Show your bluebell passion with every step you take. Infuse your corporeal mind, body and spirit with atomic sense of urgency, purpose and apple juice.
quote by Isabel Yosito
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little about passion
Passion kills,
Passion thrills,
Passion fills,
with a sense of purpose..........
Passion may chill,
Passion makes ill,
Passion is still,
Pain mistaken as passion........
(2 7/Jan'/'09)
poem by Mahfooz Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Apple Scruffs
Now Ive watched you sitting there
Seen the passers-by all stare
Like you have no place to go
But theres so much they dont know about apple scruffs
Youve been stood around for years
Seen my smiles and touched my tears
How its been a long, long time
And how youve been on my mind, my apple scruffs
Apple scruffs, apple scruffs
How I love you, how I love you
In the fog and in the rain
Through the pleasures and the pain
On the step outside you stand
With your flowers in your hand, my apple scruffs
While the years they come and go
Now, your love must surely show me
That beyond all time and space
Were together face to face, my apple scruffs
Apple scruffs, apple scruffs
How I love you, how I love you
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Apples
I love apples,
Apples have crunch,
Lovely red apples,
Red, pink color, punch.
I love apple pies,
Family ties,
I love apple juice,
I call it zapple juice,
Without the fizz,
Or sugary twist,
Healthy fibre, Apple is.
My search
What is it that i am lookin for here and there
I have everything for what my heart cares
Then why am i feeling so restless inside
That deep sinking feeling haunts me besides
Am i feeling that life is passing me by
I have so much to do learn and try
I was told i am here for a purpose well set
I am searching so hard i 've fumed and fret
What is that passion everyone talks about
Heavens help me aloud if you care i shout
Is it something that in this birth i wont discover
A mystery a dilemma unheard uncovered
In a haze i see myself walking with pride
Waving at hordes who look at me as a guide
Then i wake up my Dream all shattered
My Soul my heart in pieces all scatterd
For i am living each day as it comes
With no purpose no passion to talk of under the sun
Master of the universe i beg and plead
Show me the road to my passion that leads
Before my Soul gives up and gives away
I want to know my purpose my passion i pray
i want to know my purpose my passion i pray
poem by Rima Sharda
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Tricks Are For Kicks
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
But few can come to see,
Or agree upon a need...
To dismiss those old tricks,
That have not yet to fix...
And economy that bleeds,
From kaput hypocrisies.
It must be faced quick,
How foolish the risks...
Of wishing to succeed,
With kaput hypocrisies.
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
But few can come to see,
Or agree upon a need...
To dismiss those old tricks,
That have not yet to fix...
An economy that bleeds,
From kaput hypocrisies.
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve...
Attracts a jeopardy,
In reach!
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
And...
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.
There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
And...
Tricks are for kicks.
Tricks are for kicks.
Tricks are for kicks.
Tricks are for kicks.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Way To Create Meaning
there is nothing
wrong with
believing that when we
die
we simply return
to our
original nature
atomic particles
reduced neurons
roving neutrons
simply
untangled from
a body
it can be harsh
it can be truthfully harsh
but i am given
a choice
whether to be
literal or
figurative
whether to see
a landscape
or simply an
array of
random particles
floating in
air in silence
meaninglessly
what makes me distinct
is my imagination
as of now i am
a body
with all my senses
on
when i die
i can still be
a flying spirit
unseen
and still as
beautiful as
i think myself
to be
even if death
reduces me into
atomic particles
i can still
dance in the
mystery of
my own
fantasy
i refuse to be
simply
a meaningless set
of dust
beneath the
feet of
this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet- Mind Is Prime
Let Mind not wander in a dreamy way,
And lose control over its sense-organs;
Sound mind will always have the final say;
The lazy one can make a man a dunce.
Important is the Psyche of earthlings,
Most diseases are psychosomatic;
And Psychedelics are mood changing things,
A mind thats ill can make the body sick.
To train the mind is what we ought to do;
The Lunatic is unsound of his mind;
Emotions are a facet of mind too,
His mind's control, the Yogi tries to find.
Happy's the man with mind and body sound;
His soul and spirit, heavenwards gets bound.
poem by John Celes
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Red Apple, Red Apple
Red apple
Red apple
sitting on the ledge
savouring its nutrients
for a few moments longer
Red apple
Red apple
Savouring its time
That is has left
As a whole
Red apple
Red apple
Traveled such a
Long way, from the store?
