Thesaurus
It could be the name of a prehistoric beast
that roamed the Paleozoic earth, rising up
on its hind legs to show off its large vocabulary,
or some lover in a myth who is metamorphosed into a book.
It means treasury, but it is just a place
where words congregate with their relatives,
a big park where hundreds of family reunions
are always being held,
house, home, abode, dwelling, lodgings, and digs,
all sharing the same picnic basket and thermos;
hairy, hirsute, woolly, furry, fleecy, and shaggy
all running a sack race or throwing horseshoes,
inert, static, motionless, fixed and immobile
standing and kneeling in rows for a group photograph.
Here father is next to sire and brother close
to sibling, separated only by fine shades of meaning.
And every group has its odd cousin, the one
who traveled the farthest to be here:
astereognosis, polydipsia, or some eleven
syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word tool.
Even their own relatives have to squint at their name tags.
I can see my own copy up on a high shelf.
I rarely open it, because I know there is no
such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous
around people who always assemble with their own kind,
forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors
while others huddle alone in the dark streets.
I would rather see words out on their own, away
from their families and the warehouse of Roget,
wandering the world where they sometimes fall
in love with a completely different word.
Surely, you have seen pairs of them standing forever
next to each other on the same line inside a poem,
a small chapel where weddings like these,
between perfect strangers, can take place.
poem by Billy Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The f word and me
The other day we discussed reasons
why people use
the magical f word.
a Young woman is of the opinion
that it’s because of a lack of imperfect language,
where a person’s vocabulary
lacks other words to use.
I think that there are many more other reasons
to slip in everywhere
and that vocabulary
has very little
or nothing to do with it.
One thing that can incite it
is exposure,
where people hear it
hundreds of times
every day
like in an army.
Subsequently without intention
it becomes part of your conversation
and your own vocabulary,
without drawing any attention
with yourself.
The word f is a power word
that give colour intensity
to the meanings of other words
and it can underline, emphasize
or lift some out.
You can also use it as a word
that has many meanings
and use it like a good shifting spanner
that shift for meaning values.
This word can also
be almost any word type
that gives bigger power
to other words used with it.
The thing that really matters
what others read
in the meaning of my words
and if I loose integrity by using it.
There are times
my mother wants to catch a fit
when I use the f word
and not from the meaning
of my words,
but from the negative context
that can be drawn with the word
and the easy transfer
of the word on children that hear my dialogue.
[With thanks to Skymaster, whose article inspired this poem.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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That Way He had.
That way he had with words,
That tone he could produce to
Make you go weak at the knees.
You remember him; the photograph
Did it, brought him to mind. You turn
It over, see the scribbled writing on
The back. A poem he wrote, scribbled
Down. The blue has faded, the ink dried
To a death, yet the written words remain,
The message clear: he loved you, compared
You to some summer’s day, not original,
But moving in its way. Copied out of some
Book, no doubt, Shakespearean sonnet, word
For word, the meaning meant, the message
All set down. You kiss the photograph, cry,
Laugh. What a place to drown; what a place
To depart and break a heart: drunk in a bath.
poem by Terry Collett
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Perfect Circle
Put your hair back, we get to leave
Eleven gallows on your sleeve
Shallow figure, winners paid
Eleven shadows way out of place
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Pull your dress on and stay real close
Who might leave you where I left off?
A perfect circle of acquaintances and friends
Drink another, coin a phrase
Heaven assumed, shoulders high in the room
Heaven assumed, shoulders high in the room
Heaven assumed, shoulders high in the room
Try to win and suit your needs
Speak out sometimes but try to win
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
Standing too soon, shoulders high in the room
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words
we open the doors to worlds unknown
when we sit and read.
words help us to travel
this earth far and wide
even makes us soar high into the sky.
words can tell us of the past
the present, and even the future.
if we only look
inside a book.
words to make a contract
words to make a vow
all these words
we can use right now.
words tell your feelings, your thoughts, desires, passions
likes, dislikes, fears, joys
but most of all, love can express the love you have within.
for a mother, father, sister, brother
for a man or a woman.
