Our thoughts are unseen hands shaping the people we meet. Whatever we truly think them to be, that's what they'll become for us.
quote by Richard Cowper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remains Unseen
The hate that tears at my brain
Remains unseen to you
The self loathing and the pain
I'm swinging at the end of my rope,
If you only knew
I am lost without a hope,
There's nothing I can do
Oh.
I don't want to live this day
It's getting harder every day,
To face what I've become
The fear of what I have become
Remains unseen to you
A heart that's just gone numb
Remains unseen to you
I just want to close my eyes
And pretend this isn't true
Throw my hands up to the skies
There's nothing I can do
Oh.
This feeling of helplessness
And despair remains unseen to you
It's the cross that I must bear,
But it remains unseen to you
I dwell in a twisted reality of hate,
Remains unseen to you
Ugly thoughts, you cannot relate,
So I'll remain unseen to you
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem about Poetry - Did I write them?
did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
does the flower
blossom on its own?
not, not entirely
there are hands
that help each petal
tilt itself, one by one
so that the flower
inches and express
its beauty to you
beauty installed
by a set of hands
one could only describe as
the Lofty Ones
did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
there are verses
that have sprung
in the the mind like
the flower
so finely tuned each
petal has moved, so that
they are in unison with each other
so that they converge as
a beauty all done up to glorify
the unseen hands
the unseen, the unseen
that could only be
known by the heart
as every petal moves
like word to take the heart
to the height of praise
for the Lofty One
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A False Friend
Our hands have met, but not our hearts;
Our hands will never meet again.
Friends, if we have ever been,
Friends we cannot now remain:
I only know I loved you once,
I only know I loved in vain;
Our hands have met, but not our hearts;
Our hands will never meet again!
Then farewell to heart and hand!
I would our hands had never met:
Even the outward form of love
Must be resign'd with some regret.
Friends, we still might seem to be,
If I my wrong could e'er forget;
Our hands have join'd but not our hearts:
I would our hands had never met!
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghost Town
The old town stood abandoned
left to those unseen to roam.
The inhabitants left behind
when the residence moved away.
The tumbleweeds dance through the streets
once alive with people.
Shudders sway back and forth
pushed by unseen hands.
Flowers grow where seeds have fallen,
dropped by birds and wind.
Spiders draw exotic webs
covering corners everywhere.
Doors left unlocked creak
under any breeze passing through.
Wild animals forage
watched by the unseen inhabitants
that live within in the town.
This silent town of ghosts.
11 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One of the interesting things here is that the people who should be shaping the future are politicians. But the political framework itself is so dead and closed that people look to other sources, like artists, because art and music allow people a certain freedom.
quote by Thom Yorke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wait, things are shaping up
I approached a sculptor the other day
For carving a statue of
Gautama Buddha
He asked me a number of questions
Some of them were far stretched
Though I answered all of them
I was thinking within that
All these details were unnecessary
He could read my mind and said
These details were needed to help me
Come out with what exactly you were looking for
He suggested my coming to him
Two weeks later
Why so long and he said
Wait things are shaping up
Two weeks later
I saw practically no progress
He showed me a granite block
Which he said he would carve
As Gautama Buddha
He suggested me to visit him
Two weeks later
“Do you not think we are delaying? ”
I asked and he said
Wait things are shaping up
I went to him as suggested
No change at all
The block was under water
And carving had not started
He said that this curing process
Would help him understand
The quality of the block
And he opined
That we were lucky in
Selecting the right granite
And he suggested my visiting him
A week later
“Yes, I know you are wondering
As to why it is taking so much time”
How he could say even without my telling that
He continued
Wait, things are shaping up
A week later
No great change
But the block got castled here and there
No where near my expectations
“Come after three days and see”
But, he assured
Wait, things are shaping up
I made four visits later
At intervals of three, two and one days
I could not make out head or tail
Of what was happening
But, each time I returned
Hearing his words
Wait, things are shaping up
I was wondering
Are things really shaping up
Or am I being fooled
I did not visit him for
Full three months
As I was sure that
I would not be able to appreciate
The progress that the sculptor
Would be claiming to have made
One day, there was a call from him
“Come and see your Gautama Buddha”
I was not excited
I visited his place in all reluctance
And was preparing to hear
Wait, things are shaping up
But, what a surprise
Saw my Gautama Buddha
In a shape and carving
Beyond my belief
And I was not able to control my excitement
“I know you are wondering how this could be possible
But, you know, I was telling each time you visited that
Wait, things are shaping up”
We all do prayers seeking some change
And we wonder as to when the change would fructify
God, like a sculptor is shaping things
But, he never tells
Wait, things are shaping up
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Our future may lie beyond our vision, but it is not completely beyond our control. It is the shaping impulse of America that neither fate nor nature nor the irresistible tides of history, but the work of our own hands, matched to reason and principle, that will determine our destiny. There is pride in that, even arrogance, but there is also experience and truth. In any event, it is the only way we can live.
