The Virgin of the Moon
all of what is given is perfect of what was received
by birth, it was perfected in the womb of our mothers
tears of thanking the Lord
the acceptance of what is life at this moment is a
vivid confirmations that with all our hearts and in
body and spirit is willing to endure of what will be the
end of who we are to come in time
all are a mirror of the things, man's dream of the
past and even at this present moment, it is always
the beginning that makes him not absolutely perfect,
though he believes and thinks that perfection is
God's reward in every action exercise towards the
ultimate
courtship, friendship, marriages, business and even
sacred vows are subject to imperfection, it’s a no
excuse activities of man to survive, for in every dust
it will return to the soil, where we came from, seeing
perfection of the imperfections in every sphere of
human call
the ladders of success are just a venture of our dear
forefather who came ahead from us, a mirror of the
past exegetes today, a deal that all what is given, has
to undergone the pain of dying oneself
as the secret reveals the essence of perseverance
emerge human to pursue, to endure of what is the
next steps to know of what will be the next tomorrow
a determination will come that we may stand likes
virgin of the moon, leaving no tears in the eyes
of the Heaven above
poem by Antonio Liao
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Related quotes
Imperfections, Imperfection
Imperfections
Imperfection
Separating us all from
Perfection
Imperfections
Imperf ection
I'll never be perfect
Neither will you
Imperfections
Imperfection
You can't change everything
About the way you look
Imperfections
Imperfection
You can't change everything
About your personality
Imperfections
Imperfection
But, you can work on those things
Change little things
Instead of worrying about all the things
Imperfections
Imperfection
Never completely gone
It's what makes us human
poem by Autumn Winds
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As the wind color our dream.....
waking is not the beginning of time, it’s the start of a
day; the end has just started another point, to a start, an
end to a new beginning of a wondeful and beautiful
moment of time
open up my eyes and waste no time to close, the day
has just started, and a glow of every memories never
return the passing moment of what was gone now, as it
has wondered each solitudes of time in the midst of
yesterday’s goodbye
such a dream, captured my past, dreaming to the
presence of my heart, pushing me to leave no cause to
surrender my day of what was yesterday’s gone,
happiness brought me to hold, to mirror of what was
the end, an end to scant and resolute the meaning of
you in my life
recollect my soul of the dream that i have to go, beneath
those vine of memories; cable my joy to reunite my joy
to the beginning of another moment to live in this
wonderful days of my existence, humble my dear heart to
rejuvenate the most exciting adventure of my moment
with you in my dream
passion as you takes the ruins of yesterday and brings
my beginning to stand with your wings of what the future
brings, the day of yesterday, is just a beginning of today
and the passing scene is what is to come for another day,
it’s today my dear
come take me to your rest and paint with your golden
brush the beginning of my life, always color as you’ll be
to sweeten the tomorrow's of today................
poem by Antonio Liao
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Sweet Thorn
smile never give laughter
as the sunshine gives not
a strom of distress, for
today is not the past to
capture but a memories
to believe that life hold
the essence of rebirth
from nothing to something
of every beginning
leverage of deception
cause no pain, nor break
what the heart desire, it
need the passion to
surrender of what all a man
have in life
the flesh of life lust the body
to gain perfection, yet wait
the final hour for a perfect
return and move every high
of dungeon reach the moment
to lay down every corner of
lasting memory of joy
sweet as it bleeds, breathe
everlastingly in the kingdom
of the beyond, for each body is
ONE with anybody
poem by Antonio Liao
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Aim at perfection, be satisfied with excellence
Aim at perfection
But be satisfied with excellence
As absolute perfection is
Unattainable
We say in science
Absolute zero is unattainable
Perfection means zero defects
In the product or outcome
And it means zero deviation
In the process and systems employed
While excellence in performance is
Being ahead of most of others
With regard to process and
Quality of the product
And this is achievable
It is well known and established that
Imperfection and randomness
Are the essence of survival
And the nature has all its biodiversity
Because of imperfection and
Deviation from the norms
Insistence on perfection
May lead to failures
And likely win you more foes than friends
You may even leave a scar in the hearts of
Your own people and friends
If you zero in on perfection only
The fact remains
There is no perfected art
There is no perfected process
There is no perfected write
All await your touch
And improvement therefrom
You do not compromise either
As you will be struggling to
Excel all others
Target at the best
Arrive at the best possible
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Perfect Blame
If I write the perfect poem
then my creation
mocks me
because it is perfect
and I know I am not.
