Epitaph On A Disturber Of His Times
We expected the violin's finger on the upturned nerve;
Its importunate cry, too laxly curved:
And you drew us an oboe-outline, clean and acute;
Unadorned statement, accurately carved.
We expected the screen, the background for reverie
Which cloudforms usefully weave:
And you built the immaculate, adamant, blue-green steel
Arch of a balanced wave.
We expected a pool with flowers to diffuse and break
The child-round face of the mirrored moon:
And you blazed a rock-path, begun near the sun, to be finished
By the trained and intrepid feet of men.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Expecting
Your mouth said this never
but your fingers have shown me
that your head is so clever
you claim that you own me
forever
You have the right to conduct me
in whatever fashion
your attempt construct me
in the interest of passion
you sent me
to toledo
I came back with handfulls
I did what you asked me
but after the thank yous
that you quickly got passed me
Im expected
youre expecting
Im expected
expected
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Much Is Expected
No one...
Given life to breathe,
Is born with a cold heart.
Beating with a rhythm,
That is ready to freeze.
No one...
Should be expected,
To show warmth and love.
If none has been surrounding one...
Being expressed.
Or shown to one how that's addressed.
No child learning to crawl, walk and talk.
Grows into an adult...
Prepared with maturity.
Or an accountability.
If no examples of that were ever there!
How is one expected to become aware?
Too much is expected.
From those who have been neglected.
And too much for too long goes undenied...
By one feeling insecure and desperate inside.
With no one to confide in...
From a shattering that goes on alone.
And kept condoned to grow unknown outside.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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So I did.
I kissed her child as she expected.
I praised my host as he expected.
I praised his work as I am supposed.
They wanted to be fooled so I did.
26.11.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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One should expect that the expected can be prevented, but the unexpected should have been expected.
quote by Norman Ralph Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is an endless procession of surprises. The expected rarely occurs and never in the expected manner.
quote by Vernon A. Walters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Certainly my parents were a huge influence. They always expected the most out of all of us. And expected us to do our very best. I'm thankful to them for allowing me to do what I wanted to do.
quote by Laurel Clark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bells, Pool And Sleep
Bells overbrim with sound
And spread from cupolas
Out through the shaking air
Endless unbreaking circles
Cool and clear as water.
A stone dropped in the water
Opens the lips of the pool
And starts the unovertaking
Rings, till the pool is full
Of waves as the air of bells.
The deep-sea bell of sleep
Under the pool of the mind
Flowers in concentric circles
Of annihilation till
Both sight and sound die out,
Both pool and bells are quelled.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Such Our Love
It was a bus by the corner,
I looked around and found no wheels,
Where are the seats, empty bus
The engine so inimical to locomotion,
Yet we expected it to move,
So was the bus, such our love
It was a clear blue sky,
The sun rays passing through earth,
Where are the clouds, empty sky
The sky so inimical to condensation,
Yet we expected it to rain,
So was the sky, such our love
It was a dead dodo,
So pityful in its dying minutes,
Where is life, dead dodo,
The dodo is inimical to its survival,
Yet we expected it to live and fly,
So was the dodo, such our love
You and I were a shadow,
An empty and stagnant bus,
A clear blue sky,
A lifeless dodo,
Planning was alien to us,
So was opportunism, such our love
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Plenty Of Shared Lip Service
Those unfamiliar with leadership,
Should not be expected
To understand it.
There are more accustomed,
To being followers.
And it can be annoying,
To hear them whining.
Bickering amongst themselves,
In footsteps from behind.
One who leads,
Hardly sleeps or properly eats.
Thinking of the whole as one entity,
And not several pieces to see pleased.
One who leads,
Had to learn to listen.
And those who have no idea what this means
Often pass judgement,
With a seeking to do it.
At every given opportunity.
Those unfamiliar with leadership,
Should not be expected.
To understand it.
What 'can' be expected from those unaware,
Is plenty of shared lip service.
And a volunteering of their mocked despair.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Empty Room
The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax.
The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats.
The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating,
Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone.
But time flows through the room, light flows through the room
Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling
Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire,
Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love is elusive.
Love – we don’t give
In expected measure
Nor do we get
In expected measure.
The world has never been happy.