Robert F. Kennedy in speech to South African young people (1966)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the Café Door
Something they said beside me
made me look toward the café door,
and I saw that lovely body which seemed
as though Eros in his mastery had fashioned it,
joyfully shaping its well-formed limbs,
molding its tall build,
shaping its face tenderly,
and leaving, with a touch of the fingers,
a particular nuance on the brow, the eyes, the lips.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Twist in my sobriety
All God's children need travelling shoes
Drive your problems from here
All good people read good books
Now your conscience is clear
Now your conscience is clear
In the morning when I wipe my brow
Wipe the miles away
I like to think I can be so willed
And never do what you say
And never do what you say
Look my eyes are just holograms
Look your love has drawn red from my hands
From my hands you know you'll never be
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety
We just poked a little pie
For the fun that people have at night
Late at night don't need hostility
The timid smile and pause to free
I don't care about their different thoughts
Different thoughts are good for me
Up in arms and chaste and whole
All God's children took their toll
Cup of tea take time to think yeah
Time to risk a life a life a life
Sweet and handsome soft and porky
You pig out 'til you've seen the light
Pig out 'til you've seen the light
Half the people read the papers
Read them good and well
Pretty people nervous people
People have got to sell
News you have to sell
Look my eyes are just holograms
Look your love has drawn red from my hands
From my hands you know you'll never be
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety.
song performed by by Tanita Tikaram
Submitted by Simona Enache
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I used to think of all the billions of people in the world, and of all those people, how was I going to meet the right ones The right ones to be my friends, the right one to be my husband. Now I just believe you meet the people you're supposed to meet.
quote by Andrew Schneider
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every experience in life, everything with which we have come in contact in life, is a chisel which has been cutting away at our life statue, molding, modifying, shaping it. We are part of all we have met. Everything we have seen, heard, felt, or thought has had its hand in molding us, shaping us
quote by Orison Swett Marden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take Back the Virgin Page
Written on Returning a Blank Book
Take back the virgin page,
White and unwritten still;
Some hand, more calm and sage,
The leaf must fill.
Thoughts come, as pure as light
Pure as even you require;
But, oh! each word I write
Love turns to fire.
Yet let me keep the book:
Oft shall my heart renew,
When on its leaves I look,
Dear thoughts of you.
Like you, 'tis fair and bright;
Like you, too bright and fair
To let wild passion write
One wrong wish there.
Haply, when from those eyes
Far, far away I roam,
Should calmer thoughts arise
Towards you and home;
Fancy may trace some line,
Worthy those eyes to meet,
Thoughts that not burn, but shine,
Pure, calm, and sweet.
And as, o'er ocean far,
Seamen their records keep,
Led by some hidden star
Through the cold deep;
So may the words I write
Tell through what storms I stray --
You still the unseen light,
Guiding my way.
poem by Thomas Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Hands
My hands once warm,
And clothed in yours,
my hands once full,
and held in yours.
