We all know about blogs and how big they are.
quote by John Doerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I also spend a lot of time on political blogs, and music blogs getting things for my radio show.
quote by Mark Edwards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First, I'd become an avid reader of blogs, especially music blogs, and they seemed to be where the critical-thinking action was at, to have the kind of energy that I associate with rock writing of the 1970s or Internet e-mail discussion lists a decade ago.
quote by Carl Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blogs are for anoraks who couldn't get published any other way.
quote by Janet Street-Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well, there are more writers of blogs right now than there are readers, so that's clearly a vanity phenomenon.
quote by John Doerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blogs are a great way to monitor and even participate in the chatter about your new site.
quote by Mike Davidson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I really struggle with that feeling of helplessness. That's why I really try to get my blogs, and even myself, to point to the positive and look at all the inspiring things that are happening.
quote by Daryl Hannah
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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It is hard to check five email inboxes, three voice mail systems, or five blogs that you are tracking.
quote by David Rose
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm not sure blogs are necessarily the best place to get a pulse on anything. People want to blog for a variety of reasons, and that may or may not be representative.
quote by Steve Ballmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You know, some of the good part of blog theory was that blogs would be like diaries that the world could read. They would be spontaneous, whatever pops into your mind, as a diary would be.
quote by Gregg Easterbrook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trust
Nowadays
You can’t
Trust -
Anybody.
You trust
Your mother,
She tells your
Father.
You trust your
Wife, she tells her
Friends.
You trust your
Hubby, he tells
His mates.
You trust your son,
He twitters it all….
You trust your
Daughter, she
Posts it on FB’s
Wall ;)
You trust yourself? ?
You tell the whole
World ;)
How? ?
Through blogs and
Poems :)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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In Memory Of Adriene Rich
A poet in the shape of a porcupine
a porcupine in the shape of a poet
the blogs are full of them...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Storm Lodge
comes
the wind gently
muted the space, run through
and through as it wrestles
the nature strength
lose steam
blogs the esteem,
even the train speed counter the
wind, find the golden rain
that stops the plane
for even the brave wants
to be a friend
see how the storm
live in the
plain, many have found a shelter
dislodge the green,
looks the rain never stop to clean the
pavement, just as time vanish all
the grain
please droplets of rain
come no more,
I am gone, before you'll left my land,
see dismay in
my face, the teary eyes
left in vain, even if you’re away the plain
will pay
oh! little sweet fertile
soil you have
grown, yet! sad for the rain
till and devour your land to the
ground...
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too Flimsy A Fling A Swing
too flimsy, her flings, she swings
to air and back to his arms, like a pendulum
less the house of a grandfather's drum,
good girl, good dog, good days of god,
log in, and click to an icon of images
emails malling on the screen of screeches,
scream, did you hear the scream of those
blogs? I am writing them. Lots of poems,
blogged logged and then
left for those cleft-lifts, once in a while
a smile flashes, and then a reminder: where are you?
i am here, he says. It is dark. No, come here, there is a ray of light,
This is the tunnel. There is an end somewhere and see the sun
I am here. Come back to me. She listens.
too flimsy, this fling. She wings back to him, on a dirty swing.
They meet and mate and then trying to figure out
What is the meaning of regret? Why did Johnny come so late?
He is coming. She is coming.
This is not the Library. But there is so much silence.
Only a little after.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meaningful games
The air of September has turned crisp and clean,
with a hint of past autumns remembered,
as I take the field with the rest of the team
to battle the other contender.
Just like a knuckleball released to the plate
Our season has seemed to meander
In May we seemed sure of a World Series date-
But now the blogs call us pretenders.
The lead we enjoyed in June and July
has steadily melted away.
bad luck and the heat had led to defeats
while our foes seem to gain every day.
The faces around me are a mix old and new.
Some friends have been traded away-
or waived on the wire, which was needed, no doubt.
I just hope these new call ups can play.