your chest becomes overwhelmed
with the feeling that you have inside.
a love that you can not hide.
a love so strong that it consumes your soul
a beautiful wonder to behold.
for it rises higher than the highest mountain
and deeper than the deepest sea.
when you say those special words
'you belong to me'.
words sharpen the mind to all that is done
like the rising of the sun.
if we could not see or hear words,
it would be like living in darkness.
and never learning to appreciate
what we was given.
so these words i write today
expresses what i want to say.
without words we could not live
and that my friend
would be a down right sin.
poem by Louis Rams
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Unused, but perfectly good words
Lonely words, in need of some usage
Perfectly good, yet almost unknown
Let’s take a quick look in my dictionary book
Let’s not leave these words all alone
For example, under A: The word “Abscission”
It’s quite usual to say “leaves fall from the trees”
But we could also say, with utmost precision
We could use a word that we very rarely see
When we say “leaves fall from trees in abscission”
That’s probably the first time… in quite a long time
That word, that means “the natural parting of a leaf from a tree”
That that word, has now… seen the light of day
could become quite common, if used by you and me
I can just hear people exclaiming, as they peer up above
As the fall’s colors fill their vision
“We’re amazed, we’re agog, we’re simply in love
At the trees…in the Fall… in abscission”
We can do it, you and I, we can set this word free
But in our mission, must not show indecision! ! !
We must casually let it drop, in daily conservation, you and me
And this Fall will become filled with “abscission”
poem by David Whalen
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Of Three Or Four In The Room
Out of three or four in the room
One is always standing at the window.
Forced to see the injustice amongst the thorns,
The fires on the hills.
And people who left whole
Are brought home in the evening, like small change.
Out of three or four in the room
One is always standing at the window.
Hair dark above his thoughts.
Behind him, the words, wandering, without luggage,
Hearts without provision, prophecies without water
Big stones put there
Standing, closed like letters
With no addresses; and no one to receive them.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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There Is No Such Thing As A Meaningless Poem
there is no such thing
as a word without meaning
each word has a shadow
it has its own moon
and marsh
each sigh calls for a word
to give it a sound that you can hear
inside your heart
each moan has a memory beside it
warm and
so gentle
each touch is a syllable that you
keep in silence
as a treasure inside your skin
hence there is no such thing
as a poem without meaning at all
there is always a body
a hand
at night there is always a whisper
a love call
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ramdas Choi Chang poems 1
Ramdas
Choi Chang
Poems
13/06/2013
Morning moods
Poem 1.
Nightingale sings,
Namaste, Namaste
Peacock dance to that song,
Some people are so strong,
They sleep well till 10,
even if Crows sing and cocks dance on their bed!
Poem 2.
Some are good poets
Some are good writers
There are so many Good topics
Most successful are more controversial,
If there is shadow, then there is light!
Poem 3
some men have very good knowledge,
And some are highly rich,
There are some taps have block and are useless,
As useless as that men said above!
Poem 4
Honest people have high demand
As far as brilliant are there,
People use shoes and slippers,
The shoes and slippers are used by brilliant to save feet from thorns and pricky stones!
Poem 5.
There are stones useful
There are stones useless
Strangely men are used by men,
useful are used as steps and pavements,
Useless are polished and use in jewels!
Poem 6.
Strange people need not remain as strangers,
ones own strange behaviours can strangely convert a relative to stranger,
And a stranger to own relative,
We all relative to each other,
we all are relatively relatives, Only we can be relatively perfect that
Perfect relatives!
Poem7
Some people have choice,
Live better or leave better,
There are Dogs and kittens,
they live better than people! Poem 8
There lived a king in Burma,
Good ruler he was and powerful
so far men saw,
Destiny is that force,
His grand sons forced to draw rickshaw!
Poem9
He was a good dreamer,
In dream he was a soccer player,
Goal after Goal made him richer
and richer,
He married, and he found a good match,
hatrick goals he scored,
Next morning his goal was to
get corrected his wife's bones!
Poem10
In this house
I became guest,
A paying guest
every time
I have to pay,
For every thing,
Not only for my
Word and deed,
But also for
Every thought,
I think!