Empty hands,
Cold hands,
my hands have lost their,
Partner as you once were for me,
Your hands at once rough,
and soft,
Always gentle when in mine,
our hands would meet to fill the cold,
My hands now empty cover tears,
my hands once warm now with
a freezing touch,
your hands are gone,
the warmth they held has left,
these hands of mine.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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We Are The People
If youre feeling shut down
May my thoughts be with you
If youre a black man bein beat down
And shoved all around
May my thoughts be with you
If your worlds gettin a little too tough
You know, our thoughts bein with you
Hey, I know, that its crazy out there
And my thoughts are with you
Chorus:
We are the people
And we live forever
We are the people
And our future is written in the wind
On the wind
If you are one of the homeless
May my thoughts be with you
If you are scared and alone
You know, our thoughts are with you
If you are one of the fortunate ones
We all know, its lonely up there
We understand, that nobodys got it
Made
So our thoughts are with you
Chorus:
We are the people
And we live forever
We are the people
And our future is written in the wind
On the wind
You see yourself as a leader
May my thoughts be with you.
If you try to divide and conquer
Well rise up against you
We know, only the strong will survive
But the meek will inherit
So if you got a coat of arms
Oh friend
I suggest, we wear it
Chorus:
We are the people
And we live forever
We are the people
And our future is written in the wind
On the wind
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Friends Across The Internet
This poem goes out to all my friends wherever they may live.
Someone said to me recently
you cannot count people on the internet
really as your friends.
When asked why not?
They replied, you never see them,
never touch their hands,
so you really cannot count them as friends.
I disagreed with them entirely;
friends are what you make people.
Maybe you cannot see them,
nor touch them physically,
but when you write to them,
you feel you know them;
sometimes more than
those you meet everyday.
My wish is one day
I will be able to meet all of them
and give them a big hug individually,
to show them they really are a friend to me.
I have met a few already whom I care a lot about
and I worry about them when troubles come their way,
but there are many more whom I have yet to meet.
They live in distant lands,
many thousands of miles from me
and I am going to do my best
to visit them one day,
so don’t be too shocked of you get an email from me
saying I am coming your way
on such and such a day.
2 August 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Returning To The Homes Of Our Selves
last night
we are even,
i was about to tell
you about a wall i am making,
you said it first instead,
your wall in invincible
both are unseen, but only felt
we celebrate this mutual wish
we are so near
there are only a few words that divide us
and yet we are so far
and we feel it in trembling
what we do not see
when we first know love
are the same unseen dimensions
that make us go home
when i arrive there
i meet myself and you too tell me
that in your world
you have met the true self that you are
the days are over
the nights are longer
the full moons are gone
and so are the stars
did i not tell you that sometimes
it is in the dark that we see too well?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm not entangled in shaping my work according to other people's views of how I should have done it.
quote by Toni Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're the bait...
New guilts, new anxieties
New pandoras, new trickeries
history seen, changed unseen
Play cat n mouse with me
You the cheese, me the mouse
Lets find the cat unseen
I eat you and play dead
We'd fool the cat unseen
But there's a problem,
The cat has caught us unseen...
02-04-2008
poem by by unknown author
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I love it when people say things to me in public and want to meet me, because I want to meet them! Early on, my manager told me, 'If you want to sell 500,000 records, then go out there and meet 500,000 people.'
quote by Taylor Swift
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We meet people all the time....
We meet people all the time
Rich people with nothing
Poor people with the world
Kind people
Not so kind people
Funny people
People who think they are funny
People who laugh at other peoples pain
People who change the course of our lives
People whom we change their direction
Inspirational people
Caring people
Intelligent people
History tells us of people who create World misery
And the ones who end it
People who charm the socks off us (while we are wearing our shoes!)
People who steal our affections
People who give us undeserved affections
All the time we meet people
Wouldn’t it be nice if this poem didn’t label them though?
poem by Wanelisa Albert
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