Another one of the old poets, whose name has escaped my memory at present, called Truth the daughter of Time.
quote by Aulus Gellius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Preconcious
Man has life like a span of time
Rather than pulse and blood and breath
The magical psyche has a hole inside
Where the spatialization of time can abide
Metaphor me and analogue I
Grieve for the loss of Mycanae
Where the god-like race of hero-men
Lived without time or law to obey
Frenzied sybyls at the omphalos
These poets, the last of the nabium
Babbling and nabaing, chanting ghosts
Center of earth and the conciousness' rim
Not, imagining but experiencing the muse
The Muses babels unwearying flows
Daughter of Mnemosyne, to ruse
Before the budding memory rose
Conciousnesss thus memory thus guilt and remorse
The holes just a space to move around and trace
The hole in the pysche where time runs its course
Past Present and future establishing place
Metaphor me and Analogue I
Grieve for the loss of Mycaene
Where the god-like race of men
Lived without time or law to obey
poem by Barbara Hilal
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Clash Between Truth And Love!
Love has a spell over everyone!
Who is there not swayed by love?
Truth I say friends take as advice;
But words of love they accept as
Decree of divine dispensation!
Love wins what truth struggles.
Same thing happens with poets too;
Poets are overtaken by poetesses
by being ladies of beauty and love!
Poets however sincere they are
Are left behind poetesses often!
Intellect can be used to say truth;
Imagination can be used to do so!
Dry intellectual truth falls on deaf ears
But sweet imaginary truth reaches all!
Wisdom lies in maintaining silence
Believing that truth will prevail finally!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Good movement
Did you ever see my profile?
Catch me there for while
It may speak and reveal
There is hardly anything to conceal
Poets need not speak for themselves
Their volumes or work speak itself
It is how you present your life and work poetically
It gets on to the heart of people theoretically
You have so much to learn from friends
They may advance from different angles and lend
The valuable support and inspiration
It may its own weight and startling revelation
I find female friends more considerate
They are near to the truth and moderate
What they present is purely from mother’s heart
They never try to impose or ever try to look smart
They may be found in friend, daughter or beloved
All most all feelings are bridged and puzzle is solved
They nearly take you to the dead far end
Revive it with kind and best human touch and send
I may not see in them only from sex point of view
I try to understand them and give their legitimate due
This must be the secret of any poet and be pursued
So at any time they are not misunderstood and sued
Should I restrict my self to only writing?
What if some one offers beautiful fighting?
Not ending in scuffle but lovely exchanges of words
I always take it as good sign and look forward
What tasks poets are supposed to perform?
Take the readers in arms and stay informed
This may prove to be great joy for the moment
If not it may be great event but surely good movement
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Emergency Exit
I must be present now
before I can have a past;
I must be present now
to create a future then.
If I still my present mind
and exchange present thoughts
for nothing at all,
I have escaped past and future
and achieved a timeless peace
with no yesterday, no tomorrow.
I am
before
Abraham was.
poem by Brian Taylor
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The Truth!
They said: ‘It’s the blaring truth,
Of the time.’ I said: ‘No, it’s the mute truth, of our time.’
Then he said: ‘You both are wrong. There is no truth, at all! ’
Thus, the eternal argument continues. Me taking
Many a avatars, like incarnations with my own truth;
They waiting for me to arrive, every time the flood recedes
And He, ever present like the truth itself, but doing nothing.
Then, we erect a pole of truth, and a flag atop
With questions scribbled on truth, about
His non-existent truth, my mute truth and
Their blaring truth! We all wait for the flag
To talk, in the wind and spread our message
Of truth and gather the majority. But it never fluttered,
It never fluttered for the truth.
poem by Jayanta Oinam
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I Want to Be True
I don't want to be clever or witty or wise
I just want to be true.
Truth?
Truth was us when, inside me, you looked into my eyes and found my love,
Truth was us when we laughed and played,
Truth was us when you cared too much for me to make love to me,
Truth was us, when knowing me, you were brave in your words and helped me be true.
Truth?
Truth was your tenderness, your joy, your heart.
Truth was my surrender, my giving, my happiness.
Truth was your love, was my love, was the love we created between us.
The truth was our honesty and ease.
Truth?
Truth is the emptiness I feel at my loss of you,
Truth is my naïve hope, all present, that you will come to me,
Truth is the pain at night while I grieve for you,
Truth is my smile and my love playing the memories.
Truth is this moment, the now, the present.
The truth is I had something more than wonderful, and I can't have it anymore.
The truth is I so wish I was with you.
Truth?
So many truths?
I will be true in the moment. x
poem by Susan Cook
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Truth Is Truth
Truth is
Weapons can not cut you
Fire can not burn you
Water can not wet you
Wind can not dry you
And You are in truth
You are the truth
2
I know truth is
Imperishable
I know truth is
Indefinable
I know truth is
Eternal
Pursuing truth
I know Truth is
Final.
