Poetics
- You're betraying Poetry again, you'll tell me,
Man's most sacred expression
You're using it again as a means, a pack-mule
For your sinister objectives
In full knowledge of the damage you're doing
To the young through your example.
- Tell me what you have not betrayed
You and your kind, for years and years,
Bartering your possessions one by one
In international markets and common bazaars
So you're left without eyes to see, without ears
To hear, with lips sealed and you say nothing.
For which of man's sacred rights are you arraigning us?
I know: preaching and rhetoric again, you'll say.
Well, yes! Preaching and rhetoric.
Words have to be hammered like nails.
If they're not to be lost in the wind.
poem by Manolis Anagnostakis from The Target (1970), translated by David Conolly
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Rhetoric (Acrostic)
: Rhetoric (Acrostic) 090a
Rhetoric is the art of polish and refinement.
Harlot verbiage moving from context to context.
Every now and then causing simple mis-judgement.
Tenses abound within rhetorical speeches.
Orator! When will you, if ever, learn?
Rhetoric shows up many words to be sinful.
Independent, discreet as a testified secret.
Cant saturation, dismiss rhetoric to Limbo.
poem by Philip Winchester
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do not suppose, dearest Sir, that I am so short-sighted as to destroy my life by English preaching, or any other preaching. St. Paul did much good by his preaching, but how much more by his writings.
quote by Henry Martyn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry in me
There is poetry in me as a nail hammered in a wood,
My wheel of poetry keeps on willing to rhyme in the hood,
To me poetry has became precious, sacred and cool,
Poetry must be the general talk and walk in every neighborhood,
To me poetry is the way of life; I connect through poetry,
I speak poetry for a reason in any season in any occasion,
For people to take decisions in their missions to make their
Visions spray in between the frame to make dreams vividly.
My poetry is a gasping wind beating blowing in human desires.
I blow away the spirit of self-pity to self-esteem.
When thrown to the crowd I blow with poetry to make hard stone attitude
To calm anger, tempestuous storm to be calmed and soul dry rivers to flow,
The massager in me never favor denial but emotion expression,
This passion in me is a seed for generations to come up to existence.
poem by Phinda Mkhonta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tomb of Evrion
In this tomb—ornately designed,
the whole of syenite stone,
covered by so many violets, so many lilies—
lies handsome Evrion,
an Alexandrian, twenty-five years old.
On his father's side, he was of old Macedonian stock,
on his mother's side, descended from a line of magistrates.
He studied philosophy with Aristokleitos,
rhetoric with Paros, and at Thebes
the sacred scriptures. He wrote a history
of the province of Arsinoites. That at least will survive.
But we've lost what was really precious: his form—
like a vision of Apollo.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rhetoric is a poor substitute for action, and we have trusted only to rhetoric. If we are really to be a great nation, we must not merely talk we must act big.
quote by Theodore Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rhetoric does not get you anywhere, because Hitler and Mussolini are just as good at rhetoric. But if you can bring these people down with comedy, they stand no chance.
quote by Mel Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rhetoric is a poor substitute for action, and we have trusted only to rhetoric. If we are really to be a great nation, we must not merely talk; we must act big.
quote by Theodore Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For The Love Of Man
For the love of man
For the love of man, he gave his life
For the love of man, he took no wife.
He started preaching at a very young age, for gods spirit
Was embedded in his soul, and the words he spoke
Were the words he was told.
People gathered around him to hear what he had to say
Some would leave, but most would stay.
He had such beautiful eyes that would put you in a trance
It would make you so happy, that you felt you had to dance.
The people were overwhelmed with the feelings that they had inside.
They would fall to the ground, and just begin to cry.
He had such love and compassion for his fellow man
And with everyone around him-they all did understand.
He grew into manhood still preaching the word of GOD.
And picked his twelve apostles, which he knew he had to do.
For these were the ones, that would have to follow through.
They would continue to carry the words and miracles that he had done.
And it spread like wildfire under the setting sun.
But unknown to the apostles, they were also blessed
For their belief and love passed the final test.
Whenever they spoke of JESUS, a miracle was left behind.