But there is no room for self pity or doubt
While our chance at the playoffs remains
There are so many players whose dreams are long dead
while we still play meaningful games.
This poem may be about the 2008 New York Mets. Certainly the title was inspired by a statement made by Mets owner, Fred Wilpon. The speaker may be David Wright. It is also possible that this poem is using the baseball season as an extended metaphor.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Between Legs And Logs
leaning forward
into the monitor,
the back legs of my office chair,
deserving a metaphor,
something on the lines of:
'erect like the asses of my lover',
left the ground like captain antilles.
i peered
-no-
i searched for the answer.
skimming blogs
and googling
recently deceased poets
anthems,
their bios.
anything i could glean.
the lyrics from odelay
silver mooned
artwork hung
off the skirt of a thirty
something teeny
telling me she
wanted cum tonight
i want some too
but something purer
than one night tripe.
-inspiration-
i jogged under the weight of loneliness
hoping to release the endorphins
and write firework splashes of poetry
so i released my
euphoric state on the pavement
dud.
God was watching on a fold out
chair as i went into the bathroom
at the community pool and jerked off
He could have touched my robe
and i would have
proselytized reams of parody.
instead he tripped my avatar
with truth. soaked my sprinting
ass with petrol and put me firmly
in this easy chair
typing words.
poem by Walter Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meaningful Games 2
Meaningful games
The air of September has turned crisp and clean,
with a hint of past autumns remembered,
as I take the field with the rest of the team
to battle the other contender.
Just like a knuckleball released to the plate
Our season has seemed to meander
In May we seemed sure of a World Series date-
But now the blogs call us pretenders.
The lead we enjoyed in June and July
has steadily melted away.
bad luck and the heat had led to defeats
while our foes seem to gain every day.
The faces around me are a mix old and new.
Some friends have been traded away-
or waived on the wire, which was needed, no doubt.
I just hope these new call ups can play.
But there is no room for self pity or doubt
While our chance at the playoffs remains
There are so many players whose dreams are long dead
while we still play meaningful games.
This poem may be about the 2008 New York Mets. Certainly the title was inspired by a statement made by Mets owner, Fred Wilpon. The speaker may be David Wright. It is also possible that this poem is using the baseball season as an extended metaphor.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ownage
She struggled with words
Thing or thingy came easy
Signified sufficiently
Even though she knew
A mosquitoes' trombone
To be a proboscis
She labored her phrases
With ahs and ahzza'z
Twiddling her tongue
Searching a cool adjective
Or frantically an elusive adverb
Tumbling expended on place mat verbs
Admirably she read
Despite her dyslexia
The funnies, the horoscope
The want ads, labels
Garnering her information larder
By excessive eco-surfing
Fail blogs and Facebookination
Having pronounced television an-bad
Most certainly meaning anathema
As written in her eyes
But with a guitar slung low
Move over Jimmy Paige
Notes plucked from a personal chromatic scale
Single trilled or ruffled in chords
Double and triple picked sympathetics
Wringing the neck to weeping
Jabbing the air in vibrato, straining a wawa
To a last inaudible gasp
Bending a million dollar Fender Stratocaster
To her will
Tremolo or break you MoFo
She certainly was something else
An' words to describe the phenomenon
Ranged from Wow! to F'en Wow!
Spoken with a breathy
Awed and totally
Adulatory inflection
Or
Screamed hysterically
By row upon row
Of mad fans
poem by Winston T. Gylles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going, Going...Gone!
Gon' git outta here...
Trying to spread that mess!
You ain't heard me say nuthin'...
About her or her ugliness.
All I said,
Was he wasn't wrapped too tight,
In his head.
Because 'you' have issues with her...
You need not tell lies,
To have them roll their eyes at me.
You gooooood for stirring things up!
And then sittin' back and laughin'...
Like you're not the cause for all the fuss!
Gon' git outta here...
Trying to spread that mess!
Talkin' 'bout,
How you saw who with who.
And which one said something,
About me...
That I should address!
