Flute
There are too many holes
In the life of the flute
one by one he copes
and never bothers
the ignominious
as each holes brings
an equal opportunity
life is a beauty
so he harps
on regular intervals
utilizing the maximum
the entity rhythm
out of each and every one
makes a tune ethereal
and beautiful.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Related quotes
Y - hole- 9+2=11
Lucky at this hole.
Watchout - they steal holes.
WHO-WHO-WHO
Not them - them.
Flowing sands-sands-sands and man.
Catch infinite vibes - MAN.
HOLES-HOLES-HOLES
Gone hole insane, hole insane - PAINS.
Peephole, porthole, volcano hole.
HOLES FOR SALE 'smart guy'.
HOLES FOR SALE 'smart guy'.
Sells nothing - makes money - SMART.
HOLES FOR SALE
LUCKY, , , bought a hole....SMART.
Donut holes-Bagel holes - *FOR SALE*.
Never thought about holes before.
LUCKY, , , at the, , , , ,11 hole.
LUCKY-LUCKY-LUCKY - 'knows'.
HOLES FOR SALE - {sale day}
SALE DAY - SALE DAY - SALE DAY
HOLES FOR SALE
2/27/2009 Joe Poewhit
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
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Holes get filled
Holes in skills, the voice fills them.
Holes in voice, the skill fills them.
Holes in both, the tune fills them.
Holes in all, the figure fills them
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Flute - a triolet
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air.
Most natural, magical, musical instrument.
Makes melodious the complete atmosphere
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air.
In hands of Lord Krishna, Hindus wish to be flute.
In tranquillity, ears sense celestial experience.
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air;
Most natural, magical, musical instrument.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Book Of Black Holes
You be on yourside
I'll be on my side
In between there is a book
the book of Black Holes
You sling your arrows
I'll dodge the harrows
And then I'll record it
In the book of Black Holes
There be many pages
that goes through many stages
In the end you may find it
In the book of Black Holes
If it's a five or ten
Even a zero I win
And I have recorded it
In the book of Black Holes
Your comments cryptic
Your words haze, eliptic
And like I said goes down
In the book of Black Holes
Your choice to be insipid
Your dreams are timid
Compared to what's collected
In my book of Black Holes
poem by Midnights Voice
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Ghana's Most Beautiful
When drums are head
when beads on the ankle rattle
when flute gives it traditional rhythm
one thing comes in mind, the lives of our fathers
the rhythm of their heart beat.
Their quest for unity. We display them
We are Ghana's most beautiful
the eyes of our region.
We represent our culture and the beauty of
Ghanaians.
Our culture and hospitality makes alien natives
of our land
we are Ghana's most beautiful.
We are women of diverse culture
but common history.
We use beauty to promote unity
we use beauty to discourage conflict.
We use beauty to tell you, your history.
We are Ghana's most beautiful
the eyes of our society.
poem by Lovett Listowell
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First Lady
Hello my little butterfly in my room,
What message do you have for me as at now?
For your beautiful colours reminds me of yester years,
And like the little First Lady closer to me next door.
The beginning of your puberty is now known to us and,
You will be taken care of by the ladies at the Ladies Island;
For the rules of this life lies between the green holes and the red holes,
So do give glory to your Father who is in the heavens!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Holes
There's three in the wall from those pictures in the closet
Two in the bedroom from that night I lost it
One deep inside me determined to stay
They don't get any bigger but they don't go away
Holes in and around me I keep falling back into
Holes digging its around me
God knows what I'm gonna do
To fill in these holes left by you
Left by you
I pour drink after drink but nothing hit bottom
I've been on my knees admitted my problem
The love that we made still barely an echo
I'll try anything in these vacant hollow
Holes in and around me I keep falling back into
Holes digging its around me
God knows what I'm gonna do
To fill in these holes left by you
Left by you
There's two through my hands and one through my feet
From this cross that I bare to the day that I see
Its guilt and its blame its shame and its love
song performed by by Rascal Flatts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Totalimmortal
Hope unknown
Sometimes just waking is surreal
I walk right through the nameless ones
I know that
Hope's unknown
Sometimes the water feels so real
As I walk through it fills
My lungs, my god, I'm drowning
This day never seems to end
This pain, never