But then my
Host told me
'you can stay
here free,
If you accept
Whatever I give,
For that you
need not pay! '
To save myself,
I have to either,
Sleep well forever!
Or just remain,
A thoughtless,
Living for the Host!
Poem 11.
Clouds float here and there in sky,
Thick, low and dark are some,
and
thin, high and bright are some,
Strange are men and like clouds,
are two types,
Like clouds they float in one's life!
Poem 12
Ocean is vast and deep,
Earth too vast with mountain
and valleys,
Ants are very special,
I learnt this when I heard, Ant of my house talk
To ant of next house!
Poem 13
Two nightingales wanted to sing
together,
One Pakistani, Mehdi Hasan,
Another is Indian Lata
Mangeskar, Human boundaries separated
them and no human deserved
their duet,
God only want to enjoy song,
when they sing together!
Poem14.
No one knows whether God is in temple or not,
No one knows,
where he dwells,
Great brokers demand high
brokerage, Just as high priests, they demand
their commission!
Poem15
Ordinary people love to race into
arms of love,
There are special people who
only love arms race!
Poem 16
Language is our problem
everywhere,
chinese can't talk spanish,
spanish can't talk Korean,
God became big failure,
as he can't race with racial race of men!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Oh, Brother
Im not much for making little wishes
But Id like a little wish to come true for you
Im not talking about loaves and fishes
But I wish that there was something I could do for you
Heres a little bit of cheap advice
To be taken in an hour of need
Dont assume that the life you left
Is the life you have to lead
(chorus)
When you come home what you gonna do
Oh brother, oh brother
Dont you try to deny
What you know to be true
The same mess of misery that you done been through
Standing in line
And its waiting for you
One kiss leads to another
Brother when you come back home
Id like to know whos knocking on door
Id like to know what they come here for
Youd like to say no
But the words wont come
Come in and sit down, seem to roll off your tongue
You forget to remember, to never die young
One kiss leads to another
Brother when you come back home
Standing in line, all of your friends
Standing in line, party never ends
Standing in line, the river flows, the river bends
Standing in line, all of your friends
- chorus -
And that moon will be
Shining in the trees
All night long
Something bound to happen for sure
Soon youll be
Stopping by talking to a friend again
Swear you aint never tasted nothing so pure
- chorus -
When you come home, your friends are dropping by
When you come home, the moon is gonna shine
When you come home, I tell you no lie
When you come home, theyre gonna offer you a line
Standing in line, all of your friends
Standing in line, party never ends now
Standing in line, the river flows, the river bends
Standing in line, all your so called friends
Standing in line, when you come home
Standing in line, oh brother, oh brother now
Standing in line, when you come home
Standing in line, what youre gonna do now
Standing in line...
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Giverny
Deep inside these old dusty walls
Theres a sacred heart, Id know this garden anywhere
She was warm, she was deep summertime
She was love itself and she was standing there
Standing close, so close to me
I closed my eyes and I could see
Giverny
And in this strange and holy place
I looked for love and found it everywhere
It was what you saw she came to see
Because of you she was standing there
Giverny
Books may burn and rain may fall
But what is here I know will last forever more
Colours change, there are no defines
She was love itself and I thank you for giving me
Giverny
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Safest Place To Hide
It seems like yesterday when I said I do
And after all this time my heart still burns for you
If you dont know by now that youre my only one
Just take a look inside me and watch my heart strings come undone
I know I promised you forever
Is there no stronger word I can use?
