So long as I confine my thoughts to my own ideas divested of words, I do not see how I can be easily mistaken.
quote by George Berkeley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If thy words be too luxuriant, confine them, lest they confine thee. He that thinks he can never speak enough, may easily speak too much. A full tongue and an empty brain are seldom parted.
quote by Francis Quarles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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1. One
I am trying to find my poetic rhythm.
Pen my flow of thoughts.
Words running through my mind,
Ideas running through my mind.
Incoherent, Scattered and disjointed
I am trying to make words and ideas one
Create a world of words, in this world of chaos
Words running from one end
Ideas running from one end
On a path of collision
Ideas and words unite, one
One, the beginning
One, the universal beginning
One, the number of the gods
One, my first poem
poem by Anand Dixit
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Break A loving Heart
Hearts can be broken
depending on what you say.
They are very fragile
when in the game of love they play.
In a mistaken moment,
a careless word and thought
can so easily injure
and break a loving heart.
Dreams of lingering happiness
can burst as easily as a balloon
if aspirations are thrown at them
in a moment of anger
and things are said but never meant.
Take refuge in the thoughts
that what is said in anger
is not really, what people mean to say.
20 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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An Idea
An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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A stranger to most, An open book for some
[He prides himself in honesty
Doing everything he tries perfectly
All except for modesty]
Dreams and ideas fly easily in the globe of his mind
As he is quickly entranced in some knowledge only he could find
He is the only person I know cursed with understanding
Also the only one I know who is rarely ever demanding
The only person who follows gods laws without realizing it
The only person who knows when to admit
His preaching’s of war are countered by his wish to exterminate the vile
His bouts of sarcasm are run over by his urge to smile
His blatant quick judgment is overshadowed by his quick thinking
His thoughts are never ending and never sinking
It sometimes seems like he knows it all
Like no whisper could ever escape his ever heightened senses
Like no one could truly walk the halls of his mind
Like his thinking has no barriers or fences
Sometimes he forgets I can’t keep up
As his mind swiftly races from green to the age of exploration
From the economy of East Timor to Lebanon’s situation
Always steeling a glance in my direction as I look on in admiration
As he mouths the words to “From Yesterday”
His features rearrange in perfect concentration
And I didn’t understand it until today
That the words are his perfect re-creation
As he goes on of how the school is a perfect place for a sniper
His eyes shine as if he can assure the future with a simple guarantee
Seeing everything he describes like a movie in my mind
So he won’t stop talking I make sure and disagree
He is confused more than half of the time
But not in the disastrous way you think
For in his mind ideas become sublime
And all unimportant matters shrink
He hates so many things that are
And loves so many things that could never be
His many ideas seem impossible
Though we rarely truly disagree
Sadly a poem must end, or else this could get long
Though I will tell you that since I met him, my life has completely twirled
Just as the words from that song
“On his face is a map of the world”
poem by Yaritza Florencio
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An easy breath
God has sent us free on earth
So we can easily breath
Air, water, nature and land
All for free on hand
Love and beauty all in mind
Combination of it always to find
Not to confine for whatever be the caue cause
Take heavy breath, look around and pause
After all what is to stay and prevail?
What is to be left out and what is to avail?
What is on card and what is to be looked forward?
It is awarness that is to be felt and created inward
Not to confine on a particular line
Everyhing to be enjoyed and feel fine
It is God gift amd to be shared among
Forgive a cause for commiting a wrong
We are here not to dicide the course
Course that may decide destiny of course
The causes may be many but to be chosen one
Let us take it as useful for everyone
Everybody is entitled to breath freely
We have to help them to feel it easily
How can we keep anybody in cage?
Why to offer cruelty in rage?
We may love to see such things happen
It is not at all difficult even
Little thought in positive direction
It may porve as human action
We may not last long but our deeds
Millions may remember for providing feeds
What is the core value of remaining together?
It may offer scene different altogether
You may be lost and forgotten in days to come
No one may be eager or enthusiastic to welcome
Your splendid contribution and work may be rememebered
The people of your calibre may be hradly or numbered
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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You never are so easily mistaken as when you think you know the way.
We're All God's Chillun
You can’t kill ideas by slaughtering people
Just as you can’t confine God to church walls or steeple
Ideas flourish when martyrs are made
&murder is something God strictly forbade
God’s not just on my side, or your side, or theirs
God speaks all languages, answers all prayers
So ask how to do what’s eternally right
God does not condone or support any fight
There’s no child of God rated one above other
We are all each God’s children, - mother, sister, father, brother
(September,2006)
poem by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson
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Thoughts and ideas - (Talking through my hat)
Break and husk
thoughts and ideas that,
without reason,
I smashing them like nuts
into my head – mortar with pig iron pestle.
Lay and hatch
thoughts and ideas,
and younglings,
instead of fly,
I keep them under latch
in my head – cage of neurons,
dendrites and axons.
Knead and raise
thoughts and ideas
but let me tempted,
and without reason,
instead of bake them, I play
“of thieves and bobbies”
with bullets of dough
shot from my head – automatic gun.
Pull kernels out of
thoughts and ideas
but I put not them to spring
and hundredfold harvest to bring,
I chain them necklace
that my poor mind
who walks nomad
through my head – ballad
to put it neck
in a night with moon
and than to catch
in a fairies dance
and hungry of blue
to soar in the stars.
***
Thoughts and ideas
are shrieking through my mind
as lost migratory birds
in an autumn of rains.
Thoughts and ideas
- arrow-shaped cranes with wet wings -
fall all at once
in my head – moorland
of thistle and mud.
