Discussing how old you are is the temple of boredom.
quote by Ruth Gordon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War is Boredom
War is Boredom
War is Boredom
War can be defined as long periods of boredom, short burst of terror, seemingly lasting forever, To those who are there, Waiting for another outburst, which never seems to cease.
You Pray, you count all your blessings, the outgoing not what you fear, its the incoming that can't be trusted.
War can be defined as boredom, for those who's life was spared, as the days in between that matters, on those who life spent there.
2008
poem by Charles Garcia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Body Is A Temple
They say your body is a temple, and I found
This to be true, for in my temple I found you.
I felt your soul surround me like a mist
On a foggy day, and right then I knew
That in my heart forever you would stay.
My body is a temple and
You are the foundation
you control my heart
And every sensation.
Now this temple had become a temple of two
For it belonged to me and you.
We built this temple for all the world to see
That thru love this is the way it should be.
When you’ve shared the most precious
Moments that GOD did provide
When not on all topics did we see eye to eye
When in sickness you was the comforting stone
And you know that you’re not alone.
When that temple seems to be falling apart
And you‘ve lost all hope in your heart.
When it seems like you have no other place to go
And your thoughts are moving slow
That is when you turn to the lord above
To show you how to rekindle that love.
The body is a temple and in it I found you
And with your strength I know what I have to do.
I will rebuild this temple with the love of my life
For you are my partner, my lover, my wife.
poem by Louis Rams
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The life of the creative man is lead, directed and controlled by boredom. Avoiding boredom is one of our most important purposes.
quote by Susan Sontag
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memory Of The Unknown Poet, Robert Boardman Vaughn
But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
T. S. ELIOT
It was his story. It would always be his story.
It followed him; it overtook him finally—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
Probably at the end he was not yet sorry,
Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley.
It was his story. It would always be his story,
Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury,
But signifying, O signifying magnificently
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
I picture the snow as falling without hurry
To cover the cobbles and the toppled ashcans completely.
It was his story. It would always be his story.
Lately he had wandered between St. Mark’s Place and the Bowery,
Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly.
O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
All done now. But I remember the fiery
Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry.
It was his story and would always be his story—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
poem by Donald Justice
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Only the most acute and active animals are capable of boredom. - A theme for a great poet would be God's boredom on the seventh day of creation.
quote by Lewis Cass
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your true traveller finds boredom rather agreeable than painful. It is the symbol of his liberty - his excessive freedom. He accepts his boredom, when it comes, not merely philosophically, but almost with pleasure.
quote by Aldous Huxley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boredom Is Death's Luxury
BOREDOM IS DEATH'S LUXURY
Boredom is Death's Luxury,
The idle wasting of an idle life.
What Chance do we have to dream
When inside all is
Empty and Ended
Lost?
Oh we will begin again somehow, somewhere else.
But today now inside
Is only this Nowhereness
This Endless Stillness
This Nothingness.
Boredom is the Horror of Everyday Life
I feel this now so deeply
as I write this.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am A Cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche you've seen before
I am a cliche that lives next door
I am a cliche you know what I mean
I am a cliche pink is obscene
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche you've seen before
I am a cliche that lives next door
I am a cliche you know what I mean
I am a cliche pink is obscene
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely:
Lonely,
So, so lonely,
I feel like that flower I seen today,
It was in a yard surrounded by nothing but weeds and grass, none of his flower friends were out with him swaying along with him in the breeze,
So he was swaying all alone in the breeze.
Lonely,
Lonely,
So, so lonely,
Along with the loneliness, comes along boredom,
To make me feel even worse,
Great!
Fabulous!
My boredom is growing old,
So, so old,
I am about to scream,
So as not to be board anymore,
Who is with me?
On this road of pure boredom?
poem by Sherry Painter
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The World Is Moving And You Are Standing Still
“THE WORLD IS MOVING AND YOU ARE STANDING STILL”
It’s still right, Dad,
After all the years,
‘The world is moving and I am standing still’
I feel them all going by
They are working and earning big sums
They are meeting with others in their field
And discussing and discussing -
They are being important and self- important in whatever they do-
And I am standing still
Still nowhere-
Only now so much older and far too late to really go anywhere
I am standing still-
They are going by-
They are getting places-
I am getting nowhere-
Just more and more of the same old hiding inside my own words-
They are going by and faster and farther than ever-
And I am still here trying to move and standing still
‘Standing still’ it now appears
All the way to the grave. ¬
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If there are dominant teams, people enjoy discussing whether that's good or bad for the game, and if there aren't any dominant teams, then people enjoy discussing that.
quote by Al Michaels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'The Cornerstone
Rejected of men for being too good
we crucified you on a cross of wood
But Your Father had other plans for You
for the temple was to be built anew
A building not made of rock or of stone
but one made up of Christians alone
Built of people saved by the grace of God
the Cornerstone is Jesus Christ the Lord
A great temple not built by human skill
but made up of those who follow God's will
The living temple of Your body Lord
because its' builder and maker is God
To build it the old temple had to go
through death so that You could raise it up so.
