What I do not want to write is didactic political tracts.
quote by Joan D. Vinge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Political Scientist
He is drinking water from the faucet from the river
From the tributary it comes through rusted pipes
Outside his window he sees the water that's supposed to be clean
By the chemicals polluted by the candy factory lines
Someplace on the edge of town
Someplace on the edge of town
Is where they live --
Political scientists
So now she is crawling on her hands and her knees
She is dirtying her jeans choking on her own perfume
With a pen she writes below the sink in someone's restaurant
This place is inconvenient for my name
She forgets to write it anyway
She forgets to write it anyway
The government supplies the cocaine
Political scientists
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
Banging hard upon a crooked drum
She feels them tearing down Salvation Army houses back in Michigan
Her husband's divorced but he treats her that way of course
Because he needs her just like he needs medicine
She forgets to write him anyway
She forgets to write him anyway
What's red and white and nearly over
Political scientist
Political scientist
Political scientist
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is poetry even in prose, in all the great prose which is not merely utilitarian or didactic: there exist poets who write in prose or at least in more or less apparent prose; millions of poets write verses which have no connection with poetry.
quote by Eugenio Montale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Instead of a treasure, coals! [""'Rum,' I hopes! 'Baccy,' I thinks! 'Tracts,' by jingo!"" Sailor's remark on discovering that he had picked up a bottle of tracts.]
Read Nothing Serious
fun poems always
usually easiest to write
but in my twenties
realized it was
all anyone most would
read nothing serious
political world
had issues
world kept
saying write
me write
me I thought...
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I do what I do, and write what I write, without calculating what is worth what and so on. Fortunately, I am not a banker or an accountant. I feel that there is a time when a political statement needs to be made and I make it.
quote by Arundhati Roy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children of Our Age
We are children of our age,
it's a political age.
All day long, all through the night,
all affairs--yours, ours, theirs--
are political affairs.
Whether you like it or not,
your genes have a political past,
your skin, a political cast,
your eyes, a political slant.
Whatever you say reverberates,
whatever you don't say speaks for itself.
So either way you're talking politics.
Even when you take to the woods,
you're taking political steps
on political grounds.
Apolitical poems are also political,
and above us shines a moon
no longer purely lunar.
To be or not to be, that is the question.
And though it troubles the digestion
it's a question, as always, of politics.
To acquire a political meaning
you don't even have to be human.
Raw material will do,
or protein feed, or crude oil,
or a conference table whose shape
was quarreled over for months;
Should we arbitrate life and death
at a round table or a square one?
Meanwhile, people perished,
animals died,
houses burned,
and the fields ran wild
just as in times immemorial
and less political.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Write To Set Thoughts and Feelings Free
I write to set thoughts and feelings free,
to struggle against the oppression’s indignity,
to find answers and to expose those that trample,
to find a way to serenity.
I write things that I experience and see,
trying to make my own reality
comprehensible to anyone
as a way to connect with me.
I write and stand somewhat alone
against society, almost stripped to the bone
ignoring political correctness
of the in-crowd in search of a society that is gone.
I write because its time that someone does something
while the clouds of destruction is gathering
in the hands of murderers, rapists and their leaders
as for a better world I am searching.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Write And Write And Write And Write
I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE
I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What I want to write
What I want to write
I could not write.
I could not write
Tiger tiger cat cat
And the difference they behaved.
I could not write
The sky and its fall
On our forehead.
What I want to write
I could not write.
I write how I loved
How flower blosom
How fruit ripe
How stream flow.
I could not know
How I write
And I write
What I want to write
I could not write.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write
Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why I Write?
I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face
poem by Asif Andalib
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War is not merely a political act but a real political instrument, a continuation of political intercourse, a carrying out of the same by other means.
quote by Karl Von Clausewitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It may be assumed as an axiom that Providence has never gifted any political party with all of political wisdom or blinded it with all of political folly.
quote by John George Nicolay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The apostolic writings are of three kinds: historical, didactic, and prophetic.
quote by Philip Schaff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm incapable of writing without social commentary. I like to think that it's integrated and not really heavy handedly didactic.
quote by John Shirley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My political hero
There's something about him
There's something about him
It’s not just his looks
Or the fact he’s a great cook
How do I fathom a man?
That is a tremendous success
I say this not to impress
When you hear him address congress
With words so tantalizing even to the press
You may agree and confess to his greatness
There's something about him
There's something about him
A man of the people
So gentle and simple
Gifted with imagination
Passionate with dedication
Master of the political game
A man with vision
And one on a mission
Somewhere in my head
I know it might sound weird
It is nothing to do with the bed
He is my political hero
Political hero of tomorrow
Political hero!
Political hero!
My political hero
Future leader of tomorrow
I praise thy name
Even if you can’t hear
I praise it all the same
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mariya And Son
Mariya the preacher went shopping!
Her son was at her side...
And their Christian tracts were dropping
In places far and wide!
From restaurants to ATMs,
From meters to phone booths!
These tracts like royal diadems
Were sparkling with God's truths!
The sun was shining up above,
The world was bright and new,
Almost as if God spoke with love,
'My Son, I give to YOU! '
Mariya smiling all the time,
Her son as good as gold,
Both walking in God's light sublime,
With winsome faith so bold...
A little child can share God's Word,
With tracts laid here and there,
Yet supervised, as is preferred
And covered with a prayer...
Mariya knows her way around,
She's found the Lord, that's why...
She walks as if she's Heaven-bound,
With twinkles in each eye!
In Heaven, tracts are never seen,
For who would need to know?
But here on Earth, let's intervene!
A-tract souls as we go!
A-tract lost souls! Each day! Be brave!
Mariya knows the score!
What wonders wait the souls we save!
There's joy forevermore!
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2012.
The Gospel poem is about a short video showing
Mariya giving out Christian tracts to passersby,
in the hope of preaching the Gospel to them.
The Gospel website is dikayo-dot-com and
God bless Mariya who emailed me the video link.
Video shortcut: bit.ly/2MinTip
It links to parts 1 and 2 and also the
dikayo username playlist for lots more!
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Questions
Write me what you're wearing! Is it warm?
Write me how you lie! Do you lie there softly?
Write me how you look! Is it still the same?
Write me what you're missing! Is it my arm?
Write me how you are! Have you been spared?
Write me what they're doing! Do you have enough courage?
Write me what you're doing! Is it good?
Write me, who are you thinking of? Is it me?
Freely, I've given you only my questions.
And I hear the answers, how they fall.
When you're tired, I can't carry it for you.
If you're hungry, I have nothing for you to eat.
And so now I leave the world
No longer there, as if I've forgotten you.
poem by Bertolt Brecht
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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