The imperfect poem
is better for me
yet perfection
haunts
and I continue to strive
for its outlines
even as I concede
imperfection's continence
is more like me.
It may be I have to concede
that I and all of us are perfect
as we are inside
but once perfection moves outside my skin
the world taints it
with its imperfections
and I have to take the blame.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Images-Perfection Ever Flames, An Endless Supply of Moths
As I am,
I'm perceived Perfection
upon my ivory pedestal
in brilliant light
crystalline.
But these are my prison walls
Uniques Glow
is Perfection's Pall
which exiles me from that outer world
of reality.
I cannot mingle there.
My existence is constrained.
As bright as my Radiant Glow,
upon approach
to your world
I would dim
and be destroyed.
We can talk you and I
in Perfection's Harmony
but the moment you gain
my speaking voice,
my thoughts,
all is taken from Perfection's Shelf
and another less perfect me appears.
Nothing will compare
to me as I was.
Should I
in coming to you
destroy that Perfection which is now so dear?
Conundrum.
Corporeal life
is Kryptonite
yet mental isolation is too numbing.
I am Beauty in the light
but unavailable;
forever Uncoming.
Sometimes
Beauty is torture
we ourselves inflict
to escape our worldly life.
But since its shape
is mental most
it cannot ever be.
Pity the person
whose countenance
is corporeal beauty
realized;
they will have the sterner test
of not living up to hearts image most.
Each prince
whom we have constructed
alas, can only live with us
til that moment first,
the single word;
then the dream slips.
Honeymoons and marriages
might last longer I think
if we did not first wed
our Perfect Prince beforehand.
Is it not truth plain
that love itself is only grown
when 1st Prince Born
is laid to rest
and Prince Now
is allowed to live?
How better ground is it
to love the flower in the garden now
than those ones first grown
in Furrows of Gold
in Dream World
where Perfection's Hoe
was Loves Seeder
and Instigator
of the visions
we now hold
of what ought to be?
How can we in flesh and blood
compete with perfect diamond visions
which never fade or rust?
Whose hand is warmer still
than the Princely hand held in our dreams?
Who is sadder than
those who loved us;
yet whose faces are shadowed
by cold, Perfection's Glow?
How to dream
our destiny
yet still
love those
'round us;
remembering these ones
are the ones who will
when we, in time, tomorrow
are no longer our Own Prince
or Princess Image;
no longer Perfection's Darling.
Rest you better in Human Arms;
while they grow old and leather
they'll not in the end
take your pride and sell it away
to Dream Land Barons
and Rock Star Princes
who all live in Hollywood.
What to do?
abandon Vision
goals and Prince;
leave aside Destiny?
No, we must grapple with
this conundrum sent:
wrapped up
Perfection and Beauty;
living along side
uneasily,
with what is merely Human,
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Bit Of The Light
I'm not perfect i'm a human
Who sometimes feels strong and says i can
While the judging eyes embrace my strength
At my weakness sometimes i feel a pain
I'm not glad to say that i lie
But i confess that's not nice
But i'm not perfect i'm a human..
....
I'm not perfect i'm a human
The perfection no one has ever got
The perfection means the God
It's one of the eternal beauties of my God
But as long as l survive l know that i'll try to do
And i'll give my best sacrifice
May i can be a candle to light other's dark
That makes me feel satisfied
What a lucky is that who can leave footprints when he's gone
The one who can make a change
To make the world a better place for my fellow man
....
