Yet I've discovered that how I look is not a function of anything as ephemeral as my hair.
quote by Judith Light
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What we can or cannot do, what we consider possible or impossible, is rarely a function of our true capability. It is more likely a function of our beliefs about who we are.
quote by Tony Robbins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't think it's the function of Congress to function well. It should drag its heels on the way to decision.
quote by Barber B. Conable Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In any architecture, there is an equity between the pragmatic function and the symbolic function.
quote by Michael Graves
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deliberation is the function of many, action is the function of one.
quote by Charles de Gaulle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Institutions - government, churches, industries, and the like - have properly no other function than to contribute to human freedom; and in so far as they fail, on the whole, to perform this function, they are wrong and need reconstruction.
quote by Charles Horton Cooley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These groups within a society can he distinguished according as to whether, like an army or an orchestra, they function as a single body; or whether they are united merely to defend their common interests and otherwise function as separate individuals.
quote by Herbert Read
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That is, we believed, the supreme duty of the parent, who only was permitted to claim in some degree the priestly office and function, since it is his creative and protecting power which alone approaches the solemn function of Deity.
quote by Charles Eastman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Six
A red hibiscus that blooms
In the morning
Closes, wilts, in the afternoon,
You expect another one of its kind tomorrow,
A china rose,
Your night life,
At the outdoor café, sitting on light fabricated
Silver chairs, sipping tea, puffing smoke, sipping
Margarita, gazing
Slight stolen looks
At young handsome
Men rated per hour,
It is your policy of giving false names and wrong address,
They know
What you are doing,
They understand
Your needs & wants
For a fleeting night
A cure for an itch
Momentary piecemeal pleasures,
Allusions about a broken love of what used to be,
Illusions of what you could have been,
Momentary
Thoughts, momentary projections, when you make love with your catch, as you puff your smoke to
Confuse the ceiling with your gaze of momentary
Emptiness,
You are the first one
To leave, after paying the bills,
They always pretend asleep,
While naked,
As you leave his due on the side table,
You go home on shriveled hair,
Driving a red car,
Smokeless to the road,
Your cellphone rings,
Your son in his father’s house calls
“Mommy, I want to go home”
“I am driving, ’ you call him,
A flash of momentary happiness,
A momentary sadness,
Flip-flopping to your mind,
What are these really, these that meet your gaze for something that should have been permanent,
That red hibiscus, that blooms only for a day,
Is ephemeral,
Like stolen nights,
Like the way your child calls you, because father is always away,
“I am in Cebu for a week”, said many times over and over again,
Her stint for a night is ephemeral,
Electronic calls are ephemeral,
A happy home, her dream, was sort of, kinda like red hibiscus
Ephemeral too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ephemeral
A red hibiscus that blooms
In the morning
Closes, wilts, in the afternoon,
You expect another one of its kind tomorrow,
A china rose,
Your night life,
At the outdoor café, sitting on light fabricated
Silver chairs, sipping tea, puffing smoke, sipping
Margarita, gazing
Slight stolen looks
At young handsome
Men rated per hour,
It is your policy of giving false names and wrong address,
They know
What you are doing,
They understand
Your needs & wants
For a fleeting night
A cure for an itch
Momentary piecemeal pleasures,
Allusions about a broken love of what used to be,
Illusions of what you could have been,
Momentary
Thoughts, momentary projections, when you make love with your catch, as you puff your smoke to
Confuse the ceiling with your gaze of momentary
Emptiness,
You are the first one
To leave, after paying the bills,
They always pretend asleep,
While naked,
As you leave his due on the side table,
You go home on shriveled hair,
Driving a red car,
Smokeless to the road,
Your celfon rings,
Your son in his father’s house calls
“Mommy, I want to go home”
“I am driving, ’ you call him,
A flash of momentary happiness,
A momentary sadness,
Flip-flopping to your mind,
What are these really, these that meet your gaze for something that should have been permanent,
That red hibiscus, that blooms only for a day,
Is ephemeral,
Like stolen nights,
Like the way your child calls you, because father is always away,
“I am in Cebu for a week”, said many times over and over again,
Her stint for a night is ephemeral,
Electronic calls are ephemeral,
A happy home, her dream, was sort of, kinda like red hibiscus
Ephemeral too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Machines built by human beings they will function correctly if we provide them with a very specific environment. But if that environment is changed, they won't function at all.
