A Trite Condition
In the journey of reading that which seems boring.
That of which seems bland.
For some in time a vocabulary will expand.
For some in time ideas of the new and unused become the foundation in which they stand.
For some it is not about this though.
As much learning is important, so is expressing oneself in ways they have yet do.
A dictation of words heard.
A repetition of slurs spilt upon the page.
Para phrases that continue to blur.
A melting pot one continues to try to stir.
A mix in posture, as if standing in one position too long dulls the mind.
An important muscle we are always trying exercise.
A reflection of who we are.
And we use paper as the mirror.
Adjusting the proportion as we see fit.
Size and shape the reality to our escapes.
Upon planes and dimensions that we have not yet been.
And all this can be done with a simple pen.
So tell me now do you blame them?
Do you blame me for my lack of originality?
I have more of the same.
Different names, but the meaning as common as the books I read.
As common as the words I been fed.
As common a colors I can not see.
Being color blind is the truth you see.
Alot of grays and very few blues purple browns or greens.
When I look to the sky I dream of what I should see.
A wish that is invisible ink.
That one can easily read.
So tell me of these trite conditions what is it you think should be seen?
A improvement in timely manner?
And how would define timely with IQ's varying?
Is their a magic formula that creates that majestic castle?
Do you think one should stop if you are not entertained?
Maybe I am insane, but I will not pass judgments of circumstance not known.
And thus I will not say either this is or isn't something I condone.
At end of the day if a prize is won, it is something I don't care to own.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Anything in between
I can’t become anything even if I want to
I can’t attempt simply and pass though
It has certain norm and has to be met
Goal and priority should be decided and has to be set
Nothing materializes all of sudden
If you are sure of it then only it is done
You may get the success or fail
All your efforts may help you to sail
I know how to excel as good poet
I have revolutionary ideas but have to keep quiet
I may have strong will power to change the world order
It may some time result into disorder
How do the ideas enter into empty memory?
How do they develop into in to fine poetry?
Words after words may occupy different position
It may result then into fine composition
Can this lead into conflicting views?
Does the poet get its proper dues?
Can this land him into disarray/
Can this also take readers in to his way?
It is difficult to judge and visualize
Nobody can prejudge and lateralize
It may touch the inner core of the heart
It may land into garbage before entering mart
I have no time to think about all this things
It has to be an honest attempt at something
It may not find place today then possibly tomorrow
Some time has to be given to express the sorrow
It may have premature demise
No one can guarantee or promise
At every step it must be revised
Some new ideas to be set in and formula devised
The poets are small vanes of the society
It must pick correct mood and offer in variety
There s no use to present the which is obsolete
It has to be unique an din it self complete
The poets are not emerging in a day or two
They are subjected to litmus test and have to pass through
Not possible that it may find all the time good favor
The quality and product both must have flavor and fervor
If your ideas resonate with rhythm and synchronize
If it can meet the challenge and people too sympathize
It is certainly possible to have all glory and fame
Otherwise one common thing to share is blame
Nothing goes out of tune in the mind
You must have suitable words ready to find
I must altogether touch the reader’s ideology
There has to be common approach without any bogey
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXV: Common Thing
It’s not a kindness of heart
It’s not strong solidarity
It’s just a common thing
It’s not local wisdom
It’s not old tradition
It’s just a common thing
It’s not call of duty
It’s not sense of right
It’s just a common thing
It’s not formal greeting
It’s not automatic response
It’s just a common thing
It’s not a matter of guessing
It’s not a part of instinct
It’s just a common thing
It’s not natural reaction
It’s not act of compassion
It’s just a common thing
It’s not regular news
It’s not lack of awareness
It’s just a common thing
It’s not general knowledge
It’s not piece of memory
It’s just a common thing
It’s not statistic range
It’s not operational standard
It’s just a common thing
It’s not moral excuses
It’s not people ignorance
It’s just a common thing
It’s not public secret
It’s not rhetoric question
It’s just a common thing
It’s not different mindset
It’s not basic solution
It’s just a common thing
It’s not absolute law
It’s not blind obedience
It’s just a common thing
It’s not sweet revenge
It’s not getting even
It’s just a common thing
It’s not constant worry
It’s not planted fear
It’s just a common thing
It’s not usual bickering
It’s not daily fight
It’s just a common thing
It’s not die hard habit
It’s not strange behavior
It’s just a common thing
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Truth Through Repetition
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Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
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poem by David Keig
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Seeking To Uncover Hidden Meanings
If more people read words actually written,
Less time would be spent by them...