3
Truth
We must recognized
Truth
Always present
And untruth has
No existence.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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My Favorite Memory
The first time we met is a favorite memory of mine
They say time changes all it pertains to
But your memory is stronger then time
I guess everything does change except
What you choose to recall
There's a million good day dreams to dream on
But baby your my favorite memory of all
Like the night we first got together on our bench
And held each other tight
Like the winter we spent together
Helping each other and closer then ever
And I remember our special times together
And our walks and our lost time together
It was always you who made the whole time a ball
It was you who called me just to hear my voice
Theres a million good times
I could dwell on
But baby you are my favorite memory of all
and you'll always be my favorite memory.
poem by connie Engstrom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's as though all the terms of a family were present at one time rather than his dad and his mum. Not just a present authority, but the resident memory of what qualifies what else is the case.
quote by Robert Creeley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Smothering of Poets
A love which ends badly-
if we let it-
freezes Time;
and we move on
covering it;
leaving it unchanged and unresolved.
We plant the last Kiss
with a question mark
knotted in the Semi-finish..
We drag our Dead Poet Love
into the future
bound and gagged
in the truck of the car
because all past loves
are Dead Poets;
we ignore the muffled cries
in the rear;
drive toward the future
tamping down the present
with a finger
dipped in
past and jaded memory.
We smother old past poets
put them away in the dark closet
because New Love
most often
doesn't share our love of
Former Poetries.
We reel in the Future now
before it is born;
strangled;
we make Hope for New Love
to lie
down in the cold;
but, our warm coat
is in the closet
which means
at odd times
in the chill
we dream of dead poets,
who sometimes
don't remain
dead still
in the trunk of the car
in the closet
in the category
nil.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poets are almost always wrong about facts. That's because they are not really interested in facts: only in truth: which is why the
truth they speak is so true that even those who hate poets by simple and natural instinct are exalted and terrified by it.
quote by William Faulkner
Submitted by anonym
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So Called Story
Harsh words,
spillling over,
warning the loving daughter.
Hurtful words,
telling the daughter
a one-sided story,
of a tale of deception.
Mother did wrong,
by blaming the father.
By pinning it all on
the new victim of his love.
Choosing to leave the daughter,
Choosing to leave the mother,
Choosing to leave the dear family behind him.
Moving on with a new life
to start again.
Forgetting all that was
Such a sad story to tell the daughter
who never wanted to know.
The secrets behind the new loving family.
Never knowing the truth.
This so called story
is all she now knows.
of the ending of times
between mother and father.
poem by Nicole Gehrman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come As You Are (LP Version)
Come As You Are"
Come, as you are. As you were.
As I want you to be. As a friend.
As a friend. As an old enemy. Take your time.
Hurry up. The choice is yours. Don't be late.
Take a rest. As a friend. As a old memory, memory, memory, memory.
Come. Dowsed in mud. Soaked in bleach.
As I want you to be. As a trend. As a friend.
As an old memory, memory, memory, memory.
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
Memory, memory, memory, memory (don't have a gun).
And I swear that I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun.
No I don't have a gun. No I don't have a gun. Memory, memory...
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Domestic Shades16
For angst theirs against
Infants and babies shut in classes
Montessori 'holidays' means a lot
That grand-mas are the happiest
Running behind grand children
Bleating to grand-son 'yes sir, yes sir'
Towed by grand-daughter like 'little lamb'
Boasting to daughters
Their baby care olden days..
Kept running behind me
My grand-daughter
My daughter behind her
A cypher-contest finally
Caught defeated for bath
But bath-towel crying elsewhere
Escaped to rescue, my daughter
Little wee locked in momentarily
Battled on a chaos further red mouthed
Poking 'Grandeur''s tongue
Prostrating to my back 'toothsome'...
And...
Now, I am not for Montessori Holidays
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Poets, Oh! Poets awake awake and face the world!
Life is bright and a pleasure to enjoy!
And above how nice to see the moon light!
Love is without blemishes and bliss in life!
Poets lie; lie more as much as you can!
Always write the positive traits
And suppress the negative, is it your habit
Or consciously do you do, to flinch the reality?
How do you get pleasure living in falsehood?
Life may be bright and but it has darkness inside
Which can't be overlooked, the moon has a spot
Love is a lust tick which sucks blood.
Poets play happy, happy game as much as you can!
But reality is truth, truth is the more reality
Make believe is a fairy tale lies only in the dream
When you awake it breaks in thousand pieces
Poets, oh! Poets awake, awake and face the world,
As it is! It is more beautiful and more truth in it.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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God Makes Things Happen
Only God can make things happen, as we travel through this life,
Guiding those saved from sin, through the Spirit of Jesus Christ.
Only God can change the heart, which is firmly set in all its ways,
In order to from present sin depart, into a new life of better days.
Everything that happens, God allows, in the lives of me and you,
And everything that God avows, will surely, in His time come true.
He may change our present path, as we live out this present time,
To save us from His future Wrath, which will come by His Design.
One Truth that we all cherish, which comes from God’s Salvation,
Is God desires none to perish, via His Message of Reconciliation.
Allowing men to scoff or embrace, His Truth decreed for Eternity,
God’s Truth of Mercy and of Grace, done at the Cross of Calvary.
God allows all men the choice, in regards to the Truth of His Son,
To scoff at Truth or to rejoice, in the Savior He sent for everyone.
We’re told this would be the case, within the Eternal Word of God,
As believers long to see His face, scoffers shall just see His Rod.
His Rod of Judgment as it happens, shall be just as God avowed,
Upon a world plagued by sins, that a darkened world has allowed.
Though God makes things happen, we still have a choice to make,
To allow God’s Son to live within, or God’s Truth, eternally forsake.
(Copyright ©05/2008)