What a precious and a lucky is the one who can sacrifice his time for the hospitality of the humanity
Those noble heroes never die
Those who give never die
Eternally their names at the sky bright shines
....
The poverty and the wars are surrounded all the world
May the justice and love of God guides all the humanity to the road of light
May never earthly things enslaved your minds
With the love and forgiveness may you seek freedom and the peaceful delights
No one ever will find the freedom and the peace
While snatching away other's right to survive
That's not fair for the sake of God..
I'm not a perfect one i'm not a beast
I'm just the one who's heart beats
While looking to those crying kids
No one can ban me writing about innocent tears
May I can be a bit of the light among all these darknesses and fears
I'm not a preacher
Not a crown angel with white wings
Just i'm the one who cannot bear to see
The crying doves among the beasts
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Now!
Out of your whole life give but a moment!
All of your life that has gone before,
All to come after it, -- so you ignore,
So you make perfect the present, condense,
In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment,
Thought and feeling and soul and sense,
Merged in a moment which gives me at last
You around me for once, you beneath me, above me --
Me, sure that, despite of time future, time past,
This tick of life-time's one moment you love me!
How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet,
The moment eternal -- just that and no more --
When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core,
While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!
poem by Robert Browning
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Walking Past My Mirror
Walking past my mirror watching my life past by
And all i have to say is why
Sometimes i want to laugh, most of the time i want to cry
I see you looking in my mirror and it makes me want to die
You think the mirror lies but, i know it doesnt
You thought that it was supposed to happen but i know it wasnt
In my mirror theres nothing but the present
But i dont like the present because it is not very pleasent
Its all going to fast and i want it to go slow
And all those bad things i just want them to go
poem by Shateeka Williams
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Yogi post-it to William Carlos Williams
Thanks for leaving one…
I can only say,
that in the passing moment
the cold perfection of that plum
reflected my perfection
reflecting all perfection
and the beauty of that moment
was but my own beauty
which must be, is, the beauty of the One
so I hope the remainder
were as perfect, beautiful
for you
so why not
write a poem about this?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Girl in the Broken Mirror
The girl in the broken mirror
With eyes so full of tears
Will pick up the peices
That he's left behind.
She vows she'll be stronger,
And not fall for another man.
But the girl in the broken mirror,
Just needs to understand.
Love can be so perfect at the time
And then can dwittle away.
But a new love will come around
And whisk you away.
Dear girl in the broken mirror,
With her eyes so full of tears
She needs to know,
She shouldn't give up,
Theres a better man out there
Just waiting for her
Patiantly waiting
To show a love so true.
To the Broken mirror
That needs to go,
And to the tears
That need to dry,
And to the girl
That needs to fly.
poem by Melanie Weeks
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Mirrors…..
Take a look in the mirror and realize what you see..
Is it really you or someone you cannot be..
What you say in the mirror, is what the mirror tells..
Then why your own mirror, reflects some one else..
Every mirror has a story, it does tell a tale..
It reflects joy of success, and your tears when you fail..
The mirror never lies, it reflects what is true..
If you yourself dont know who you are, how can it reflect you..? ?
You may look perfect in the mirror, but take a look inside..
There are things unsaid, untold, now your eyes fail to hide..
Watch right through your soul, make sure it's not haunting..
Never realized who you are, your self-esteem still taunting..? ?
The mirror reflects a question mark, that is it really fair..? ?
You failed to live for others, for yourself only you care..
Look in the reflective gaze of glass, try finding your mistake..
Move close, Gaze into the lie and realize that it's fake...
Ask the mirror to reflect the facts, and to show the truth..
Wrongs you did in your life, right from childhood to youth..
Stop wishing for more, the mirrages will never be true..
It may be close to perfection, but it is just not you..
Make your soul your mirror, one that doesn't lie..
Make it pure and crystal clear, say a prayer up high..
Your heart reflects the person you are, so there's nothing to hide..