This is marvellous in our sight O Lord
One in Christ we are the temple of God.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Since boredom advances and boredom is the root of all evil, no wonder, then, that the world goes backwards, that evil spreads. This can be traced back to the very beginning of the world. The gods were bored; therefore they created human beings.
quote by Soren Kierkegaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Too Much
A discussion of politics and I fall asleep, voices
droning about boring facts - after I had my say
about Greece and destitute refugees in the Cote
d’Ivoire, we watch another documentary about
solar power to save us from nuclear disaster
I black out, a solicitous colleague shakes me awake
I wriggle in my seat; next week, our enthusiastic
teacher says, each must do a speech on South
African politics discussing the party of their choice
in detail – I give up, resigned I decide
I cannot attend this class, I shall completely lose
my mind in the boredom of this, will have to flee
the subject of politics as it drives me insane, the
stink of inefficient states and the self-serving
politicians defrauding their own people
Is just too much…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Sonnet: My ‘Temple’ On Earth
The pillars of my strength are three for now!
Thou art the rock on which my temple stands!
To all Thy tenets, humbly do I bow;
The construction will be with my own hands.
Let prayers make my mind draw plans with ease;
Let grace of God reinforce every brick;
Let God’s mercy help me construct in peace;
Let fear of God make my heart never sick.
The temple is my family on earth!
Outlive it must, the fury of devils;
O God, Thy blessings must not be a dearth;
Let impervious be temple to evils!
When temple’s made, thine humble servant, I
Whole-heartedly wish to Thee glorify.
poem by John Celes
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Thieves In The Temple
{long version of thieves in the temple}
I'm holdin' on (i'm holdin' on) the best that i can
Love please, (let me be) let me be the better man
Better than the ones that wanna count me out
Better than the ones that don't know what my love's about
I'm talkin' 'bout the kinda love that can move a mountain
The kinda love that could part the sea
The kinda love that'll last 4 ever
(no matter what u say we should be together)
U should be with me (thieves in the temple)
Yeah, u should be with me
I said i wanna know (talk to me)
One thing (talk to me)
Said i wanna know (talk to me)
I wanna know one thing, baby (talk to me)
How come you said that i was your baby
When u and your love was gonna leave
U led me on, led me on thinkin' u was moses
Herding sheep blindly through a fantasy
U done me wrong (thieves in the temple)
And everybody knows it
Now the sound of my voice is pumpin' in your chest
More or less, i am here to tell u that
I am the best
Better than the rest
Better than the thieves in the temple tonight
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, hurt me
(put it in)
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple tonight
Put your foot on the rock
Let me show you how to clock
Put your foot on the rock
Let me show you how to clock
Thieves in the temple
(what the....?)
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
(hurt me)
Thieves in the temple
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He's Building A Taj Mahal
A deified temple of love
No matter what she says
No matter what she does
He doesn't give up
He won't give up
He's building a Taj Mahal
A deified temple of love
For a shy shadow bodiless her
Each day one more brick
She says cease from your labour
I'm not a stone
I'm not a tower
I'm not a temple
No matter what she says
No matter what she does
He keeps on building
Building a Taj Mahal
The day he's gone
The temple will vanish
A bubble burst temple of love
The day she's gone
The tower will disappear
A bubble burst temple of love
Drawn in earthly notes
Everything's written on a wind
Bubble burst blown away
A shadow for a shadow
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting In Boredom
Waiting in boredom
for something to get done
is the greatest enemy
to a very active mind.
It is the curse that affects us all,
making us lose our patience
over the simplest tasks
we have to perform.
Waiting in boredom
eats away at our soul
making time drag
within everything we try to do.
It is the curse of humankind
of which there is no cure,
just to be patient
and wait to see it through.
2 July 2010
poem by David Harris
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Between The Thin Line
He was a bright, happy, smart kid to begin with
who always kept to himself by the dried lake
playing with the rainbows and butterflies
messing with the true colours of the world
So one gloomy Sunday boredom went to see him
to let the kid taste how bitter the reality really is!
but unexpectedly, the boy kicked the boredom in its ribs
and the boredom laughed so hard that its teeth fell off…
The good thing is after that day the boy learned one thing
he learned that boredom is a one ticklish son of a bitch!
so of course he, the boy kept doing what he loved doing
without giving a rats-arse about the rest of the god forsaken,
cruel, rat-trap of a world which he knew was surely out there
He yelled his lungs off at the empty, cloudless skies
jumped as far as the moon and breathed some fresh air,
swam through the seven oceans, walked a thousand miles,
flew over the skyscrapers and winked at the cute girls
who stood open mouthed, staring at him, behind windows
and rode the lightning across the tallest mountains
and so finally when the moments stood up on him
he simply refused to lose to the jumbled mess of confusion
which each and everyone out there refered to as life.
poem by Pamuditha Zen Anjana
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