E.M. Forster

We are not concerned with the very poor. They are unthinkable, and only to be approached by the statistician or the poet.

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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not

The poet I am, and the poet I am not


‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.

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We must dare to think 'unthinkable' thoughts. We must learn to explore all the options and possibilities that confront us in a complex and rapidly changing world. We must learn to welcome and not to fear the voices of dissent. We must dare to think about 'unthinkable things' because when things become unthinkable, thinking stops and action becomes mindless.

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We must dare to think "unthinkable" thoughts. We must learn to explore all the options and possibilities that confront us in a complex and rapidly changing world. We must learn to welcome and not to fear the voices of dissent. We must dare to think about "unthinkable things" because when things become unthinkable, thinking stops and action becomes mindless.

quote by J. William Fulbright (27 March 1964)Report problemRelated quotes
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Before a Poetry Reading

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '

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The big lesson I learned from Hurricane Katrina is that we have to be thinking about the unthinkable because sometimes the unthinkable happens.

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Richard Gere

I'm voting for Gore because the other is unthinkable. Which most of us will probably do. I hope all of us. I've always liked Ralph Nader and would like to see a real third party, but the thought of George Bush as president is unthinkable.

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We must dare to think about "unthinkable things" because when things become "unthinkable" thinking stops and action becomes mindless.

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We must dare to think about unthinkable things because when things become unthinkable thinking stops and action becomes mindless.

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P.s.

P:The statistician and the poet need each other,
But not yet.

S:You need us now.
Without a theory of probability
To guide you -

P:Not the unguided but the unguarded moments
Are the most beautiful

S:Poetry is measure and measure now is population
All signs signify groupings: we count people.

P:There are nonmeasurable groupings that defy
Time and space and run wild as numbers

S:We call that Brownian motion, stochastic.

P:Stochastic rain, stochastic snow, the populace,
The monkeys who sleep in different groups each night
Unpredictable in the rain forest.

S:I seem to remember that image from the work of Cohen,
A statistician of monkey sleeping groups

P:This is the rain forest and it has no scientists
Only invaders, stripminers, depopulaters
The clever critic made a joke about the word
Depopulater and the sophomores laughed.

S:What you need isn't the apocalypse but the apocalyx
Taking off the green shield of the flower
In whose middle you'll find the new peopling

P:Number may be the sine qua non of lyric
But without number lyric is still lyric
Without number or the space or time it yields it is still lyric
But strip statistics of number and there is nothing

S:There is collective rhythm

P:The next dance then?

poem by Aaron FogelReport problemRelated quotes
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Love becomes me

We fly above clouds,
I thought it friendship,
You perceived it companionship,
We became immune,
Love approached us,
Love becomes me

We settled in the mists,
Taking pride in our thoughts,
We never saw it come,
Love approached,
Love became me

We drowned in love,
We became adventurous,
I found you beautiful
You found me handsome
My word i wooed
You were delighted in them
Love approached me,
Love becomes me

We crossed the boundaries,
We got it all long,
And it grew all strong
Love approached me,
It gave a call, i answered,
Love becomes me

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This Poet Is Always Beside You

You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.

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Poet is free

Poet is free
No grammarian can guide the poet
Do not tell before a poet you are dare
And I know there are so many grammarians
With so many grammars
The poet is one with truth with love
All the grammars old middle modern
Are of no use for a poet
At the time of poet's thought
Poet's love poet's poetry
Nobody can search research poet's history
Nobody can dare to described poet
Poet can create his own language
His own grammar and it does not bother the poet
Whether you like it or not
Leave the poet on his own way
It is better you to read him love him
If you are alive.

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Statistician A man who believes figures don't lie, but admits that under analysis some of them won't stand up either.

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I read another poet I could not understand

I READ ANOTHER POET I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND


I read another poet I could not understand
The metaphors racing one after the other
The eternal thoughts taking on a new particular dress
Words and more words
Lines and more lines
Rushing toward meaning and beauty.

And in it all my simple not understanding,
My waiting to hear words that would return to me-
My understanding
That only by my own effort
By my reading again and again
By my willing to believe
Could I make another poet real.

But do I want another poet to be real
When I am a question,
And when there are already others real for me also?

Oh selfish little man oh poor poor reader-

Write your poem alone again
As if no one but you will ever be able to write
The poems which are real.

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Definition of a Statistician: A man who believes figures don't lie, but admits than under analysis some of them won't stand up either.

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The Poet

The poet can only utter the word fine
The poet has to bear the sorrow and the sin.

The poet can only say I am happy
The poet can only say I feel no aches no pain
The poet can only say I am not in loss
The poet can only say I am in the side of only gain.

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My Lune

if loving her unthinkable things happen
like we see in Harlem then living
in Harlem unthinkable things
could happen in the backyard of love
think of a beautiful ballerina
dancer twirling weaving your name
with a juice snaking coiling cascading
with a dagger to your name beats it hard
everybody in funky beat rock shock

and the dance goes on and on and the
music silver shines with the moon and the
dance and the dancers go on and on with the
silver moon high up away from the world

if loving her unthinkable things happen
remember when rain falls on thatch roof
raindrops drip into pans looking dark clean
like glass opaque they light nose-tips of
travelers lightning the long paths ahead

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The right to private property meant at the same time the right and duty to be personally concerned about your own well-being, to be personally concerned about your family's income, to be personally concerned about your future. This is hard work.

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Morning Sunshine

This poet is so seductive
This poet is now strange to me
This poet is so bold
This little girl doesn't want to see

The little girl has known this poet
ever since
But the little girl is already
tired of this poet
She just wants to play.
Not any passing minute
She hasn't have
any word of
allegory
metonymy and
simile
Take me away from this poet yet
the little girl must empty first
the words of this poet
Before she is free to play
in the morning sunshine
and go away from this busy poet

Do you think I'm too young to see?
Do you agree?

This poet won't let me
play out in the middle of the rain
This poet won't let me
see the afternoon sway
This poet won't let me
see the morning gay
Let me see the Morning Sunshine
Let me see!
But this poet
Won't let me

I'll just watch t.v
and sing
her poetry

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The Poets

an old woman poet,
stood behind the table,
doling out plate after plate,
to the line of faces...
taking the time...
to ask each their name.

a young student poet,
jerked from the picket line,
beaten, and arrested...
now sits in jail.

the young man poet,
just home after a 12 hour shift,
went next door and mowed
his elderly neighbor's grass.

a young girl poet,
took in the stray cat,
fed it, and held it...
and rocked it to sleep.

the poor poet,
makes a pallot on the floor
of his empty room,
for the homeless to sleep on.

the old man poet,
goes to work again,
minimum wage with a smile,
to feed his sick wife...

the common poet,
build houses, works on machines,
tills gardens, works on cars...
treats everyone the same...
and no one knows his name!

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