This day never seems to end
This rage I can not let go
Oh, oh
Hear them calling
Oh oh oh, oh
Feel them gnawing out holes
Oh oh oh
Holes through flawless souls
Oh oh
Hear them calling
Oh oh oh, oh
Feel them gnawing out holes
Oh oh
Holes through flawless souls
So alone
Sometimes I swear that i can hear
The taunting of the voiceless ones
I fear that
I alone
Fear those who finally cease to feel
That they're alone inside this place
I am the misplaced
This day never seems to end
This pain, never
This day never seems to end
This rage I can not let go
Oh, oh
Hear them calling
Oh oh oh, oh
Feel them gnawing out holes
Oh oh oh
Holes through flawless souls
Oh oh
Hear them calling
Oh oh oh, oh
Feel them gnawing out holes
Oh oh
Holes through flawless souls
Now every face, it looks familiar
Then every face would melt away until
Now everyone
Do you know
I know your deception
Now every face, it looks familiar
Then every face would melt away until
Now everyone
Do you know
I know your deception
Oh, oh
Hear them calling
Oh oh oh, oh
Feel them gnawing out holes
Oh oh oh
Holes through flawless souls
Oh oh
Hear them calling
Oh oh oh, oh
Feel them gnawing out holes
Oh oh
Holes through flawless souls
Oh, oh
Hea
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Souls and Holes
Value some their souls whole
And wear with pride soles with holes,
Others pierce their souls with holes
And flaunt their fancy soles whole.
Blessed those with souls whole
Wearing with pride soles whole,
Lucky those with holes in souls
Suffering bites of holes in soles.
poem by Vinod Sharma
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The Beauty Of A Poem
The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Old School Shirt
Im just mad about my old school shirt
*the tales they are embossed
The things of all those kids and that old center school
*all those kids are last/lost
*them kids are last/lost
*theyre last/lost
Im just mad about that old radio
The tunes that it used to play
How come you aint singing now well
Did our voices get away
Well did they get away
Get away
Ill be shooting holes in the sky to make it rain, make it the same
Shooting holes in the sky once again.
Im just mad about all those people
Who came but did not stay
They sit so quietly my memories
Gone but not on me
Shooting holes in the sky to make it rain, make it the same
Shooting holes in the sky once again.
Shooting holes in the sky to make it rain, make it the same
Shooting holes in the sky once again.
Caught in a headlock, I wanted to be the same
Caught in a headlock, I wanted to be the same
Caught in a headlock, I wanted to be the same
Caught in a headlock, I wanted to be the same
Again.
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Absent Tune
In everything we do lies a melody
that absent tune we cannot hear.
Some call it the rhythm of life
that follows us step by step
as we walk our life through.
Love has a crazy beat,
which we all dance to,
young and old, no matter who.
Whether it be winter, spring, summer or fall.
Love’s crazy beat captures us all
and makes us dance to its tune.
Like life’s absent melody
we cannot hear it,
only feel its tug on our shoulder
that makes us turn around
and dance to its tune.
We cannot resist no matter what
as it is part of life’s melody
that absent tune we cannot hear.
The one we must always obey
whenever it rings in our ear.
12 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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Freedom Song
I sing for Freedom, from now on
I touch,
I see,
I hear,
I breathe,
I taste
“Freedom Freedom”
The sea and her waves sing “Freedom Freedom”
The ebb and the flow take me by the hand and dance once and again,
Rise and fall,
Up and down
That’s the rhythm of life
That's the rhythm of our dance too
To the rhythm of the Freedom Song they feel good,
I feel nice, I feel free
The tune was made by birds
Do,
Re,
Mi,
Fa,
Sol,
La,
Si
They compose
The Azure makes the song more and more splendid
The Great Smoky Mountains sings too Freedom Freedom
The sunbeam increases the song rhythm
The soft breeze makes the leaves clap,
Unconsciously my body keeps shivering
All flowers smile and sway on the rhythm of the Freedom Song
Freedom Freedom that’s all I feel,
That’s all they say, that’s all they sing and tune
What great moments! ! !
***Freedom Forever & Ever
{July 04,2009}
poem by Glamorous Enigma
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The Rhythm Of Life
The rhythm of life is like an endless melody
and goes on regardless of where we might be.
Throughout the day and all during the night
it never stops tho’ it’s not obvious to sight.
When the sun rises and again when it sets
that rhythm of life all things never forgets.
With each coming and going to and fro
we’re all part of its main working show.
In birth and death as in growth and decay
all creatures have their moments of play.