Farm? another country?
Red apple
Red apple
Haunting me by
The curiosity of
How juicy you taste
Red apple
Red apple
Shine on,
Red apple
poem by John McAdam
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Bluebell Wood
Children tiptoe through the bluebell wood
making no sound as they go.
It seems like only yesterday
we saw our children play
the games we used to do.
Now we smile at our grandchildren
playing hide and seek
in the same bluebell wood
where we did play.
Our hair maybe silver and white,
but we are still young at heart
and want to join them
tiptoeing through the bluebell wood.
19 March 2011
poem by David Harris
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Set Free
I remember once when your soul was clean
And also the time when that apple was green
The apple it grew from the tree upon its limb
And we matured from children, and grew into women and men
What happened to us then, was truly unforeseen.
I remember that apple, and it I would not pick
Though it was not deliberate or had it been a trick
So it grew all alone and then on the limb it rotted
From age and negligence it was also spotted
Now that apple disagreed with my body's politic.
I read and then I heard stories all about you
Sadly none were lies as they all were on the venue
We had been used and cheated as your soul had waited
Seems that was the purpose, that you were created
Never would I want to act or to become like you.
I read in the news that you had died
My reaction to that news I could not hide
As I remembered that rotten apple falling from the tree
Then it hit the ground, its essence was set free
So for you or the apple, I had not cried.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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We are all born with a mission, a purpose, that only we can fulfill. When you live with a joyful sense of purpose, when you infuse your life with a greater purpose beyond your individual self, every aspect of your karma can become a brilliant facet of your mission. You can transform sorrow and adversity of any sort into joy, stability, health, and prosperity. By changing poison into medicine and accomplishing your inner revolution, you can use every experience of karma to encourage others who suffer from the same problems that you overcame. You can become an ambassador of hope, an essential and radiant treasure of humanity, in which you recognize that all who have
ever lived are members of your extended family. As you continue to spread light in this way, actively doing good in the world, that energy will come back to you in abundant positivity. When you refuse to perpetuate any bad that has been done to you, you can free yourself from the chains of negativity.
quote by Tina Turner
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Apple
red shiny apple
in your
throat, do you still breathe inside your heart?
red shiny apple
between my legs these friends of my thighs
i am a tree and you are that woman
craving for the red shiny apple
in my garden
i do not claim innocence for my wanton actions
before the snake and
my God
i will say i will always love you
bend over me woman and i will lay open my mouth
fill it with your tongue
pour in the drops of apple juice
to my cracking lips
water my garden and fill it with flowers from your hair
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Sonnet 08: If skies were rolled away, like parchment scroll,
If skies were rolled away, like parchment scroll,
And stars faded as in an ended dream,
And world expires, after the bells would toll,
And moon dissolves with not a chunk to gleam;
But should an asteroid be left around,
On which by chance, I might yet safely land,
Hoping, that there you also might be found,
I will ask nothing more, but hold your hand;
But Apocalypse or not, here I am,
Right by your side, with my heart on your palm,
And should this body prove only a sham,
My spirit take, to medicate as balm;
......For it will last being ethereal,
......Though my body is but corporeal.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Apocalyptic Love
If skies were rolled away, like parchment scroll,
And stars faded as in an ended dream,
And world expires, after the bells would toll,
And moon dissolves with not a chunk to gleam;
But should an asteroid be left around,
On which by chance, I might yet safely land,
Hoping, that there you also might be found,
I will ask nothing more, but hold your hand;
But Apocalypse or not, here I am,
Right by your side, with my heart on your palm,
And should this body prove only a sham,
My spirit take, to medicate as balm;
......For it will last being ethereal,
......Though my body is but corporeal.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I certainly believe that being in contact with one's spirit and nurturing one's spirit is as important as nurturing one's body and mind. We are three dimensional beings: body, mind, spirit.
quote by Laurence Fishburne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What Kind Of Poet Is He?
To express oneself with words is to be a poet.
Generally anyone who writes could be considered a poet.
It just to what magnitude, and degree are you?
Do you do it with passion?
