I Want to Be Where the Palm Trees Are
I want to be where the palm trees are,
Upon some sunny and sandy beach,
I want to be away from it all-
Out of touch and out of reach.
I want to lose myself in the sea
Or rest upon some moss covered rocks,
To roam about-wild and free-
Away from the crowds, schedules and clocks.
I want a blank canvas to paint anew,
I want a blank page and a childlike mind
To sit on a hilltop with a scenic view,
To see the world to which I was blind.
May 30,2008
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Blank
Blank pages, blank lines
Blank heart, blank mind
Blank feeling, blank soul
Blank high, blank low.
I dont know why
You just cant see
That all you've ever known
Is the blank side of me.
Tabula Rasa
this is a blank wall
or as you wish it, this could be a blank page,
or you may consider this
a blank mind of a child and
you will be teaching him
some things for the first time,
go, scroll, and find something,
do you remember now, why the child is still in pain?
why the walls are stronger? why the blank page still have stains
of blood in there?
some sad memories that refuse to leave?
don't lose hope, there are still more blank spaces of the mind
imagine it to be some kind of a sky
now, put the stars and the moon, and try wishing
someth ing nice and beautiful
like a boat filled with flowers and some light and then silently it sails
on a very peaceful sea like a fine silky cloth covering the dining table
to the place that you always dream to live
forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blank Page
Blank page leave me be!
Blank page please stop taunting me,
reminding me of what I have failed to do.
Oh how I long to fill you,
to take up your very last line
with creative, riveting lyrics of mine.
Blank page stop harassing me!
I wish to show you my thoughts,
desires, emotions and all.
How difficult it is to answer your call.
Blank page how sweetly you whisper
tempting my pen to caress your paper.
I immaturely expect the verses to flow
then I realize that my thoughts are much too slow.
Blank page so often you defeat me
teasing and challenging until hours later
all that is left is the tiny dot
where my pen merely touched your paper.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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Blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I could thank
I wish I was blank
I'd write a letter to you
And there'd be nothing to it
I wouldn't hem and haw
On just how to start it
I wish I was blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I could thank
I wish I was blank
I wish I'd stand up straight
I wish I'd said things different
I wish I'd said nothing
Things would be so perfect
I wish myself to keep
I pray my soul to sleep
I wish myself away
I wish I was blank
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from The Aeroplane Flies High
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blank Pages
Blank pages
Blank books
Lie with only drowning white
No pretty messages in the sand
No clocks to turn a hand
Blank pages
Blank books
Looking into an empty void
Like staring at purgatory
Words with no meaning making up a story
Blank pages
Blank books
Stay staring at the celing
Empty without effort
Nothing without words
poem by Autumn Winds
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The unwritten is also there
a blank paper
limitless as space
to fill the knowledge
here and beyond
and words of God
here, the learned plot
the stars, moon and universe
day and night
to the untutored
the blank paper might
as well be carrying space
limitless, enthralling
yet not fathomable
reachable
the blank page
catches the
essence of the mind
the written is there
the unwritten also there
if you could read
between the lines
if you could sense
the universal mind
the waves at sea
afford only a little view
of the power of the wind
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ode to a Blank Page
Ode to a blank page
It’s blue seemingly thin lines flying across the page
Each producing a small space to place your thoughts on
Next lies the taunting red margin
Baring how sparsely you’ve done
You can strike the page with a single blow
Leaving a mark that did no good
Ode to a blank page
Why do you stare?
Taunting and shrieking in my ear
Emptiness fills the page
The blanks intimidate even the strong
How strong it is
To give a cut even to the toughest skin
Ode to a blank page
You know I’m jealous
How I despise all your characteristics
poem by Rachele ...duhh
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A Blank Page Blues
I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.
10 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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It's one of his radical paintings
They refused to take his painting for the Exhibition.
The reason they explained; ' It's a blank canvas.'
Then the painter argued; ' It's titled as Blank life.'
'At least there should be a brush mark then we can accept.' the director of the Art Gallery said.
With his ball point pen he kept a dot in the middle of the canvas
And added to the title as 'Full stop to the blank life.'
The director was really appreciated and taken the painting back.
* To my friend Denis.Joe who threw a torch into my little dark World and I saw this strange sign shines in the darkness.
'If the door is locked, someone is inside? '
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The canvas
The canvas
~
This blank canvas before me
Laid out in pristine white
Where only the illusion of lines
Break the unparalleled possibility
Dare I take my pen to it
To scare forever its page
To pen the impossible thought
In verse and breath captivated
That only the mention of a word
Touches the heart and soul of man
Painted into eternity
Upon the canvas stained
No longer innocent, pristine
But touched by the mind
Whose eyes looked upon
A world as they chose to see it
poem by Matthew Holloway
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An untold Story of a Pebble
Blissfully, at sunrise, walking
On the white sandy river beach,
I folded my denim jeans,
And bent down to reach
Out for some pebbles
Resplendent in the Sun’s rays,
Below a moss covered rock
In the palest of hues,
Childlike, picture of
Innocence…
Please, I beseech
Let me rest a while,
Am tired of an arduous
Journey…
Did I hear
A silent plea
Or my mind as usual
Was in overdrive…
Tremulously, I put it back
With reverence…
Hey, it called back,
Come again
This is my temporary habitat,
I want to share the story
Of my adventure
And how I ended here.
