A perfect human being: Man in search of his ideal of perfection. Nothing less.
quote by Pir Vilayat Khan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfection
Your cold and poor-spirited love
Was like running water upon my hands...
I did for your love, all that I could....
As an imperfect man that I am...
I offered you just possible things...
Warmth when you were cold,
And consolation when you felt hopeless...
You search for perfection
Which you will never find...
Perfect is the rain that falls
In the spring time...
Perfect are the flowers that grow
in a real garden of love....
Perfect is the smile in a child
Who plays with toys...
Perfection is a man
Who had it all
And now is getting tired and old...
Perfection are the memories
In your heart and mind...
Perfection is something
You shall never find
On me or any other man
Since perfection is just
In your dreams and imagination...
Now perfection becomes
Just like a story untold....
How sad it is
That my love you can no longer have
Neither my hands again hold...
o! Woman, wish you good luck
In your new try...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This peach my teacher
This peach
that I’ve just eaten,
been graced by,
been blessed by,
been taught by,
been transformed by…
it’s as if some
Messenger of the Gods
had arrived, stopwatch in hand,
saying, everything holds in perfection
but a little moment -
as William Shakespeare noted:
so I’m going to arrange things so that
as the stopwatch ticks out
ten seconds to that moment,
you’ll reach out your hand to the fruitbowl,
take it, feel its yielding softness under velvet skin,
cut it carefully twice through the poles,
once equatorially… and as it falls apart,
spear one segment; eat…
this peach
was full of what even Rilke
could say no more than, peachness..
it was a living proof of Plato:
its perfection taught me
where essence meets experience,
where actuality meets the ideal of peach;
where a singular perfection speaks of
all perfections; where perfection
leaves from perfection, naught else but perfect…
how could such a perfect thing
have been invented by one
who does not love? Who is not love?
This peach is love itself, and I the worshipper
must needs make of myself a living God
to whom to kneel, to offer praise and gratitude
for all perfection known..
this peach my teacher.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Some Peace
My honesty everyone doubts and nobody believes me. The sadness just keeps on increasing and turns to be intolerable. Wounds are fresh as ever from the past events of pain. Peace, some peace I try to search although perfect peace is nowhere since perfection is just an illusion of human mind.
A beautiful life and pleasing world, everyone is in search of. Where is such a place is always the thing on everyone's mind. Live and let live is actually the only way to find some hope as spreading love is the need.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Why?
Perfect
A word that all human wants to be,
including me! !
What is perfect?
why we always want to be perfect?
why?
Did i perfect when all my friends love me?
OR
Didn't i when all my frieds hate me?
But my parents always said that human is 'not perfect'! !
why we always want to be perfect?
all of us! ! !
The word perfect is only for God
human is not qualify for that.
Even though we know that we will never be perfect,
we still trying.
Until what? THE END OF THIS WORLD! ! ! ! ! ! !
But why? ? ?
please God! !
tell me..........
I'm going 'insane'
poem by Qistina Zaini
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The greatness of human actions is measured by the inspiration that it brings. Blessed is he who carries within himself a God, an ideal of beauty and obeys it: an ideal of art, ideal of science, ideal of country, ideal virtues of the Gospel! These are the wellsprings of great thoughts and great actions. All reflections illuminate infinity.
quote by Louis Pasteur
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Perfect of One
So if this kiss
I mean to kiss
happens and it
runs amiss
and you or I
suffer disappointment
will we forever eschew
the kissing
and its sweet intents
because we sought
that which was more perfect
than either of
us?
That I guess would be silly.
But how sweet is the love
held in our breasts
how wonderful is the kiss never made
how perfect the kiss before the touch of lips
gentle touch;
and the kiss is done;
it may or may not be the perfect gem
the before-kiss was.
Ah, life so often
interrupts my dreams
and forces me to love
me imperfectly
and you as well.
No, imperfect is not the word;
perhaps it is better seen
as the union of our two worlds
which by definition means me
and not me coming together
bringing home the point
that can perfection mate
when I am the only one in the portrait,
and a perfect of one;
which is not really
perfection at all;
or is that really
only the Perfection
of Alone?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Perfect Blame
If I write the perfect poem
then my creation
mocks me
because it is perfect
and I know I am not.
The imperfect poem
is better for me
yet perfection
haunts
and I continue to strive
for its outlines
even as I concede
imperfection's continence
is more like me.