The sightless gained sight, the crippled began to walk
The deaf began to hear, and the mutes began to talk.
All of this started because the love of man.
This is all GOD wanted, for us to take a stand.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sound Of War
When all the bombs are silenced
When all the dust has died
When all the planes of violence
Are stored all safe inside
When all the crumbled buildings
Just teeter on the brink
When water lies in every street
Yet none is fit to drink
When politicians preaching
Of peace and healing sores
Just fail to see they're teaching
The young to fight in wars
When rhetoric and violence
Are met with with much the same
The guns will not be silenced
The killing still remains.
When families are slaughtered
And Generals hold the sway
Sure tell our sons and daughters
That no-one wins today.
poem by Dave James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Years of Tears
Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sacred Election
Sacred
sacred right,
the right to vote.
Sacred
sacred right
to be elected.
The people's votes are tallied
The best choice is declared.
Let no one manipulate the result
Let no one tamper the votes
Let no one buy people's votes
and strip the voters
their sacred right to choose.
Let this election
truly reflect
people's sacred rights.
___________________
November 6,2012
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Awakening Means....
awakening means....
i can hear you!
i can see you!
i can taste you!
i can feel you!
i breathe in our suffering,
i breathe out our freedom.
awakening means...
no need for a name!
no need for possessions.
no need to conquer!
no need to convert!
i breathe in our humanity,
i breathe out our equality.
awakening means....
i cannot help but care!
i am already involved.
i am immersed and drenched.
i have countless forms.
i breathe in our common labor,
i breathe out our sacred journey.
awakening means...
the journey is the destination.
we are the journey.
we are the destination!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dis poetry
Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops
De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots
Dis poetry is designed fe rantin
Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,
Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep
Preaching follow me
Like yu is blind sheep,
Dis poetry is not Party Political
Not designed fe dose who are critical.
Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed
It gets into me dreadlocks
It lingers around me head
Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike
IÕve tried Shakespeare, respect due dere
But did is de stuff I like.
Dis poetry is not afraid of going ina book
Still dis poetry need ears fe hear an eyes fe hav a look
Dis poetry is Verbal Riddim, no big words involved
An if I hav a problem de riddim gets it solved,
IÕve tried to be more romantic, it does nu good for me
So I tek a Reggae Riddim an build me poetry,
I could try be more personal
But youÕve heard it all before,
Pages of written words not needed
Brain has many words in store,
Yu could call dis poetry Dub Ranting
De tongue plays a beat
De body starts skanking,
Dis poetry is quick an childish
Dis poetry is fe de wise an foolish,
Anybody can do it fe free,
Dis poetry is fe yu an me,
DonÕt stretch yu imagination
Dis poetry is fe de good of de Nation,
Chant,
In de morning
I chant
In de night
I chant
In de darkness
An under de spotlight,
I pass thru University
I pass thru Sociology
An den I got a dread degree
In Dreadfull Ghettology.
Dis poetry stays wid me when I run or walk
An when I am talking to meself in poetry I talk,
Dis poetry is wid me,
Below me an above,
Dis poetry's from inside me
It goes to yu
WID LUV.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enoch Dunlap
How many times, during the twenty years
I was your leader, friends of Spoon River,
Did you neglect the convention and caucus,
And leave the burden on my hands
Of guarding and saving the people's cause? --
Sometimes because you were ill;
Or your grandmother was ill;
Or you drank too much and fell asleep;
Or else you said: "He is our leader,
All will be well; he fights for us;
We have nothing to do but follow."
But oh, how you cursed me when I fell,
And cursed me, saying I had betrayed you,
In leaving the caucus room for a moment,
When the people's enemies, there assembled,
Waited and watched for a chance to destroy
The Sacred Rights of the People.
You common rabble! I left the caucus
To go to the urinal.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Still Crazy After All These Years
Words & music by paul simon
I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy afler all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years
Im not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways
And I aint no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy afler all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years
Four in the morning
Crapped out, yawning
Longing my life a--way
Ill never worry
Why should i?