Seeking to uncover hidden meanings,
Or trying to find a way to define the mind...
Of the writer.
Or...
Make attempts to read between the lines,
When there is a lack of comprehension...
Of the lines already there that appear.
But like most folks,
Who obtain their knowledge from gossip...
A title to them given speaks,
More than their reading of words.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Joy In Repetition
{crowd noise same as for alphabet street}
He like to frequent this club down up on 36th
Pimps and thangs like 2 hang outside and cuss for kicks
Talking 2 no one in particular, they say the baddest I am tonight
4 letter words are seldom heard with such dignity and bite.
All the poets and the part time singers always hang inside
Live music from a band plays a song called soul psychodelicide.
The songs a year long and had been playing 4 months when he
Walked into the place.
No one seemed to care, an introverted this-is-it look on most of their faces.
Up on the mic repeating 2 words, over and over again
Was this woman he had never noticed before he lost himself in the
Articulated manner in which she said them.
These 2 words, a little bit behind the beat.
I mean just enough 2 turn u on.
4 everytime she said the words another one of his doubts were gone.
Should he try 2 rap with her? should he stand and stare?
No one else was watching her, she didnt seem 2 care.
So over and over, she said the words til he could take no more, (no more)
He dragged her from the stage and together they ran through the back door
In the alley over by the curb he said tell me whats your name
She only said the words again and it started to rain (rain, rain, rain)
2 words falling between the drops and the moans of his condition
Holding someone is truly believing theres joy in repetition.
Theres joy in repetition.
Theres joy in repetition.
Theres joy in repetition.
Theres joy in repetition.
She said love me, love me, what she say?
She say love me, love me.
Joy, why dont u love me baby, joy, why cant u love me baby
Joy, come on and love me baby, joy in repetition
Alright, joy in repetition,
Alright, joy in repetition,
Alright, joy in repetition,
Alright, joy, all my wishes add up to one
Love me, joy, love me, joy, love me, joy
Love me, love me, joy, joy, joy in repetition
Joy, joy in repetition,
Joy, joy (love me) in repetition,
Love me, love, joy, joy, joy in repetition
Joy, and Im gonna say it again, joy, joy, and Im gonna say it again,
Joy, Id like 2 go way up high and say, love me, joy
Ill say love me, joy
Joy, joy in repetition, joy in repetition
Theres joy in repetition
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Read My Lips
verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.
these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.
these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.
these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.
read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.
they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.
never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about
the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.
infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.
deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The poor and the affluent are not communicating because they do not have the same words. When we talk of the millions who are culturally deprived, we refer not to those who do not have access to good libraries and bookstores, or to museums and centers for the performing arts, but those deprived of the words with which everything else is built, the words that opens doors. Children without words are licked before they start. The legion of the young wordless in urban and rural slums, eight to ten years old, do not know the meaning of hundreds of words which most middle-class people assume to be familiar to much younger children. Most of them have never seen their parents read a book or a magazine, or heard words used in other than rudimentary ways related to physical needs and functions. Thus is cultural fallout caused, the vicious circle of ignorance and poverty reinforced and perpetuated. Children deprived of words become school dropouts; dropouts deprived of hope behave delinquently. Amateur censors blame delinquency on reading immoral books and magazines, when in fact, the inability to read anything is the basic trouble.
quote by Peter S. Jennison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beyond the formative effects of reading on the individuals composing society, the fact that they have read the same books gives them experiences and ideas in common. These constitute a kind of shorthand of ideas which helps make communication quicker and more efficient. That is what we mean when we say figuratively of another person, We speak the same language.
quote by Charles Scribner, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Poem Is A Forgettable Poem
MY POEM IS A FORGETTABLE POEM
My poem is a forgettable poem-
Trite rhymes-
Awkward syntax-
Common common thoughts-
Little words everyone knows-
Without real Metaphor-
Boring.
