
Ma love encyclopedia,
To calm my psycho-phobia.
I love you little pink book,
You have been the source of my comfort,
When ma heart was in trouble,
I can’t forget about you,
Little wise pink book.
You are everything,
You are the promise we make,
A phone-family we set-up,
Oh! Little pink book,
You are the CPA of our love.
I love you little pink book.
My eyes shall not let down,
Neither will my heart fail you,
For your words pass through my eyes down to ma heart surpassing my brain,
I love you, little pink book.
My life is yours, little pink book.
poem by Constant's Laiv
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A Stitch In Time
I work in dark factories --- a cog in the big wheel
Driving grey satanic mills and weaving sad stories.
And faceless masters --- oh, they pay me plenty ---
Crumbs from their luncheon packs, harsh wine from
Bottles halk empty.
A stitch in time saves nine.
Said cock robin from the wall.
Its an early bird catches the worm.
Show a little pride before you fall.
So I flew to the south sun with birds of a feather
To drink in the warm nights and tell of fine weather.
A stitch in time saves nine.
Listen all you young folk --- your lives on a timetable
Clocking on twenty-one --- fly while youre able.
A stitch in time saves nine.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfection is an unattainable goal. It isn't going to be perfect. Just get words down on paper, and when you stumble to what you think is the end of the book, you will have hundreds of pages of words that came out of your head. It may not be perfect, but it looks like a book.
quote by Laurell K. Hamilton
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Why.............?
The American book of 'why',
The Asian book of 'why',
The European book of 'why',
The African book of 'why',
The Australian book of 'why',
The most asked question in the valley of world events;
Especially when one explodes a bomb!
The Christian book of 'why',
The Muslim book of 'why',
The Jewish book of 'why',
The Hindu book of 'why',
The Krishna book of 'why',
lLife is like the yeast which makes the bread rise;
But, the writer always has his or her own mind.
The Pagan book of 'why',
The Buddhist book of 'why',
The Protestant book of 'why',
The Confucian book of 'why',
To all life's aspects with the remaining books of 'why';
Poetry is the literature that muses with the mind.
Shall the trumpet be blown in the city and,
The people will not be afraid?
Seven bulls and seven rams,
I am the planted tree by the rivers of waters.
I am very young in years but,
The word 'why' is the question that goes around easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Lover's Gifts LVI: The Evening Was Lonely
The evening was lonely for me, and I was reading a book till my
heart became dry, and it seemed to me that beauty was a thing
fashioned by the traders in words. Tired I shut the book and
snuffed the candle. In a moment the room was flooded with
moonlight.
Spirit of Beauty, how could you, whose radiance overbrims the
sky, stand hidden behind a candle's tiny flame? How could a few
vain words from a book rise like a mist, and veil her whose voice
has hushed the heart of earth into ineffable calm?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The poets confession
The book is my bind
And the words my oath
The poem my life
And verse my bride
It is to my work I’m wed
To who I give my all
What love can contend
To that I once dreamt
I have known and loved
My every muse
And spoken to none
Not once did I confess
My heart unto them
No I stayed my tongue
Kept still my words
And in a madness
I wrote this world
I am a tale of my own creation
Bound to the book
The poets confession
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Fading Tunes
i keep singing the same song
for the low pitch but the tune so long
i cling on to the whirling wind
never mind life at it's own speed
After all;
History buries no heroes
Age admits no zeroes
the dead are only weighty kilos
Nevertheless...
our time always comes
surely our prides always hurls
yet our wickedness ever curls
After all, We are just human
Every man with a half rib for a woman
a stitch by stitch is a full human
flesh for immortal soul makes us strong
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Switch
When dawn snuffs out sleep's candlelight
one's memory retains as bright
far fog framed phantom image which
imprints its background stitch by stitch
upon the mind – dream drawn despite
the evidence that day and night
defy comparison. The switch
from focus when the rest is pitch
to depth of vision often might
seem trite when gift of second sight
ungranted is or atrophies.
Soul inner cecity defies,
“necessity” denies. Heart seeks
beyond the ken of highest peaks.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Best Book In The World
the best book
in the world
the only true book
is the world itself
the Book of Nature
the best book is the silence
the wordless-ness in
the clouds and the sky
and the rivers and the oceans
and the lands
and the grass that breaks through the concrete;
and in the deserts and the volcanoes
and the stars
and the moon
and the creatures of the earth
and in all fellow beings
and the vastness beyond
and the vastness within
the best book
the only true book
(every other book is distortion)
is the world itself
the Book of Nature:
read it
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Books Of Words
A new height has been achieved
By the tall men and tall women,
The people of the book that was raised
From the grounds of the school.
A new mind has occurred from imagining
The books and words and letters,
Shining forth from the page of its master
And writer who wrote the achievement.
We are history and time, we combine to feed
The mouths of our children,
As more of a book is studied by them,
More words are taught to their ears.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Words say so much
Words are everywhere you look
in the paper and in the book
we all use them when we speak
in languages like French and Greek.
A baby uses them to speak to it's Mum
that's why she knows it wants talc on it's bum
but teenagers say words we don't understand
and singers sing them like Elvis and Streisand.
People lose their temper and shout and cuss
like when they stub a toe or miss a bus
that's when swear words can be heard
words you won't find in the Times crossword.
Someone who's drunk will talk in a strange way
these words can be heard in pubs on a Saturday
there's short words, and some which are long,
and some words that are nearly always spelt wong.
But that's enough words for now I'll put down my pen,
it's the end, over, ceased, finished, stopped, AMEN.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Sovereignty
Living
someone's else death?
Was that an explicit experiment?
Starting with an Adonis
to stitch
the wounds of angels.
An unlikely
walk through the tumor
of breast, where
no milk ejects
the ancestory. I hold
the words without meaning.
It was a tragic
flow of history.
The echo was searching a sky.
poem by Satish Verma
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