To reassure you when the storm is raging outside
Youre my safest place to hide
Can you see me? Here I am
I need you like I needed you then
When I feel like giving up
I climb inside your heart and still find
Youre my safest place to hide
You see colors no one else can see
In every breath you hear a symphony
You understand me like nobody can
I feel my soul look for you like a flower blooming
When this whole world gets too crazy
And theres nowhere left to run
I know you give me sanctuary
Youre the only truth I know
Youre the road back home
Can you see me? Here I am
Standing here, where Ive always been
And when words are not enough
I climb inside your heart and still find
Youre my safest place to hide
I know I promised you forever
Theres no stronger word I can use
To reassure you when the storm is raging outside
Youre my safest place to hide
Can you see me? Here I am
Standing here, where Ive always been
When I feel like giving up
I climb inside your heart and still find
Youre my safest place to hide
Oh, yeah
Youre my safest place to hide
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Alone Happy Without Working Computer
Home alone happy without working computer
I take my pen in hand
And slowly write these words –
Let the world click and paste and post
I am out of it for now-
I have before me an evening of any book I like
Of any page I want to write
-
Peace of Mind is one place of attention at a time-
Here weighing each word as I write
I am at home with my inner self-
I hear my own thoughts
I correct them at my own pace.
So many words and so many pages
Have been written in my life-
Now in this one
I am wholly at home
Peaceful, quiet happy
Each word a small blessing
As I write it-
This is the only poem I know
The only page I see
The only place of attention
I give myself and my soul to
At this moment.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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By Starlight.
She'd tell you
which group of stars
were what
in the evening sky
as you stood outside
the church after
choir practice
of a Friday night
and her finger
would lift up
and point it all out
and her words
would drift
on the night air
like cigarette smoke
and you held onto
her every word
as she spoke
not for what she said
of night sky
or constellation of stars
but for the sound
of her voice
how it disturbed
the universe
made the deadly silence
less deadly
how they could bring
you in close to her
could embrace you
as she did
when no one
was looking
or you were both alone
some place standing
or sitting face to face
and that particular night
as she pointed up
and out
her other hand
grabbed yours
in the evening dark
and gave a squeeze
and hold
and then let go
how deep
that love was back then
is hard to figure
but love it was
you know.
poem by Terry Collett
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Home is much more
I thought of home
As a dwelling house
Where I could lay naked without a blouse
I thought of home
As a dwelling house
Playing cat and mouse with my spouse
But home is much more!
Much more than a place you lay your head
O! where do I begin
Home is within
Home is deep rooted in ones soul
Home is empty if your heart has a large hole
Home is rebirth from childbirth to death
Home is when you make peace with thyself
And return back to earth!
I thought of home
As a bed with a respectable foam
I thought of home
As a place we feel we belong
Recharging our bodies to be strong
I thought of home
As living in no chronological order
With father, mother, sister or brother
I thought of home
Associating it with family
Affiliating it with ones country
Contemplating with the idea
As where one spends Christmas, Easter and New Year
O! dear
But home is much more!
O! where do I begin
Home is within
Home is thy inside twin
Your spiritual interior environment
No one dares enter without thy consent!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Words
So many words are there in our speech,
they can be very poor, they can be rich.
No one can be indifferent to their meaning
as they are alive and express your feeling.
Spoken word is not just a sound,
it can’t be found on the ground,
it’s always in your head, sometimes in your soul.
When it is spoken it becomes a parole.
A word is an energy of your spirit,
it was presented to you by God, it’s His merit.
A word is a tool of communication,
A word is a source of information.
“A word spoken is past recalling”.
Strolling all around it can’t be found,
returned back and kept in your sack.
“The pen is mightier than the sword”,
that was told about a written word.
Words, words, words………………
They are love and seduction,
each one with a certain function.
They are wonders of sin
and songs of education.
They are salvation, temptation, affectation…
They can be an executioner,
they can be the owner of a whiner.
A word can be a treatment,
It helps when you are ill.
A kind word is better than a pill.
But…there are words that just kill.
They sound like a horrible drill.
Words, words, words…………
They are triumph and defeat,
They can be pleasant and sweet.
At the end of my message
I would like everyone to acknowledge:
Each word has a strength
and it doesn’t depend on its length.
So, think before saying a word,
as it is quite well heard even by walls,
it touches someone’s soul,
it shouldn’t be a wicked foul.
“Better the foot to slip than the tongue”.