Do you do it with a sense fashion? (I try to do it with both, but that is not always achieved. But I always do it with passion for I love to write.)
Does their always have to be a purpose behind it?
Or can you start writing and see where it leads.(A lot of the time that's me, but I do both with and without purpose.)
Do you do it all the time, does come in waves, or is it a one time thing.(For me it comes in waves.)
Is they a trigger, or is it spur of the moment? (Me in general it is triggered by an emotion. It doesn't matter where it comes from either.)
So you see it's not a question of are you a poet, but what kind of poet are you?
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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So Many Need The Lord
There're so many who need The Lord, a truth by some that is ignored,
Even by those who claim to be, bought through the Blood of Calvary,
By God, for a purpose and a plan; to reach for The Savior every man,
From every tribe, tongue and nation, with the truth of God's Salvation.
We've been saved for a mission, to be part of The Great Commission,
Commissioned by Jesus, Himself, to be his witness, not live in stealth.
To live with God's purpose in mind, as we leave earthly desires behind,
As we live in the world for Christ, willing to be for Him a living sacrifice.
Each and every believer knows, this Age of Grace will come to a close,
The time is surely drawing near, when Jesus Christ says 'come up here',
When that trumpet sounds for us, everyone, who truly belong to Jesus,
Taking us from this earth we roam, to be with our Lord in our real home.
This Blessed Hope, we must share, as there may be little time to spare,
This, with many a family and friend, those who aren't ready for the end,
We need urgency and God's zeal, as the time and God's Truth are real,
That only true believers, in Jesus Christ, have that Hope of Eternal Life.
We must ask God to open each heart, so God's Holy Spirit can impart,
God's Truth as The Spirit works in us, believers who know Christ Jesus,
This, as we follow The Spirit's lead, speaking to those, who are in need,
Of the saving Hope in Jesus Christ, that they too, can enter Eternal Life.
Quick Essay On Neutrino Particles
Factual Thesis:
Created by nuclear reactions
from inside the sun
Six thousand billion… neutrino particles
Penetrate your body
every second…of every day
Opinion;
Well…the very thought of atomic particles
Zinging through anything… much less my testicles
is a bit Discomforting
In almost every possible way
Summation:
This might sound low-brow
Or as the Jewish say…“kitschy”
But six thousand billion atomic particles…
Can make a guy… feel really itchy
They’re painless and harmless
But I just don’t like the way
They just Whizz, Right through my skinny body…
Every second…of every day
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abanadi, Sir Am I In Heaven
[ This is a poem with the title as if pronounced with such
a meaning in our dialect ' abanadi siram ay ' in
English ' Oh my God this is so good '
Its with a deep thoughts to a funny poem ]
Bold and beautiful physique
A look alike Hercules to speak
Abanadi as they call him
A man full of vigor and vim
Lovable man by all ladies in town
And be loved to love be drowned
With the juice of heaven
A pleasurable juice from eden
But Abanadi's eye was caught
To a nice lady he never forgot
To Lady Ganda with pleasing personality
Eventhough she is at the age of forty
With winged Cupid Angel from heaven
Coveted them and their love was woven
Lady Ganda finally succumbed to the passion
But she was amazed with such reaction
To the sense of pleasure she nearly die
' Abanadi, Sir am I....am I
in heaven! ' she exclaimed
At the act of passion in her younger years, never experienced
'Abanadi, Sir am I....am I in heaven? '
As she whispers again and again
' This juice of love from heaven, I enjoy '
' I have no clue with this, with such joy '
Why my friends betrayed, and didn't told me before?
That this love so wonderful, had such splendor
Huh.....all my friends are TRAITORS!
poem by Ency Bearis
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Song. Written On A Blank Page In Beaumont And Fletcher's Works
1.
Spirit here that reignest!
Spirit here that painest!
Spirit here that burneth!
Spirit here that mourneth!
Spirit! I bow
My forehead low,
Enshaded with thy pinions!
Spirit! I look
All passion struck,
Into thy pale dominions!
2.
Spirit here that laughest!
Spirit here that quaffest!
Spirit here that danceth!
Spirit here that pranceth!
Spirit! with thee
I join in the glee,
While nudging the elbow of Momus!
Spirit! I flush
With a Bacchanal blush,
Just fresh from the banquet of Comus!
poem by John Keats
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