No mirror reflects you better then the one inside..
poem by Abhijit Surve
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Perfect Lie/ You Are Loved The Way You Are
Stand in front of the mirror
Either boys or girls, some got depression
Try to find yourself underneath the reflection
Dissect each point, seek for perfection
Dreaming of perfection, adore some corrections
Never know the word of satisfy
Already beautiful but admire to modify
Don't you know who really you are?
You are loved by the way you are
Most of us rather see what appeared outside
always forgot to evaluate what lies inside
Most of us deceived by the open eyesight
always fooled because blinded heart-sight
Perfection makes everyone affected
Perfect one is what you wanted
Perfect lie is what you invented
Perfect word only a word that human created
A real you, that what you have neglected
Dear,
Don't feel down,
if u are blessed as jasmine flower
Why must you envy of that sunflower
I know, it is big, sweet yellow, catchy for eyes to look
But, don't you know sunflower adore the way you look?
Hypnotize fragrance by cute in white, posses its own hook
So unfair to compare the different beauty you both look
Jasmine, u never be sunflower even u dressed in yellow
The fake pigment will fade away soon
Sunflower, perfumed never make u placed in jasmine row
The artificial scent will gone before noon
No need to hear anyone to drag you down
Yet thou be like a rose, beauty guarded by thorns
Thankful to have what u have now
You always loved by who you are now
It is always good to be yourself
Better than lost yourself in your own lie
In fantasy, to taste perfection, perfect lie u got
In reality, perfection is only belong to God
And...you are always loved the way you are
*Note: U are beautiful, no matter what people say...
This is for everyone that think they are not good enough
in many aspects not limited to beauty perception
poem by Unwritten Soul
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For Tony
you're home tony,
you're just right there
in the home of your heart
cool, be cool, tony boy
you're just right there
in your own home
feel the love
and kiss the person
next to you
close your eyes
and imagine a very
peaceful and
harmonious universe
stars with hands
holding each other
and dancing in
limitless space
of eternity
the moon and sun
on a perfect agreement
to make nights and
days of equal lengths
the rivers that flow
ending right there
in the deep blue sea
it is all perfect tony,
everything is just as perfect
as we wish and see
them all today
this moment of joy
and bliss this moment
of perfection
this moment when
our hearts fly like
birds towards
the island abundant
of our respective
& reserved
destinies
close your eyes tony
and imagine what perfection is
it is the shaking of the hands
of the mundane and the divine
the meeting of the minds
of God and Man
listen well tony to the sound
of peace and harmony
take note of every feeling
of stability
and then write
the next poem that comes
cascading like a waterfall
inside your mind
and then from where i am seated
i will read
the poem of your life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This peach my teacher
This peach
that I’ve just eaten,
been graced by,
been blessed by,
been taught by,
been transformed by…
it’s as if some
Messenger of the Gods
had arrived, stopwatch in hand,
saying, everything holds in perfection
but a little moment -
as William Shakespeare noted:
so I’m going to arrange things so that
as the stopwatch ticks out
ten seconds to that moment,
you’ll reach out your hand to the fruitbowl,
take it, feel its yielding softness under velvet skin,
cut it carefully twice through the poles,
once equatorially… and as it falls apart,
spear one segment; eat…
this peach
was full of what even Rilke
could say no more than, peachness..
it was a living proof of Plato:
its perfection taught me
where essence meets experience,
where actuality meets the ideal of peach;
where a singular perfection speaks of
all perfections; where perfection
leaves from perfection, naught else but perfect…
how could such a perfect thing
have been invented by one
who does not love? Who is not love?