Bevies of ideas
and useless thoughts
surround my mind
how ravens give wheel
carrions to be
through my head - waste land
by boiling and winds.
Thoughts and ideas
go round
like a pack of wolves
with empty bellies
through my head – winter of frost,
winter of sleet
with my mind
thoroughly frozen
by fright and a biting wind.
Pick
bunches of thoughts and ideas
caressed by the sun of mind
in bacchanal vineyards
planted on encephalic hills.
I squish them
and expect to get wine
and get drunk
in my head – tavern where the smoke
knife just cut it
and air is sourbitter.
Fog of thoughts and ideas
rises from my mind
as darkness on swamps
in late autumn.
Nothing to see
not hear anything
all still is,
just the small brain
flickers in my head – gray curtain
between movement and inertia.
Slacked thoughts and ideas
are resting on benches of mind,
nothing pulling them
with hands and teeth,
I can’t them gather
at work to bring
to get something good
from my head – chaos
where it lacks a poleax
and a stump of elm.
poem by Viorel Petru Trifan
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Books won't stay banned. They won't burn. Ideas won't go to jail. In the long run of history, the censor and the inquisitor have always lost. The only sure weapon against bad ideas is better ideas. The source of better ideas is wisdom. The surest path to wisdom is a liberal education.
quote by Alfred Whitney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poet's Heart
A poem is like a wild rose
Your ideas bloom into something as it grows
Some your ideas flow clear and beautiful like a song
And sometimes those thoughts turn into sadness about things that go wrong
But the most important things to remember is where those ideas start.
And that is from a Poet's Heart
poem by Frank Pulver
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Books won't stay banned. They won't burn. Ideas won't go to jail. In the long run of history, the censor and the inquisitor have always lost. The only sure weapon against bad ideas is better ideas.
quote by A. Whitney Griswold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We hate the very idea that our own ideas may be mistaken, so we cling dogmatically to our conjectures.
quote by Karl Popper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words Again
Thoughts can be words, can be flowers that burgeon like words,
Thunders that are right in the middle of happiness,
Ones that make talk with books and with all speaking sense.
The sounds are not anywhere near us,
Yet the word can believe in living free,
Where actions cannot, and nor can thoughts necessarily.
We work on the words of leaders like listening is,
When speech is hazardous and non-wrong,
And liars can speak offensively, like a long long wrong.
Speech is therefore recommended in the form of words,
Of dementia I give word not or word obvious,
But of sound advice for any goodness to come and seize.
Deceased are the word-lovers as much as fences are put up,
As if the sea is given a status that delves too deep
Of words, and it is funny how many words that there are.
poem by Naveed Akram
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This Is The Game We Play
we have letters,
we spread them in our thoughts
and we form words, sometimes we like these words
to be not understood that so easily, to make a little suspense
of our game of words,
and we utter some words sometimes, so sweet sounding
our saliva pours from our mouths,
honey tasting words, a la black forest cakes,
we go beyond eating and licking and savoring,
we form words of love,
(setting aside for a while the evident
lust)
we play this game too well
no one gets hurt
plain sheets of white linen
we spread our naked bodies
we put words
using our tongues as hands
caressing hands
this is just a game of words
why do you palpitate that much?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An upright soul
Thoughts must conform to words
And words to deeds to give peace.
Good thoughts and bad words: one is
raw.
Bad thoughts and good words: one is a cheat.
Good words and bad deeds: one is
cruel.
Bad words and good deeds: one is a
barker.
Thoughts, words and deeds must not
be
In conflicts to ensure an upright soul.
25.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Could Easily Fall In Love With You
Aum aum aum aum
Aum aum aum aum
If you should tell me that I'll always be,
The one you'll always love so true.
Then I can tell you I could easily,
"I could easily fall in love with you."
It wasn't long ago I saw you there.
But even then I thought I knew,
That given half a chance I'd easily,
"I could easily fall in love with you."
I've been too long on my ownsome now.
I've been too long by myself.
I couldn't feel more lonesome now.
If I was left on the shelf.
Don't ever change that smile you're smiling now.
And please don't let me see you blue.
Then I can tell you oh so easily,
"I could easily fall in love with you."
I've been too long on my ownsome now.
I've been too long by myself.
I couldn't feel more lonesome now.
If I was left on the shelf.
Don't ever change that smile you're smiling now.
And please don't let me see you blue.
Then I can tell you oh so easily,
"I could easily fall in love with you."
Aum aum aum aum
Aum aum aum aum
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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SoUl prOviDer...inNer wHispers of my iNner thOughts...
(Sunday, January 18,2009}
I wanna be a sOul prOvider in every thOughts yOu have,
ToUching yOur inner depThs, inNer wHispers;
I wanna stay this way, hOnestly I do,
Hoping I won't get tiRed, I wOn't get weak...
The mornin' sun touches my cheeks,
As tears comes rushin' frOm deep;
Hmn...bite my liPs, bOw my heAd,
Hoping the sUn won't see my weep!
But I am a sOul prOvider to each and everyOne,
Extending my inner thoughts, read between the lines;
If anyOne is haUnted by my words, I apOlogize,
Am jUst sharing the inNer whispers of my inNer thOughts;
Hoping I am not mistaken nor misleading yOu, my friends! .
poem by InNer WhisPers
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Learn thoughts, not words.
Good in thoughts, not so in words,
Good in words and not so in thoughts
Human beings tend to be.
Thoughts are the binding force, not words.
Sincerity lies in thoughts
28.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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