In the heavens above and on the earth below
one after another they all must come and go.
With the ebb and flow of each wave in the ocean
it’s apparently like a ceaseless rhythmic motion;
tho’ they’re caused by the moon’s gravitational pull,
and is itself also subjected to being either new or full.
In the four seasons of the year and all the changes they bring,
as the earth revolves around the sun, affect every living thing.
By these regular distinct cycles each lasting its period of time
it’s a universal ongoing phenomenon and never ending rhyme.
Whether we like it or not it embraces us all in its sway
and our affairs in this world enjoy their night and day.
It makes order gradually come forth out of chaos it seems
and helps us all to survive and even realize some dreams.
We all have certain basic needs and so many wants or desires
and flowing with the rhythm of life all in harmony transpires.
If we have unnatural obsessions by which our mind is caught
then it’s freedom with a high price that is actually most sought.
This rhythm of life has an existence and power of its own
and all that does ever happen by it unmistakably is known.
When we become in tune with its reality and stay in touch
all that goes on in the world will be to our benefit as such.
poem by George Krokos
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What is delivered matters
A broomstick is dirty.
By it, the room is tidy.
A teacher has holes.
He plugs the students’ holes.
Forget the defects of the beloved.
12.12.2001, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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He's Bothered Again!
Where are they?
Do they have him?
Will they know?
And troubled is he
Disturbed is he
Am I troubled?
How much bothered can his soul get?
Bothered about his own life
Bothered about bothering about his life
Bothered about wealth
Bothered about bothering about wealth
And weaker and weaker he is as the day go by
And worse still shall be his story
Because he is bothered about nature
And things in it
But he is never bothered about aiding nature
Or the things in it
Such person,
I am bothered about
Because he bothers to effect no change
And bothers that he hasn't effected a change
And why he did not effect any change
But not how he could effect such change
He also bothers about those who aren't bothered
He bothers for them
His stupidity is the source of their livelihood
He bothers why they do not bother
He bothers about those who effect changes
He bothers how long it took for such change
He bothers the risk taken
He never bothers how they do it
But he bothers if they were a bandit
And everyday, he keeps bothering
And knows not that he bothers his life
And his health
And his sanity
But those who bother aren't stupid
Except if they bother like he does
poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
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Life Bottled is Death
I am a butterfly
I flitter about
I rest awhile
I soar
What makes me beautiful?
I could keep you guessing for hours.
Capture me with a lid and bowl
I will die before your eyes.
My wings loose desire, life vanishes from my soul.
As I sit in despair my heart returns to the cocoon.
Look at what you are missing,
life without rhythm to a butterflies tune.
Trust in the nature of a thing.
A butterfly flitters and flies,
it may return it may go.
Isn't that what makes it truly beautiful?
Who would watch a butterfly if we already knew it's next move?
Trust in the nature of a thing.
For a butterfly is always a butterfly
whether resting or soaring,
or tightly wrapped in a cocoon.
poem by Sarah Hughes
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Empty Holes
Fill up the empty holes in my life.
Fill them before it's too late.
Find the missing qualities I have
and let the emptiness abate.
Recognition of these things I need
must be foremost in my mind.
Or the empty holes that need attention
will probably be left behind.
They will follow me like burned out stars
that cannot shine again.
And the emptiness I feel inside
will mark my journey's end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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History
History has to live with what was here,
clutching and close to fumbling all we had--
it is so dull and gruesome how we die,
unlike writing, life never finishes.
Abel was finished; death is not remote,
a flash-in-the-pan electrifies the skeptic,
his cows crowding like skulls against high-voltage wire,
his baby crying all night like a new machine.
As in our Bibles, white-faced, predatory,
the beautiful, mist-drunken hunter's moon ascends--
a child could give it a face: two holes, two holes,
my eyes, my mouth, between them a skull's no-nose--
O there's a terrifying innocence in my face
drenched with the silver salvage of the mornfrost.
poem by Robert Lowell
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Can man succeed in his try?
God wanted man to die soon,
But man wanted to defy.
The soul inclined to obey
But the body stood to deny.
Once beasts and snakes made man die.
Then worms and germs took their toll.
Then virus became fatal.
Man overcame them and plugged the holes.
Now cancer has made a big hole,
Through which lot of souls slip out.
God sent agents to make holes
In the bodies for the souls to slip.
Man finds way to plug the holes.
Can man succeed in his try?
05.02.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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