quote by Ralph Merkle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Form and function are a unity, two sides of one coin. In order to enhance function, appropriate form must exist or be created.
quote by Ida P. Rolf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Form follows function - that has been misunderstood. Form and function should be one, joined in a spiritual union.
quote by Frank Lloyd Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The function of the law is not to provide justice or to preserve freedom. The function of the law is to keep those who hold power, in power.
quote by Gerry Spence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Want More Hair?
I'd love
I think
more hair
more hair
like a big
old grizzly bear
more hair makes
you manly
more hair
makes you tough
more hair feels
like carpet
more hair keeps
you rough
more hair
for pretty ladies
to rub their faces on
more hair for
guys to jealous of
and more locks that can
be flung
I think more hair would be awesome
but I wouldn't wanna overdo it
because too much hair would make
me like a little furry blanket
and I couldn't cover both of us
just you and that ain't fair
more hair!
poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mothers Hair
One of your hairs fell out last night:
A piece of your life was gone without a sound.
I know a difficult day is coming,
My heart, pierced, utters a quiet cry.
Let my childhood smile again in the sun
And turn me into an innocent little head louse
So I can crawl through the jungle of your hair
And sing a song of darkness in its fragrance.
Under your fingernail-roof Ill sleep in my house;
In my black dream Ill water your black trees.
Ill pick black fruits, and hair-jungle bees
Will bring me black poems to be opened.
How will I live, without your hair?
How will I breathe, without its fragrance?
How will I survive, when I am discovered
By ghosts of wooden combs combing your hair?
Let me wear shows made of dawn-flowers
And crawl without a sound into your sleep.
Ill take the place of the hair that's gone
And sing of hair-clouds flying from night to day.
poem by Ovwigho Joseph Ovedje
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And You Know The Time
And you know the hair that would be a love,
Never are the stars and moon and sun beheld
By the lovers of the night, the beloved speaks too hard.
You would come hither, and bend you leader’s head
To see a sorrow and find the stars, of the wild birds.
Light has a trick you discovered when young.
Under a time is the tree of unbroken love,
Though lasses contemplate when they die,
Knowing hair is significant after dawn.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It’s important … to know who the real enemy is, and to know the function, the very serious function of racism, which is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and so you spend 20 years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says that you have no art so you dredge that up. Somebody says that you have no kingdoms and so you dredge that up. None of that is necessary. There will always be one more thing.
quote by Toni Morrison
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again.
quote by Annie Dillard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Each Lock of Your Hair
I love the way your hair curls through
The ribbons and the gold;
It seems to me the laughter of children prancing
Around a Maypole,
With the hair-suited creatures out and pullulating:
This is something sincerely pagan-
It really doesn’t exist anymore,
And I try and mouth it to the briny star,
But the traffic roars and pulls
Filled with things too fast to care,
True and modern gods to plush and placate to,
But it exists in your hair in this time,
The cheerless castles and their wan girls,
Their grotto’s water-dragon’s aquatic swirls, the spume of
Fairies in the waves
Make invisible phosphorescent too ephemeral
To be proved,
But every paraplegic scientist who keeps close-lipped
To secret renunciations of every entire hemisphere,
Deep in the night, tremulous- brought out in
The dark empiricism of somnolent senses,
Knows beyond theorem, beyond the dire motherhood of the grave,
And slinging star of death; beyond the rhythmic chaos of the waves,
The proof of things which shall never be reclaimed
All a glimmer and alive in each lock of your hair.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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