An Epithet
“Admirable beacon of rectitude”
A great sounding epithet said of me
You think? That depends on whose point of view.
It’s like the fruit of a poisonous tree.
It looks harmless, nonetheless toxic.
It can be said for the appellation-
Sounds great yet often a vitriolic
Mean-spirited, misinterpretation.
The interpretation, self-righteousness
In the meanest, cruelest sense of the word.
I live a moral code nevertheless
In spite of the consensus of the herd.
If I’m a single lighthouse on the coast,
Expect from me examples from this post.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Different Point Of View
(tennant/lowe)
----------------------------
When Im sitting so close to you
Theres only one thing that I wanna do
But I know what youre likely to say
That Im going about it the wrong way
We cant agree about anything
Where to go or even where weve been
And I know what youre likely to do
Say that Ive never cared about you
And all I wanted to say was that I love you
But you tell me now you dont believe its true
You got a different, a different
A different point of view
You got a different
Point of view
You dont believe a single word I say
If Id say black was white, youd say it was grey
But in spite of being treated this way
I still dream of you all night and day
And all I wanted to say was that I love you
But you tell me now you dont believe its true
You got a different, a different
A different point of view
You got a different
Point of view
Just this once
Just say yes
Please
Youve got a clever way of haunting me
Im never scared, but youre still daunting me
cause I know what youre likely to say
And I know that youll get your own way
And all I wanted to say was that I love you
But you tell me now you dont believe its true
You got a different, a different
A different point of view
You got a different
Point of view
You got a different, a different
A different point of view
You got a different
Point of view
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tree's Fruit
Good fruit or bad fruit, a tree can only bear one,
This parable was taught by God's one and only Son.
First mentioned by John as a warning for the Pharisees to heed,
But being blind to The Truth, most of them would not believe.
Your life is the tree and your deeds are the fruit,
This is a simple analogy that it hard to dispute.
But the Pharisees who knew the Word and lived in the land,
Were rebuked by John the Baptist, as they didn't understand.
Christians need to produce fruit for the Lord and nothing less,
And all the fruit that we produce should be fruits of righteousness.
Our old nature will produce fruit that comes from the past,
Not only is this fruit bad, but it's the kind that won't last.
Not only is bearing good fruit The Lord's heart desire,
But trees that continue to bear bad fruit may be cast in the fire.
Within your own heart is where the good or bad fruit is stored,
And by your fruits men will know you, is made clear by The Lord.
The fruit of righteousness is a tree of life, was once said,
However, a tree that bears bad fruit may be eternally dead.
What fruit you produce is strictly your choice my dear friend,
And by this choice you will either be blessed or condemned.
( 03/2002)
Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
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For Those Who Grieve
no one
no one can really stop you
from eating the bark of the tree
the thick skin of the
fruit
no one can tell you what should have
been proper
or better
you like the skin and you throw away
the fruit that could have
satisfied your
thirst and hunger
the bark has poisoned you
the moon has warned you too well
the worm is wriggling
its frail and elongated
body
you have no ears
your sense of smell so badly damaged
and now you
are dying
no one tells you that life is as sweet
as the ripe fruit of the tree
that luscious flesh that flowing
juice
your gaze is sharp as a knife
stabbing even the
sun
and you are always right
what you have been searching
that can satisfy your hunger and thirst
is not found on the fruit
not even in the tree
it is in the poisonous bark
that useless skin
that silly coat
definitely it is not even here
where we are all grieving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Awareness Notes... (Part Two)
it's not the bullet that killed
the man... bullets by themselves
are harmless. it is the intent
of the man that loads the gun,
that points the barrel, and pulls
the trigger.
it is also the inactions of the
people who knew his anger, and of
the system that allowed him the gun.
the apathy of those who didnt get
involved, and the moral code that
fed his anger
but taking the gun away doesnt solve
the problem. an angry man will pick up
a stick, or a knife, or even rocks,
to act out his anger.
to disarm the angry you have to remove
their anger, and that begins with getting
to the cause. the cause must be met, and
dealt with.
you must repace the 'moral code' of retribution
with the code of compassionate forgiveness.
human justice begins and ends in the heart.
you have to get involved!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Daring To Be Self Righteous
Wouldn't it be great,
If our moods and values...
Had standards that were consistent?
And we weren't judging the depth taken,
Of someone's moral fiber dipped in decadence.
From a point of view that criticizes,
While we live our own hypocritical lives...
Daring to be self righteous,
As we all continue to patronize the height of sleaze.
And doing our best to climb that ladder with ease.
With a feeling to be entitled.
Wouldn't it be great,
If our moods and values...
Had standards that were consistent?
Although when publicized publicly...
There is a need instantly to defend a discipline,
That does not exist.