My poem is a forgettable poem-
And I write it with all my heart-
Hoping
You will love it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Like That You Stay
i like that you stay,
for a moment inside my room.
i will ask you, those little things
that you can do for me, so you will stay for a while
so i may have a smell of you
so i may see you even for a few seconds
so i may have life.
i ask you to pull the calendar page. It is not
october anymore. Time flies.
you display me the face of november. a sad one.
a face of uncompromising stance. Not not you. Not your love.
you may refuse my feelings, like the way you resist
some sweeter spaces between us. i like you.
i like you to stay even for a moment.
you flatten a crumpled piece of paper and you ask:
there is still something important on this page.
i look at it. some words, not supposedly written
some words, not to be read by anybody.
you read it. how can you understand?
when i always conceal the meaning
of my pain. i am only for me. I understand the rules
of this game.
i like you to stay really. i like you.
but then, i open the door and then you leave.
you have never understood, the silent beats
of my dying heart.
i like it this way. i touch myself still wanting to touch you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Point
Words too many, creates an inflation-like balloon; sphere grown too large
where each word gets lost in the volume of words gone awry, orphaned,
where syllabicity becomes too complicatedly and comprehension
escapes the brain and flees into the night of obscurity and sadly
interest waxes and wanes and only pieces of the meaning
remain, distended and jumbled up and in surrealities
which makes one doubt whether the poem makes
sense of not, or if it is I, the reader lacking
the wit or common sense to see what
the writer meant or if there is a code
to all of this that I, the reader just
does not get, and, perhaps a
second read will clarify all
this and the light will
flood in and then
I, reader, will
and poet
reveal
the
point.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Common Ground
Written by neil diamond, tom hensley, and alan lindgren
If you love me,
Say you love me.
These are words we find hard to share.
Would you trust me?
Could I trust you?
Will you always want me there?
Or is this just some game called nothin goes right?
Is this just me to blame
For making these endless nights?
And who do we think we are,
Some kind of cosmic shooting stars?
No were not.
Havent got all that time.
Got to find a common ground,
Not the other way around
For you and i.
We need to walk on common ground.
We need to make a lovin sound.
While we got time,
We got to try.
Were you loving?
Was I caring?
These are feelings too hard to measure.
Ill be loving.
You be caring.
Will it always feel this way?
Or will we find the way to make it alright?
Will that sun come someday
To wake up this endless night?
And who do we think we are,
Some kind of cosmic shooting stars?
No, were not.
Havent got all that time.
Looking for a common ground,
Not the other way around
For you and i.
Got to find a common ground.
Need to make a lovin sound
While we got time,
You and i.
And we still have the time to make it work right,
Make that sun come to shine
And wake up this endless night.
And who do we think we are,
Some kind of cosmic shooting stars?
No were not.
Havent got all that time.
Got to find a common ground,
Not the other way around,
You and i.
Got to walk on common ground.
Got to make some lovin sounds.
We got time to look for some common ground,
Find a lovin sound,
You and i.
Lookin for a common ground,
Not the other way around
For you and i.
Got to walk on common ground,
You and i.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words, Words, Words
We seem to define words so as to use them,
Conquering the speech of another person;
Just to be a speaker is even better for a person
Than to read or write and practise scholarship.
We meet words carefully chosen by them and combine
To form sentences that will be recognised,
Thus the attached meaning is passed on;
Prosperity is the objective, success is marvellous.
Scholars are thinking men, relaxed by books,
They do not only speak, but look at the messages
From the written word, learning godly works,
Escaping blunders, escaping our mockery.
We are with fine words, words capture us,
Your vocabulary depends on your cleverness and intelligence,
So concoct the perfect sentences,
Invent the same language that we speak.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Value Of It All
When does the teaching process end?
And the learning of lessons begin...
Starting the arrival of experience?
And not far behind is a common sense,
Waiting to be triggered without a nudge?
It is there connecting all of this,
Without a budge!
Ready when needed.
However...
If a mind relies too much on books,
To lead to a life reflecting what is written...
As common as it may seem,
A sense expected is missing.
And if a mind begins to lose sight
Of experience, lessons taught
AND common sense...
There will be problems.
Big time ego ones!
Who pays?
And at what cost?
Especially...
If the value of it all is lost!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I'm wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don't travel in circles where people say, "I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith." That's just a long-winded religious way to say, "shut up," or another two words that the FCC likes less.
quote by Penn Jillette
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Truth That Sets You Free
Words expressed to you and me, that the truth will set you free,
Not simply truth of any kind, but, Truth which leaves sin behind,
The Truth spoken of is Him; The One Who saves many from sin,
The Truth available to all of us, is the Lord Himself, Christ Jesus.