It may be I have to concede
that I and all of us are perfect
as we are inside
but once perfection moves outside my skin
the world taints it
with its imperfections
and I have to take the blame.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Defining Perfection
What is perfection other than
a self conflicting inner obsession?
Perhaps the word needs new
subjective definition
Perfect seen in multi-dimensions
unique to each individual perception
perfect not being the finished product
but acceptance of progress enduring struggle
perfection in a strength and willingness to stand
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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0337Just a moment
The usual disgusting scene:
the sneezes coming one after the other
so no fun enjoying the one;
the coughs like an iron file along the lung,
coughs that just weren't going anywhere;
and as for the nose-blowing stuff -
beats any horror film in Sensurround...
and in the midst of all this carefully selected
personal misery.
a moment of perfection.
there it was, full on,
looking one straight in the eye:
perfection.
and because it was perfect
all you could do was look at it and register
and because it was perfect,
it was peaceful
and because it was peaceful it was still
and because it was still it wasn't going to go away
and all you could do was, to just be 'yes! '
and because perfection is - well, perfect -
there has to be Mr Other
saying in best TV style
'So that's it, huh? Just that? And I'm supposed to get the message?
Do me a favour...'
but it hadn't gone away.
Well that's how it was this afternoon.
You get the evidence without the commentary.
The back-up.
The instruction book in five not-quite languages.
The friend who's been there.
Or some less extreme scenario.
But no. That's it.
And you know you won't forget it.
Call you later.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Perfect Lie/ You Are Loved The Way You Are
Stand in front of the mirror
Either boys or girls, some got depression
Try to find yourself underneath the reflection
Dissect each point, seek for perfection
Dreaming of perfection, adore some corrections
Never know the word of satisfy
Already beautiful but admire to modify
Don't you know who really you are?
You are loved by the way you are
Most of us rather see what appeared outside
always forgot to evaluate what lies inside
Most of us deceived by the open eyesight
always fooled because blinded heart-sight
Perfection makes everyone affected
Perfect one is what you wanted
Perfect lie is what you invented
Perfect word only a word that human created
A real you, that what you have neglected
Dear,
Don't feel down,
if u are blessed as jasmine flower
Why must you envy of that sunflower
I know, it is big, sweet yellow, catchy for eyes to look
But, don't you know sunflower adore the way you look?
Hypnotize fragrance by cute in white, posses its own hook
So unfair to compare the different beauty you both look
Jasmine, u never be sunflower even u dressed in yellow
The fake pigment will fade away soon
Sunflower, perfumed never make u placed in jasmine row
The artificial scent will gone before noon
No need to hear anyone to drag you down
Yet thou be like a rose, beauty guarded by thorns
Thankful to have what u have now
You always loved by who you are now
It is always good to be yourself
Better than lost yourself in your own lie
In fantasy, to taste perfection, perfect lie u got
In reality, perfection is only belong to God
And...you are always loved the way you are
*Note: U are beautiful, no matter what people say...
This is for everyone that think they are not good enough
in many aspects not limited to beauty perception
poem by Unwritten Soul
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A Bit Of The Light
I'm not perfect i'm a human
Who sometimes feels strong and says i can
While the judging eyes embrace my strength
At my weakness sometimes i feel a pain
I'm not glad to say that i lie
But i confess that's not nice
But i'm not perfect i'm a human..
....
I'm not perfect i'm a human
The perfection no one has ever got
The perfection means the God
It's one of the eternal beauties of my God
But as long as l survive l know that i'll try to do
And i'll give my best sacrifice
May i can be a candle to light other's dark
That makes me feel satisfied
What a lucky is that who can leave footprints when he's gone
The one who can make a change
To make the world a better place for my fellow man
....
What a precious and a lucky is the one who can sacrifice his time for the hospitality of the humanity
Those noble heroes never die
Those who give never die
Eternally their names at the sky bright shines
....
The poverty and the wars are surrounded all the world
May the justice and love of God guides all the humanity to the road of light
May never earthly things enslaved your minds
With the love and forgiveness may you seek freedom and the peaceful delights
No one ever will find the freedom and the peace
While snatching away other's right to survive
That's not fair for the sake of God..
