We must never throw away a bushel of truth because it happens to contain a few grains of chaff.
quote by Dean Stanley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Usual Questions In My Mind
we choose the grains
carefully
we throw the chaff
and keep those that
can satisfy us
those that can grow
again
to make us see
what was the past
all about
in the same manner
when we love?
or marriage?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Split Second
Sometimes in the heat of despair
we lost sight of perspective
It bends and curves and distorts
Like light round a black hole
and what we think of as truth is wildy out of proportion
yes the grains of truth are there running through the narrow waist of our preception
but each individual speck is not the beach, the beach is more than grains of sand
is this your last split second? will you spend it looking at a grain of sand or at the beach?
poem by Jilted BUTTERFLY
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untitled 25
morning wakes us up
with the gusts of the
winds from its
whispers,
loneliness creeps again
inside our bones
we quiver to this
we like to harvest reasons
the grains of wisdom are ripe
we take the chaff and
let them go
we are here with the purity
of what is left
and on the table now my love
we share
this grace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hour Glass
As grains start to fall, everything is new.
Nothing is known about what to do.
As the pile of grains continues to grow,
It seems easier to know which way to go.
When grains approach a quarter of the way,
Things appear less black and white versus an earlier day.
But the world is exciting and there’s plenty of time.
Any thoughts of the hour glass give way to the sublime.
Pleasure, money, power and love battle for share,
While the grains at the top become increasingly rare.
At half way flowing grains take on a resounding force,
Though few pay attention as they race on their course.
Mental and physical factors band together as reminders,
But many still prefer to continue using their blinders.
As the grains accumulate to their three quarters state,
The niave and unprepared are in for a sad, brutal fate.
They still act as if they have power over the grains and the glass.
Nothing could be more wrong as the last few grains pass.
For matter not the importance or the manner of any man
When his last grain falls, the hour glass won’t turn over again.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Throw It All Away
How could you
Just hurt me
And leave me
(leave me all alone)
How could you destroy my life
How could you throw it all away
What made you
Desert me and deceive me
Why did you just let me down
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw...
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
When I gave my all, baby
How could you throw it all away
And I gave my all
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
You destroyed my life, baby
How could you throw it all way
How could you
Just lead me
Into thinking
(thinking you would be there)
How could you destroy my heart
How could you throw it all away
I love you
Believe you
And I trusted you
(put all my trust in you)
How could you just let me down
How could you throw it all way
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Girl how could you
Throw it all away
How could you just take it all
How could you throw it all away
Oh how could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all
Throw it all away
When I gave my love
How could you throw it all away
I love you girl
You love me so
Where did we go wrong
I know that i
Gave my all to you
But somehow that wasnt good enough
How could you throw it away
How could you throw it all away
How
Throw it all away
How could you destroy my life baby
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
When I gave my all baby
How could you throw it all away
Oh, how could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all
Throw it all away
How could you destroy my life
How could you throw it all away
Oh, girl I will
How could you throw it all away
Always love you
How could you throw it all away
Forever and ever
How could you throw it all away
song performed by by 112
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Early Mornings...
every word is chosen
some discarded like chaff from the grains
but not every feeling is worth its showing
some chaffs in this perspective
are meant to be kept
somehow
when the wind comes and begins
to blow all these chaffs away
the fear is there
that some may get blinded
somehow
somewhere is a place to stay
and keep all those sad memories
bury them like the dead ants
so they cannot build their empires again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Newspaper editors are men who separate the wheat from the chaff, and then print the chaff.
quote by Adlai Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian
An editor is someone who separates the wheat from the chaff and then prints the chaff.
quote by Adlai E. Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor: a person employed on a newspaper whose business it is to seperate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor: a person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor a person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patience, Patience
the child with a black coat
on this cold day
sits there beside a brick
church of spanish
architecture
the yard is quiet except
for the sound of the flapping
of doves feedind on some
rice grains
the boy has a black hair
and his feet are stained with
mud his fingers dirty with
some sticky sauce
he spreads the rice grains
from his palm to the
muddy grounds
the doves hover and land
on the spot where the grains
are freely spread
he sits with them
surrounded
the doves are watching him
and he watches carefully each
dove that eyes on his grains
he likes to snatch just one
to bring home to mother
the doves are too careful
it is just the rice grains nothing more
eye to eye
both wait for what shall happen next
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth Through Repetition
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
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rough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth th
ough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thr
ugh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thro
gh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throu
h repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throug
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
epetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through r
petition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through re
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tition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repe
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tion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repeti
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on Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiti
n Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetitio
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For All You Are Worth
Throw off your shoes
Throw back your hair
Just lie and relax
As if i'm not there.
Throw off your cares
Throw off your woes
Just sit there and smile
And we'll see how it goes.
Throw off your pain
Throw off your hurt
Just sit there and be there
For all you are worth.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feeding The Chickens
the grains in your hands
you spread them on the ground
chickens come near you
making you feel like you are the
United States of America
and they are the countries that depend on you
those third world bastards
those colonies, those developing ones
the grains become your bombs
under your keeping
you think you are the only one who has that sole
divine right to keep these grains (yes the bombs)
inside your hands
Holy cow! Who are you? Who are YOU!
(repeat the question 10x)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: How to Treat Others
The things you do to others must be fair,
Lists unfairness should boomerang you;
Your treatment must be one of loving care,
Lest God and Nature care not for you too.
If you are just to sub-ordinate staff,
You can expect a similar return;
If you do mix the grains with stones and chaff,
God will do you sometime the same in turn.
The kind of seed you sow, so shall you reap;
The land in which you sow, so shall it give;
A heart that’s dishonest must someday weep;
If cruel be, in cruelty you live.
Life’s logic is so easy to reason,
And it must be so in any season.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(V - 2009) The Truth of the Truth
The Sages and Seers
That be and have been
Cannot have seen
The truth of the Truth!
What they see as Truth
Is Truth merely
It’s not really
The truth of the Truth!
The Ultimate Truth
Cannot be known
We aren’t that grown –
The truth of the Truth!
We’re part of the Truth
We’re trying to see
We’re yet so tiny –
The truth of the Truth!
Though hard and great
The pains we give
We cannot outlive
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to you once
Remains not the same
So changing the game –
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to a man
Is not Truth to all
That’s what we call
The truth of the Truth!
These thoughts as I pen
It’s Truth to me
It’s to me only
The truth of the Truth!
Maya
little brown birds with grey beaks and a patch of black
on their heads
three of them
drinking water on a pond of water created
by the little rain this morning
as i go near them
they all look at me and then in a sudden
they all fly away leaving some ripples in the
muddled pond
i never think of them as my enemies
they all leave at once
i do not have a gun
or a club or a slingshot
what i have in my hands are rice grains, nothing but rice grains
yes, rice grains for all of them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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