And when someone admits to us what we can kiss,
Immediately we become appalled.
With a wish to censor the innocence of 'children'...
Who are directly marketed to be as filthy as possible,
With the consent of all claiming to be 'trendy' and progressive.
Wouldn't it be great,
If our moods and values...
Had standards that were consistent?
And there was a benefit to our pretentions,
That were not so obviously seen cracking at the seams.
And our motives were not so obviously confused,
With a making of sense that today is nonexistent.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Learning by Doing
They're taking down a tree at the front door,
The power saw is snarling at some nerves,
Whining at others. Now and then it grunts,
And sawdust falls like snow or a drift of seeds.
Rotten, they tell us, at the fork, and one
Big wind would bring it down. So what they do
They do, as usual, to do us good.
Whatever cannot carry its own weight
Has got to go, and so on; you expect
To hear them talking next about survival
And the values of a free society.
For in the explanations people give
On these occasions there is generally some
Mean-spirited moral point, and everyone
Privately wonders if his neighbors plan
To saw him up before he falls on them.
Maybe a hundred years in sun and shower
Dismantled in a morning and let down
Out of itself a finger at a time
And then an arm, and so down to the trunk,
Until there's nothing left to hold on to
Or snub the splintery holding rope around,
And where those big green divagations were
So loftily with shadows interleaved
The absent-minded blue rains in on us.
Now that they've got it sectioned on the ground
It looks as though somebody made a plain
Error in diagnosis, for the wood
Looks sweet and sound throughout. You couldn't know,
Of course, until you took it down. That's what
Experts are for, and these experts stand round
The giant pieces of tree as though expecting
An instruction booklet from the factory
Before they try to put it back together.
Anyhow, there it isn't, on the ground.
Next come the tractor and the crowbar crew
To extirpate what's left and fill the grave.
Maybe tomorrow grass seed will be sown.
There's some mean-spirited moral point in that
As well: you learn to bury your mistakes,
Though for a while at dusk the darkening air
Will be with many shadows interleaved,
And pierced with a bewilderment of birds.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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My family(concept of art)
My family my tree
Deep rooted in my heritage
My family my tree
Who I'm the fruit of her
My family fair sky
Where my sun always shine
My family there are my roots
Where I got MIne and me
My family is my word
My family is my blood
My family is my fine touch
My family
is big heart
Who love with no hurt
My family is my love
for that love I love
And I hate
What I hate so
My family is my moral code
MY culture
And my bank acount
Never been out of cash
My family is my fortess
And my fortune
My family is not
fall out of fishion
My family face
is always fancy
My family is what
You never know
me with out
MY color
My conscious
And my concept of art
poem by Sallam Yassin
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Process of 'Misspeaking
Does the process of 'misspeaking'
Also include one's deliberate deceit.
To later excuse as misunderstood speech.
To then deny what has been videotaped...
As words heard but said by mistake.
And the person who expresses this,
Is one who holds a position...
That monitors the laws.
And brings those who breaks them,
To a 'legalized' and law abiding truthfulness...
That respects and honors justice.
However...
Given an interpretation that represents,
A point of view to dismiss honesty...
And the ability to know truth too!
Depends on one's position.
And people who have never known,
Truth to be what it is without deception.
'Some folks are just part of the fabric.
No matter what their flaws.
Or embarrassments that dropp jaws.
Or no matter who is used,
To promote and benefit themselves...
From their point of view.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Don't Forget who is your Father
God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..
Thank you Help me pliz.
poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
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Let's be clear: the work of science has nothing whatever to do with consensus which is the business of politics. What is relevant is reproducible results. The greatest scientists in history are great precisely because they broke with the consensus.
quote by Timothy R. Minnich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Philosophical Argument
Man has a brain which comprehends
the idea of infinity.
Although his point of view depends
on which school of philosophy
has taught him to think logically.
Investigating every clue
relevant to this mystery.
Exactly as he was taught to.
Although in his experience.
that which begins must also end.
It seems to counter common sense
and he is prepared to defend,
his point of view vehemently.
To other scholars endlessly.
High lighting the futility
of studying infinity.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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There is no essential difference between the material of comedy and tragedy. All depends on the point of view of the dramatist, which, by clever emphasis, he tries to make the point of view of his audience.
quote by George P. Baker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Oak Tree
There grew a little flower
'Neath a great oak tree:
When the tempest 'gan to lower
Little heeded she:
No need had she to cower,
For she dreaded not its power -
She was happy in the bower
Of her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
When she found that he was fickle,
Was that great oak tree,
She was in a pretty pickle,
As she well might be -
But his gallantries were mickle,
For Death followed with his sickle,
And her tears began to trickle
For her great oak tree!