Although my colour, shape
And size gives away,
It entreated
Like a child
Waiting for a gleam
Of excitement in my eyes
To my surprise
I said out aloud, you bet
I can’t wait,
I shall return at sunset.
But when I went back
Before my eyes
A big, gushing wave
Carried it away…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Canvas Blank
The canvas blank confronts me
Screaming set me free of agony
Paint me – Taint me
Allow me my story to tell
Be it of heaven or be it hell?
Who shall know until they listen?
poem by David Lacey
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A Blank Canvas
A blank canvas waits every morning
as the sun begins to rise.
It waits for me to start thinking
of what today will be my prize.
Whatever it may be, I know
a new destination will come aboard
and my creations will be my guides to follow
to new adventures I will afford,
seeking and finding the colours and words
to fill in the emptiness of my blank canvas.
poem by David Harris
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When I write, the first blank page, or any blank page, means nothing to me. What means something is a page that has been filled with words.
quote by Guillermo Cabrera Infante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where's My Inspiration?
I can not think.
My mind is at a gridlock.
Where’s my inspiration?
Boredom is highly overwhelming,
But then I think,
“A poem about boredom! ”
Stupid, huh?
But still,
I-can-not- think.
Where’s my inspiration?
I lie on my bed,
Mind empty.
I stare at the ceiling,
At the blank white wall.
Then I stare at my paper,
A blank white canvas.
But then I look closer
It isn’t blank.
It’s filled with lines,
And not just any lines,
BLUE lines.
They aren’t even solid either.
With closer inspection,
They are dotted.
Some even have breaks in them.
Well,
Look at that.
I’ve found my inspiration.
“What is it? ” You may think.
To tell the truth it’s nothing special.
My inspiration came from everywhere around me.
My closed mind soon opened up and spoke to my hand.
It’s funny how the mind works,
Don’t you agree?
poem by Devon McElveen
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Blank Page
Blank Page
This new blank page, a word processor page, I cannot touch. I ought to leave it this
way, just look at it and dream of what I could have written on it. If I delet the words
I have written now, it will be blank again, no history, no crumbled up sheet of paper
in the wastebasket. For now it is too late but I might erase it when I come to an end.
My wife was in Johannesburg once for surgery, being born in Congo but light skinned
and travelling on a Portuguese passport, she boarded a bus for the blacks.
Great consternation, she was told by police to go on the white only bus since she
was Portuguese. Racism and anti Semitism are so stupid, it makes no sense, one race
thinks it is superior to others. Now it is the Moslems who are feeling the surge
of ignorance. We want them to be more like us and not Insist of doing their own things.
In Israel, for instance the European Jews feel vastly superior to Arab Jews, This in a state
that is an artificial construct. The culture of Europe in the Middle East. We know Israel,
as it exist today must come to an end. So there I said it, this white virtual sheet has been
befouled by an opinion no one wants to know about. So what do I do know? Erase this
page so it is blank again and I can write about the moon?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Facing a Blank: Part 1
I sit here facing a blank
and it is perhaps one of the hardest things I do
to see before me an expanse of blank things
to decide how I should fill them in
there is everything to encompass
for all the world to see, itself looking back
a mirror wouldn't do,
because the truth merely hides behind mirrors
it does not look out through them.
every random thought that I notice out of the corner of my eye
has its own appeal and appeals to me
to use it to fill the blank spaces.
To every random thought I look and in them I see the world
every one of them looking out at me and crying
for recognition and redemption
and the blank spaces agree that this is not what I should put down.
So I sit here still, facing a blank.
poem by Poet Dragon
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Blank Page
Blank page was all the rage
Never meant to say anything
In bed I was half-dead
Tired of dreaming of rest
Got dressed above the state line
Looking for you at the five and dime
Stop sign told me to stay at home
Told me you were not alone
Blank page was all the rage
Never meant to hurt anyone
In bed I was half-dead
Tired of dreaming of rest
You haven't changed
You're still the same
May you rise as you fall
You were easy
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from Adore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half Full
I'll write these words.
I'll write more tomorrow.
Will they be read by anyone,
does it matter either way?
I am reading them,
and that goes to prove that they've been written,
that my mind is not blank.
I have sympathy for the blank-minded people.
Although I'm sure,
they would sympathize with me...
if only their minds were not blank,
And they weren't just content to be.
poem by Edward Veilleux
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The Blank Space Inside Us
there are blank pages
some say that it is a must that something must be drawn
words to be written
thoughts to stifle, capture,
stuffed,
there is a day that you prefer
to keep a blank sky
a dark sky without stars
no light
when you close your eyes
you are at home with this blank page
words become
invincible
but they are all there
perfectly correct
well viewed by the eyes of your heart
somehow you go beyond
your every
day fences
move away, jump and run towards
an island of light
a patch of green grass
still no stars
pure blank
it is when you do not believe in the power of thoughts
when what preoccupies you
is nothing when you are finally one with all
space
it is too peaceful to even dropp a word
like a pin on
a shiny floor of tiles....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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