Friend in the Bible you shall find, God's Truth of an Eternal kind,
Truth that is beyond the world, Truth which Jesus Christ unfurled,
A Truth that's meant for everyone, coming from God's Only Son,
His Truth, which sets men free, from the present through eternity.
Common truths known on earth, for man, are of no eternal worth,
All common truths known to man, access not God's eternal plan,
They are better than lies for us, but, have not His Righteousness,
Common truth won't get us to, Eternity, prepared for me and you.
The only Saving truth, in this life, is Truth, in the person of Christ,
God's saving Truth all men need, His Gospel Truth all must heed;
Common truth will not set you free, or give you new life eternally,
For man's word shall fade away, but, God's Truth is here to stay.
The Saving Truth, you have heard, is there for all in God's Word,
The Way, the Truth and the Life, is the Living Word, Jesus Christ,
Whose Word comes from eternity, Truth, that saves you and me,
Reading His Word reveals proof, He's the author of Eternal Truth.
And What About Us Who Write Poems Every Minute Of The Day?
what words can we take pride in
these poems like our daily breaths
ordinary words we utter in ordinary
conversations we have
come breakfast come snack time
come lunch come dinner
the talks we have on the park
in the marketplaces of our ordinary days
unplanned, unscreened, unedited
ordinary words to ordinary occasions
an embarrassment, can these words be?
unscheming and devoid of meaning
the lines of the common places?
the dialogues of the fool and the unwise?
you do not have to mind
this is my journal, a record of nothing
but ramblings of my mind and there you are
carefully reading putting meaning where there was
really none
this poem of day to day, unwavering
trying to be but nothing, a mode of nothing but just
plain thinking
do you too have this kind of breathing?
tell me why you breathe, then?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Repetition
You get up in the morning
And every single day
Is just a repetition
Its always been that way
You live alone inside your head
Incommunicado, in the land of living dead
Each days a repetition
Of the one that went before
Like watching an old movie
You cant sit through anymore
Why dont you kick the habit
And walk right out that door?
From all the repetition
Day after day
All the repetition
Its always been that way
Its in your head, its in your eyes
Youre boring and its no surprise
With all the repetition
Day after day
All the repetition
They say its time to start all over
And call it a day
But you go right back where you started
Day after day
You go right back to where you started
Day after day, after day, after day, after day
You look in the mirror
Is anybody there?
Its only a reflection
That doesnt really care
Youre a product of your time
Looking hard for something, but you never saw the sign
Lock inside a prison
But thats where you wanna be
Stuck in solitary
And youve thrown away the key
You say you want your freedom
But you dont wanna get away
Then you wake up, its time for you
To start another day
With all the repetition, day after day, all the repetition
All the repetition day after day
Another chance, another day
You know its time to get away from all the repetition
Day after day
How long you gonna sit and wait
Youre getting on its getting late
They say its time to start all over
And call it a day
But you go right back where you started
Day after day
You go right back to where you started
Day after day, after day, after day, after day
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Life Poem) Above The Wind Fall
Crazy as life is, I still take a sip.
Slowly swallow it down.
Every taste, every embrace.
Love is dire, the most important above all else.
The heart swells, but some strange emptiness still dwells.
Maybe its the loss of some family while others want to give it all.
I shall not falter, living so close to the edge
but still nothing has changed.
The power of devotion and pure emotion.
Creates a reflection of beauty.
Stand tall, stand above the windfall.
Doubt creates nothing
but a clout of misjudgements of dangerous proportion.
Extravagant words dress up truths in a disguise.
I have for so long been looking through a phantoms eye.
Now I realize what was missing.
Now I know what it truly feels like to be alive.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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For Friendships To Be Formed
They have so much in common they love to talk football
And big names of their favourite sport they do love to recall
Though not everyone in their drinking group barracks for the same club
Football the main topic of conversation when they meet in the pub,
Birds of a feather flock together as some do like to say
And that too applies to people or so 'twould seem that way
The one interested in art does not have one who loves sports as a friend
They would find each other boring why otherwise pretend,
For friendships to be formed there must be common ground
Amongst a group of football fans a tennis fan won't be found
'Tis out of common interests that the seeds of mateship are sown
Perhaps 'tis from there the saying was born that he or she is one of our own
If we all had the same hobby how boring we would be
Our different ways makes us more interesting or so 'twould seem to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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