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
Said she, "He loved me never,
Did that great oak tree,
But I'm neither rich nor clever,
And so why should he?
But though fate our fortunes sever,
To be constant I'll endeavour,
Ay, for ever and for ever,
To my great oak tree!"
Sing hey,
Lackaday!
Let the tears fall free
For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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I like to think that I have no single view nor any single situation that I think things arrive from. I try to give examples of what I think are interesting questions for me.
quote by Robert Sheckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whip
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fortune hunter
your uninterrupted lamp
has
torch light out the
parasite in their closet
like an erosion that called
the black pot of sacrifice of the perpetrator
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fervent farmer
your crude instrument
has
uprooted the unwanted ornament
in the vineyard
like locus waiting the planter
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The lean steward
you never sleep nor slumber
in the quest of monitoring the
offender in the field like Nigeria
EFCC punching out the beautiful criminals
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The no nonsense headmaster
with this
masquerade Cain whipping
the deaf prefect in the school of moral
The whip that caution the senior wife
is at the top of the roof for
YOU
poem by Samuel Abimbola Aladetan
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Post-Modern Poetry
The post-modern poem is the poet's surprise-
It has no agenda but its own interpretation-
It reads the ‘expressive I' as an infinite longing of the soul
To know and be known-
It writes out of many different places
But finds it difficult to call one its home-
It has many names and voices
But none speaks with an authoritative rhythm -
It is only its own alone home
And so I writing it know
It will not be found in me by those who write it as their own-
Chaos, perhaps, is its signature,
And loss of all the ancient rhythms and forms-
It wants to wander where it will as it does -
But I, I thinking back to what we were
And remembering years of reading others
Know too its voices are many even within the single self-
There is no ‘modern' anymore and no ‘post- modern' either
In the age where everything is accessible
And all is easily found and communicated
The single soul's signature cannot mean a name is real -
Only where all effort is and fails
Only where nobody really is
Only where many write and no one can really read
Perhaps beyond this
Beyond post- modern poetry
This poem too will teach Poetry how to live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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At This Great Distance
Memory
Ancient light from a binary star
Bends across a receeding tide
A single point of light st this great distance
At this great distance only the eye
Pressed against the telescope of dreams
Sees two stars
Two stars, two white hot lines on a firey white
Spinning madly on lines defined
By each others gravity.
And by the time we see
The light of memory
There is no hope
Theres no hope
Only memory
They danced to songs
Played at the speed of light
Red shifting
Untouchable
At this great distance two stars, two souls
Become one single point of light
Not hot
Not cold
Not you
Not me
Only memory
Chorus
Only memory - at this great distance
(repeat to end
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Benediction
Read this poem only aloud
read it as slowly and with such solemn dignity
as if it were the whole great human race
declaring itself to be truly great
read it as if it were
as indeed it is
not words but a great sounding bell
and you are that great bell
so large a bell so low its boom
that it is more vibration than a sound
struck in a temple courtyard
by a robed monk so full of love
that he merges into love itself
every time he sounds the bell
and as its sound now travels up
into the clear mountain air
the goatherds and the goats hear in its sound
the meaning of their life
and in the fields the workers raise themselves
and know what blessing is
and in the valley the silence after each stroke
becomes more real
as the echo fades
and the air knows itself
this poem is the sound of the human heart
listening to itself beyond all words
hearing praise and gratitude and love
knowing themselves in stillness for what they are
this poem is what is beyond all words
smiling sorrowing as it seeks for words
as it vibrates out into the silence
the wonder of the unspoken
the magic of all that’s yet unmanifest
the thoughts yet to be thought
hear in this bell the sound that tells to all
that there is enough love
in one single human heart
to nourish the whole world
hear this bell sounding aloud
sound out eternal in your soul
* * *
[work in progress]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Who Is Truly Great?
Great is one who humbles oneself;
Great is one who accomplishes without expectations;
Great is one who labors for others’ welfare;
Great is one who struggles for a noble cause;
Great is one who gives his life for his Maker’s sake;
Great is one who sacrifices his precious life for truth’s sake;
Great is one who takes the road least taken;
Great is one who climbs life’s steep hills;
Great is one who treads dangerous paths for mankind’s progress;
Great is one who risks his life unduly to save others’ lives;
Great is one who although born or made handicapped does extra-ordinary feats;
Great is one who scales heights of achievements rarely done by others;
Great is one who toils in sleep-hours too for mankind’s upliftment;
Great is one who racks his brain to find a cure for a crippling disease;
Great is one who shuns selfishness for the cause of his poorer brethren;
Great is one who dies so that others can live in peace;
Great is one who lives not for oneself but others;
Great is one who loves and forgives his worst foe;
Great is one who leads life in accordance with the Word of God!
(4-13-2007)
poem by John Celes
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