I'm not a perfect one i'm not a beast
I'm just the one who's heart beats
While looking to those crying kids
No one can ban me writing about innocent tears
May I can be a bit of the light among all these darknesses and fears
I'm not a preacher
Not a crown angel with white wings
Just i'm the one who cannot bear to see
The crying doves among the beasts
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Psalm 119 part 7
Imperfection of nature, and perfection of scripture.
ver. 96, paraphrased.
Let all the heathen writers join
To form one perfect book;
Great God! if once compared with thine,
How mean their writings look!
Not the most perfect rules they gave
Could show one sin forgiv'n,
Nor lead a step beyond the grave;
But thine conduct to heav'n.
I've seen an end to what we call
Perfection here below;
How short the powers of nature fall,
And can no further go!
Yet men would fain be just with God
By works their hands have wrought;
But thy commands, exceeding broad,
Extend to every thought.
In vain we boast perfection here,
While sin defiles our frame,
And sinks our virtues down so far,
They scarce deserve the name.
Our faith, and love, and every grace,
Fall far below thy word;
But perfect truth and righteousness
Dwell only with the Lord.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Perfection
Hush little baby, gotta be strong
cause in this world we are born to fight
Be the best prove them wrong
A winners work is never done
Reach the top number one
Perfection...
Oh perfection
You drive me crazy with perfection
Ive worn my pride as my perfection
Perfection....oh!
I was taught to be tough
That the best that you can be aint enough
Crack the whip, sacrifice
But I found out paradise had a price
I didnt know it then
But oh I know it now
You gotta work as hard at love
To make the love work out
You know this heart of mine
Had made some big mistakes
I guess that when it comes to love
I just dont know what it takes...
Chorus:
All my life Ive been driven by perfection
Pushed it to the limit every day and night
Whoa...Ive been driven by perfection
But nothins perfect when love aint right
Nothins perfect when love aint right
Gave it all played my part
I gave everything I had but my heart
Worked so hard made a name
But the loneliness inside stays the same
When love is here to today
And then its gone today
You got a list of lovers like a resume
You gotta take some times
To make it something real
I guess that when it comes to love
I just dont know how to feel
Chorus repeat
Oh perfection
You drive me crazy with perfection
Ive worn my pride as my perfection
Im goin crazy with perfection
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Woman at the Crossroad Who Laughed
As I walked up the pavement, up the slight hill
to the traffic lights at the crossroads outside the station,
I saw her waiting to cross.
Or rather, I saw first, her laugh..
She held the hand of her son
as she exchanged words with a passing friend
and laughed..
and what I saw in her eyes, her whole face,
as she laughed, was that as she laughed -
(did she know this? How could I tell her, a stranger?
Lady, lady, at the crossroad of our lives,
I’m writing this poem for you now…)
as she laughed, while she laughed,
I saw that she was in touch, the whole of her,
with her deepest self – just that… all that…
and as I saw that self, which was
(Lady, are you reading this?)
the perfection of perfection, all that’s perfect…
it was as if – no, it was just so –
her self looked at me, and so
the perfect looked at the perfect;
herself and mine together laughed,
laughed at imperfection
and as the perfect looked, it saw perfection
spreading through my eyes from our shared self
so that her son was perfect; and her friend was perfect;
and all around us, every they and it were perfect..
(Lady, Lady, at the Cross’s foot,
was it like this for You?)
the light turned green. And we were free
to cross the road; and
free to live; and
free to laugh away illusion; and
free to be ourselves; forever,
in that time which is forever.
Lady, by my faith, this by my hand;
and with my life I do yet swear
upon my life, this to be true;
Lady, hear, in this my orison,
there are no sins
to be remembered.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bare Truth
I am in the present perfect
Where I have always been,
Finally reaching
Something of my own
Which makes tomorrow
A day worth following...
As I rise with the orange glow
Of an enterprising ideal
That is too ardent
And possessive to let go...
I may be unknown and alone,
But the real one is ready
Apart from here
And has become part of the world
I am striving for...
Separating the many
Halves of me
And sorting them
Into the infinite good or bad
I am most likely to succeed...