And you don't want to get involved?
Because you don't think it is your place?
But you are all up in their business...
And you are telling lies all up in my face?
Gon'...
Git.
Outta here!
You ain't satisfied...
Until an argument hits the air.
And you don't care,
Who is in it or how it starts!
You just like to agitate.
Do it...
And then depart!
Gon' git outta here...
Trying to spread fresh mess!
You are getting too old for this.
This act of yours is too predictable.
And getting easier to resist in protest.
Folks have updated their ways to gossip today!
They use email, blogs and text messages,
To say what they have to say!
And this method that you are using...
Is tired.
Outdated.
Slow and lacking imagination.
Like a turtle stuck in molasses.
'Huh? '
You gotta add some 'beatz'!
And package it with somethin' slammin'.
With a rhyme or two.
And loop that with some hip hop!
Download it and then you in da biz!
Got that?
THEN,
You dropp it!
Hot or not!
'What in the hell are you talking about?
Nobody is in their right mind today.
No where!
I can't find a single person,
Who values the art of gossip!
Going, going...gone, is another lost treasure!
Man, you need to see a doctor...quick.
You're going through some menopause...
Or something!
SOMETHING is wrong with you!
I think your mind has 'flipped'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ana Isabel Ramirez-Bosch,32
(With Emmanuel Levinas)
In Memoriam
+ January 11,2009
Free from totalities of sea earth and sky
Free from imaginal plays of sense
Free from proud graspings of reason
Free from echoing chambers of heart
Ana Isabel Bosch mother lover of life
Here there she is beyond essence
Totally Other and otherwise than being
Beyond anguish and anxieties of dark rooms
She disturbs questions static patterns
Of our lives with traces of her presence
Telling all beloved and stranger alike
There is no death but only only
Dying to one’s self for better life
Ever creative redemptive and sanctifying
For the Other one must be responsible for
In the way it was for her the way it is
And must be for us this side of infinity
So we thank her and bless her
Free from silences from language
Free from s/canned rhymes and rhythms
Free from flows of melody and dance
Free from God’s personal eternity
Ana Isabel Bosch poet singer of life
Here there she is free in the infinity
Of time her our time pastpresentfuture
Blessed with unending desire unbounded
Responsibility for the Other trace of God
Here there she is my our Other commanding
Me us not to kill her her poems songs blogs
Not to kill ourselves in the prisons of being
But to open our nakedness to infinity of care
And joy beyond being otherwise than being
Beyond solitude of poetry mountain and valley
To undefine helplessness of our faces
That we may gaze at the Other her face pure
Unthematized as we thank her and bless her
poem by Francisco R. Albano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rush Limbaugh Poem = THE POWER of WORDS!
THE POWER of WORDS
Words are the most powerful tools used by man
As hearts and souls reach for one another.
Sharing feelings of fear, wisdom and joy
Or our love for a significant other.
Where would we be without words
Which inspire, unite and motivate.
Songs, poems, stories, blogs, books
Wars, religion, love, lust and hate.
Jesus preached words to the multitudes
And nourish their hunger within.
The stories we tell portray our spirit
As examples of weakness, triumph or sin.
When we fail to control the rage of our thoughts
What is easy to say becomes hard to forgive.
Words are visions which portray our intent
The better we communicate, the better we live.
AMERICAN SOLDIER POEM
It’s not a priest that gives us our freedom of religion
And it’s not a reporter that gives us our freedom of voice.
It’s not any judge, lawyer, politician, or teacher
But the blood of a soldier that has sacrificed by choice.
Our soldiers line up to be remembered
As the best of the best at their job.
They wish to be needed and depended on
To save all we love from the mob.
They risk their life and limb for liberty
Standing firm against evil unwilling to break.
To be part of something greater than themselves
They are willing to sacrifice whatever it will take.
Tom Zart’s 450 Poems Are Free To Share To Teach Or Show Love And Support!
By God’s Poet
Tom Zart
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