13.02.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Pearls on a String
A lifetime full of motley shades,
some vibrant and a few hued blue
Most transpired as expected events,
others unceremoniously undue
Expected storms can be endured
not the sudden gusts of the winds wild
With time one learns to ingest the toughest
but the mushy intake mild
Millions may be in reckoning
but with just a handful one does equate
Those reposing faith in your objectivity
and with you empathetically relate
poem by Sunny Chopra
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Polyphony In A Cathedral
Music curls
In the stone shells
Of the arches, and rings
Their stone bells.
Music lips
Each cold groove
Of parabolas' laced
Warp and woof,
And lingers round nodes
Of the ribbed roof
Chords open
Their flowers among
The stone flowers; blossom;
Stalkless hang.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cocoon For A Skeleton
Clothes: to compose
The furtive, lone
Pillar of bone
To some repose.
To let hands shirk
Utterance behind
A pocket's blind
Deceptive smirk.
To mask, belie
The undue haste
Of breast for breast
Or thigh for thigh.
To screen, conserve
The pose, when death
Half strips the sheath
And leaves the nerve.
To edit, glose
Lyric desire
And slake its fire
In polished prose.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Roses
......White roses were fading,
beauteous blooms' life ended,
their last scent you expected,
petals your lips were braiding.
....Unspoken I walked in rain;
I suppose ardent flowers loved,
my course that winded curved,
along a song's whistled refrain.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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More Eyes Are Opened Wide
They wish to blame their failures,
On someone that isn't there yet.
Someone who isn't officially their leader.
Someone who respects,
The one who led them and created their mess.
And yet this new leader,
Is expected to correct this!
He is one who is highly respected.
But a crisis that affects their lives...
Had been their before his brilliance,
Was long suspected!
And that leader who diminished,
Their quality of life...
They followed and allowed him,
To destroy their values.
As it is observed and reflected.
And the new leader,
Although black...
Is expected to restore their dignity.
And quickly clean up their filthy dirty tracts.
As has been historically accustomed.
But these times more eyes are opened wide.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Background
You wish to find something in my background,
To soundly pound into the surrounding ground?
I've tested and teased and experimented too.
There is nothing that I hide,
In my background from you.
In fact my honesty may be more than you believe.
Every hair on my butt has been inspected for all to see.
And I keep in shape...
Just in case,
I am dared to moon!
My dignity I pride.
With an identity I trust!
But if you must probe into my background...
You can begin with my butt!
I am told it is one of my assets.
And I know that when I strut!
Proud am I to be so blessed...
With an abundance of 'gifts'
I shared and love to give...
With a less expected arresting seriousness,
Some live to inhabit within limited exhibits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I shall know
I shall know
When time comes to throw
Whole of my weight to that belief
For providing real relief
It is expected
To change when truly acted
In love, in hate and in recognition
You have provided me true ignition
Dreams do come true
When one has passed through
In ordeals and in real
To the greatness and to fee
I, for one, loved and lost
But what did it cost?
Nothing in fact
All were nice acts
It is true union
To find with companion
When one feels truly blessed
Relief from life when not at all chased
It is just a smile
That provided happiness meanwhile
All goes well with his mercy
I share and bow before almighty
You were never to be mine
To provide me joy to feel fine
It has come from a great wave
When I had escape and clean shave
What on part is expected?
Real bond and promises to be acted
In spirit and in anticipation
For strengthening the relation
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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There! Because That Is What People Naturally Do
On what scale can one rate hatred.
To what temperature can heat rise...
From those despising themselves and others?
How long can tolerance be expected to prevail?
To calm those tensions with attempts,
That a peacefulness...
Will ease the minds of those who vent.
On what graph can an explanation,
Describe one's pain?
In what debates...
Can a surprising happiness,
Be concluded as shown on one's face.
Will those times ever return,
When it becomes apparent...
Lessons have been learned?
And respect that is given,
Isn't stubbornly expected to be earned.
But is there!
Because that is what people naturally do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Night Piece
Climb, claim your shelf-room, far
Packed from inquisitive moon
And cold contagious stars.
Lean out, but look no longer,
No further, than to stir
Night with extended finger.
Now fill the box with light,
Flood full the shining block,
Masonry against night.
Let window, curtain, blind
Soft-sieve and sift and shred
The impertinence of sound.
Now draw the silence up,
A blanket round your ears;
Lay darkness close and sure,
Inverted cup to cup
On your acquiescent eyes:
Dismissing body's last outposted spies.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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