The Cause is the ideal,
The ideal is the principle
And the tempter's key
Which unlocks or fastens
The door of immortality...
poem by Romeo Della Valle (2011)
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Yogi post-it to William Carlos Williams
Thanks for leaving one…
I can only say,
that in the passing moment
the cold perfection of that plum
reflected my perfection
reflecting all perfection
and the beauty of that moment
was but my own beauty
which must be, is, the beauty of the One
so I hope the remainder
were as perfect, beautiful
for you
so why not
write a poem about this?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Human Work Of Art
No one on earth means more to me
Your painted pictures are the way that the world
Should be
Dont ever change it, I dont wanna live in this
World without you
Oh no
I cant explain, I cant define
What you do to me, but my senses are so alive
You tell your story and its all that I ever believe
Portraits and poetry are frozen forms of perfection
But they dont live and breathe
When my hearts in need they dont answer me
You - ooo oooh you are, youre a human work of art
Walking, talking inspiration
You - ooo oooh you are, youre a human work of art
You make me love, you make me care
You give me freedom I dont need when I know
Youre there
My search is over Ive got all of the riches that
Money dont buy, oh no
Your words are poetry and your face is more than
Perfection
The way I watch you move it only goes to prove
In everything to do
You - oooh oooh you are, youre a human work of art
Walking, talking inspiration
You - ooooh ooh you are, youre a human work of art
Youre my mission
Youre my goal
Oooh you liberate my soul
Theres no illusion, that your touch is gold
Portraits and poetry are frozen forms of perfection
The way I watch you move it only goes to prove
In everything you do
You - oooh oooh you are, youre a human work of art
Walking, talking new sensation
You - ooooh oooh you are, youre a human work of art
Walking, talking inspiration
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The biological task of science is to provide the fully developed human individual with as perfect a means of orientating himself as possible. No other scientific ideal can be realised, and any other must be meaningless.
quote by Ernst Mach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A day spent without the sight or sound of beauty, the contemplation of mystery, or the search of truth or perfection is a poverty-stricken day; and a succession of such days is fatal to human life.
quote by Lewis Mumford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Images-Perfection Ever Flames, An Endless Supply of Moths
As I am,
I'm perceived Perfection
upon my ivory pedestal
in brilliant light
crystalline.
But these are my prison walls
Uniques Glow
is Perfection's Pall
which exiles me from that outer world
of reality.
I cannot mingle there.
My existence is constrained.
As bright as my Radiant Glow,
upon approach
to your world
I would dim
and be destroyed.
We can talk you and I
in Perfection's Harmony
but the moment you gain
my speaking voice,
my thoughts,
all is taken from Perfection's Shelf
and another less perfect me appears.
Nothing will compare
to me as I was.
Should I
in coming to you
destroy that Perfection which is now so dear?
Conundrum.
Corporeal life
is Kryptonite
yet mental isolation is too numbing.
I am Beauty in the light
but unavailable;
forever Uncoming.
Sometimes
Beauty is torture
we ourselves inflict
to escape our worldly life.
But since its shape
is mental most
it cannot ever be.
Pity the person
whose countenance
is corporeal beauty
realized;
they will have the sterner test
of not living up to hearts image most.
Each prince
whom we have constructed
alas, can only live with us
til that moment first,
the single word;
then the dream slips.
Honeymoons and marriages
might last longer I think
if we did not first wed
our Perfect Prince beforehand.
Is it not truth plain
that love itself is only grown
when 1st Prince Born
is laid to rest
and Prince Now
is allowed to live?
How better ground is it
to love the flower in the garden now
than those ones first grown
in Furrows of Gold
in Dream World
where Perfection's Hoe
was Loves Seeder
and Instigator
of the visions
we now hold
of what ought to be?
How can we in flesh and blood
compete with perfect diamond visions
which never fade or rust?
Whose hand is warmer still
than the Princely hand held in our dreams?
Who is sadder than
those who loved us;
yet whose faces are shadowed
by cold, Perfection's Glow?
How to dream
our destiny
yet still
love those
'round us;
remembering these ones
are the ones who will
when we, in time, tomorrow
are no longer our Own Prince
or Princess Image;
no longer Perfection's Darling.
Rest you better in Human Arms;
while they grow old and leather
they'll not in the end
take your pride and sell it away
to Dream Land Barons
and Rock Star Princes
who all live in Hollywood.
What to do?
abandon Vision
goals and Prince;
leave aside Destiny?
No, we must grapple with
this conundrum sent:
wrapped up
Perfection and Beauty;
living along side
uneasily,
with what is merely Human,
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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