This peach is love itself, and I the worshipper
must needs make of myself a living God
to whom to kneel, to offer praise and gratitude
for all perfection known..
this peach my teacher.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Past, Present, Future
i lived in the past for so long
that the present was always unknown.
now i always look ahead at all the possibilities
and there is so much, that i now see.
a shimmer of light at the end of the tunnel
and my thoughts being poured through a funnel.
the past is the past, and that's where it will stay
and in the present, we have to find a better way.
for the present will soon be our past
and if we don't do something, it will not last.
we must always look to the future
for it is only twenty four hours away
then it will be our past
and we have so much to do and say.
when i look at life, i truely have to laugh
today is our future and tomorrow it'll be our past.
now that i have you confused as to what i am
trying to say.
i guess i will try' to put it a better way'.
we all tend to procrastinate
always leaving it for tomorrow.
but! what if you don't see tomorrow.
and today you did'nt accomplish that task
how will you be remembered
if the present you left for last.
when we leave this material world
and our souls soar up in the sky
we will still have our memories
and that we can rely.
for when we get up there(if we do)
your soul will have carried all that you did
in this life
and the memories of friends, family
husband, or wife.
now when you look down on all that you had did
and asking yourself the question.
did i use my time, the way it was
meant to be?
or did i procrastinate, that others now speak of me?
we all have to work in order to survive.
but we must stop on occasion to smell the flowers.
and to enjoy all that we was given
otherwise how can you call this living.
(my thoughts: the words and stories were given to me.
so that i could write them down, for al the world to see.)
this is my philosophy.
poem by Louis Rams
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Fantasies Of A Mirror Part-1
The mirror gasped as she stood in front of it with her tresses flowing longingly
The mirror looked in her dark brown eyes
The mirror admired her almost perfect lips
The mirror gazed longingly at her perfect hips
The mirror took her in its arms
The mirror embraced her reflection in itself
The mirror ran its fingers through her soft hair
The mirror kissed her lips a thousand times
The mirror bit her slender neck
The mirror whispered a thousand nothings in her ears
The mirror …..The mirror ……The mirror
The mirror left its love bites all over her soft warm body
poem by Leonard Rebello
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This Belief Of Coming And Going
since i have not
found true love
since i have not
tasted the perfect
flavor of the kiss
i wish that death
comes earlier and
i promise myself that
i will be back again
in another body
searching for the
soul mate
that perfect kiss
that love that sends
me to the
perfection of my
being
and when this happens
i shall wish death again
with another promise
that i will never be
back
in this human form
again
for i am tired of
this pain
i am tired of this
longing
this imperfection that
makes me
want and crave
for more
this eternal damnation
of dissatisfaction
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Part Of The Wall
I know you just don't fit in,
I know no one likes you,
I know what you are going through.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Do I fit into the human race?
Or will I be part of the wall?
You were born with superpowers,
The ones that make you invisible girl,
You look at your self and say ugly,
But when I do I see beauty.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Do I fit into the human race?
Or will I be part of the wall?
You just love your self,
Cause you don't fit in,
Yeah, I know what that fells like.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Do I fit into the human race?
Or will I be part of the wall?
Close your eyes,
And think of the friends you have,
Laughing with you,
You are popular in my eyes.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Do I fit into the human race?
Or will I be part of the wall?
You are the wall paper,
Reds, green, and blue,
You might never fit in,
But don't worry,
I'll be friends with you.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Do I fit into the human race?
Or will I be part of the wall?
Ohhhhhhh
La, la, la, la, la
Ohhhhhhh
La, la, la, la, la
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Do I fit into the human race?
Or will I be part of the wall?
poem by Brianna King
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The Mirror Struggled
The mirror struggled; reflecting beauty such as hers
Prescribed a glory in the challenge – a fairytale
Or such as like! To shimmer back hypnotic hues
From auras of her skin – how do mirrors cope?
Hoary tales of pretty adolescent buds
Could never hope to match the tomes of dreamy
Pulchritude apprising us of such a belle as she.
The mirror shone; and as it worked itself, a moment –
Did it overlook the hidden melancholy?
Were melting eyes bedewed–? Florid lips imbued
With mournfulness? The hindrance of the silver glass!
Oh! to seek – to know the meaning of the sorrow!
She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven)
Never opened up her heart. The mirror struggled.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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