Its all gonna fade
Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars
I fear Ill do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy
Still crazy
Still crazy after all these years
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Years Go By
Tell me how the years go by
Its been a long long time
Tell me how your plans fell through
And how you changed your mind
Tell me bout the hearts you broke
How many have you known
Tell me how the years went by
And left you all alone
Tell me dear
I want to hear
bout the lost and wasted years
Tell me when now tell me why
Tell me how the years go by
Tell me how the years go by
Like borrowed dancing shoes
That gather dust beneath your ned
Mislaid and seldom used
Like a heart that haunts a phone booth
On a corner far from home
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Close your eyes
Tell me what do you see
Its an imperfect world
Still we dream perfect dreams
Its no big surprise when were down on our knees
Truth isnt always what we will believe.
Tell me how the years go by
In seasons at your door
And how the things you left me for
Dont matter anymore
Tell me how the more we learn
The more we leave unknown
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Alone
Close your eyes (x3)
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fifty Eight Years
fifty eight years,
step after step...
pathways of stone,
of water, of wind...
no footprints behind.
small fires on dark nights,
waves of stillness opening...
the eyes of the breathing surround.
touch! touch!
echoing against the roar.
words sealed on paper
for future fires!
when scars become gifts
left on strangers' doorsteps...
for there are no strangers,
soul unto soul.
step after step,
rain falling softly.
smoke from the chimney,
hangs like a prayer.
face to face,
lips touching lips,
a small bag of dreams
left under a child's pillow.
fifty eight years.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Across the Sea Along the Shore
Across the sea, along the shore,
In numbers more and ever more,
From lonely hut and busy town,
The valley through, the mountain down,
What was it ye went out to see,
Ye silly folk Galilee?
The reed that in the wind doth shake?
The weed that washes in the lake?
The reeds that waver, the weeds that float?
A young man preaching in a boat.
What was it ye went out to hear
By sea and land from far and near?
A teacher? Rather seek the feet
Of those who sit in Moses' seat.
Go humbly seek, and bow to them,
Far off in great Jerusalem.
From them that in her courts ye saw,
Her perfect doctors of the law,
What is it came ye here to note?
A young man preaching in a boat.
A prophet! Boys and women weak!
Declare, or cease to rave;
Whence is it he hath learned to speak?
Say, who his doctrine gave?
A prophet? Prophet wherefore he
Of all in Israel tribes?
He teacheth with authority,
And not as do the Scribes.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I shall make some slips no doubt, and shall perhaps talk in second-hand language, but not for long: the living image of what I saw will always be with me and will always correct and guide me. Oh, I am full of courage and freshness, and I will go on and on if it were for a thousand years! Do you know, at first I meant to conceal the fact that I corrupted them, but that was a mistake — that was my first mistake! But truth whispered to me that I was lying, and preserved me and corrected me. But how stablish paradise — I don't know, because I do not know how to put it into words. After my dream I lost command of words. All the chief words, anyway, the most necessary ones. But never mind, I shall go and I shall keep talking, I won't leave off, for anyway I have seen it with my own eyes, though I cannot describe what I saw. But the scoffers do not understand that. It was a dream, they say, delirium, hallucination. Oh! As though that meant so much! And they are so proud! A dream! What is a dream? And is not our life a dream? I will say more. Suppose that this paradise will never come to pass (that I understand), yet I shall go on preaching it. And yet how simple it is: in one day, in one hour everything could be arranged at once!
quote by Dostoyevsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Doubt Full
This letter explains everything
The content it is the truth
Each word could cut like daggers if I
Decide to finally give it to you
I've rewrote and rechecked a thousand times
Licked it shut and said my goodbyes
The lines are perfectly written
To break wide open this conclusion
And it feels like
I've already been there
Sounds like Im preaching the choir
If it feels like it wont work out
Im the one full of doubt
I know that time
Wont change a thing
If were all moving in slow motion
Its hard to catch up
When the world is weighing you down
And it feels like
I've already been here
Sounds like im preaching the choir
If it feels like it wont work out
Im the one full of doubt
Im confused
Dont know what I should do now
You could lose everything close to you
Tell me how does this feel
And it feels like
I've already been here
Sounds like im preaching the choir
If it looks like it wont work out
Im the one full of doubt x 3
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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