And… there is no exception for the young.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Standing On Higher Ground
(lead vocal - geoff barradale)
I know the truth
But I cant say
And I have to turn my head
And look the other way
Im not afraid
And I wont lie
As long as I see no wrong
I wont need to testify
I see the world
And Im looking from a high place
Way above it all
Standing on higher ground
I breathe the air
While theyre running in a rat race
Way above it all
Standing on higher ground
I feel the blow
But I dont speak
And I have to close my eyes
Pretending Im asleep
Well I see the tears
But I dont cry
As long as I do no wrong
I dont need an alibi
I see the world
And Im looking from a high place
Way above it all
Standing on higher ground
I breathe the air
While theyre running in a rat race
Way above it all
Standing on higher ground
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Sort Of Poetry
A group of words that intends nothing
But only me
A group of words running towards a market of ideas
With no intention to buy or to sell
A group of children running towards the parks
Rushing
For no reason but
To play
Or simply a lonely
Word
With no other ambition, but to simply stroll under some shady trees of the boulevard
It has no direction
A mumbo jumbo with
No matching magic intended
A group of words like running cars to roads without traffic signs
Chaotic, dangerous, deadly
Accident-prone
Willing to take a solo flight
Then crash into the deepest sea
Or hit an indestructible mountain
Words that run berserk like kamikaze
When fed up
May take a sudden twist
Yogic stand stilling
Hide if you seek
Die if you will
Absurd
At times defecating,
Farting in the middle of a solemn mass
A group of words invented by my heart and mind
And mine alone
Hypocrite words hand in hand with honest words
Telling lies
And telling truths
And you shall be confused
By all these confabulations
Though not what I really wanted to achieve,
As I have no criminal malice
Except to make this group of words
For its own sake
My sake
My very own pleasure
Tiny pleasure
Now numb,
Now dead
Another victim
In a perfect crime
My own group of words wanting only to be human,
Ought to be,
Must have been,
And always must be
A group of human words
Where burdens are buried underneath
Or in-between
Hibernating mudfish
Molting garter snake
Molten magma
Saved saliva
Spittle
Living group of words,
Pulsating tadpole
Searching like a frisking airport guard trained for terrorism
A group of words, sort of poetry, sort of
My life
Expressing the idea
That some ideas are meant simply to be concealed
To be unexpressed, unexposed
. Like a newly cut- stem
Of a purple allamanda for propagation
For the next generation
Hidden from the sun
Glare is death
Exposure can become invisibility
Like familiarity breeding contempt
Too much
Can be nothing
In effect
Conceal to show the power of expression
I conceal to show my self to you
Helpless in anger
And it is good
Because we all need it
What is there to say?
When everything is there
Like a sea lion sunbathing
Or the penguins in procession
Or the goldfish
Inside a bowl
The noon sun
The full midnight moon
The white cross of Magellan
Or the twin towers of York
The need of not having to say any word
After all
Is the gift of etiquette
I am
Silent in too much noise
Unfathomable by too much layered depth
Of the everyday mores
Thick face
Thin scary skin
Lively feelings meant for the dead
For those better not said, better not done
For those that which these words have done and for those left undone
My life, my sort of group, of own words
All written for the prolongation of the secretive human race
For the preservation of this transient world
In the name of duty, of life, the ought, the must, the mandatory, of all the laws, man-made and
God- made
I shall obey
I have followed
Down to the last letter
All focused for eternity
All these words
Of fingers pointing towards the thousand careful touches of humanity
My greatest sigh of all
This group of words is so dedicated.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Front Line
I am a veteran of the war
I up and joined the army back in 1964
At sixteen I just had to be a man at any cost
I volunteered for Vietnam where I got my leg shot off
I recall a quote from a movie that said "who's more a man
Than a man with a reason that's worth dyin' for"
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
They gave me a uniform and a tiny salty pill
To stop the big urge I might have for the wrong kind of thrill
They put a gun in my hand and said, "shoot until he's dead"
But it's hard to kill when 'please your friend' echoes through your head
Brought up in church taught no man should take another's life
But then put in a jungle where life has no price
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
Back in the world the paper reads today
Another war is in the brewing
But what about the lives of yesterday
And the many happy families that have been ruined
My niece is a hooker and my nephew's a junkie too
But they say I have no right to tell them how they should do
They laugh and say "quit bragging" 'bout the war you should never have been in
But my mind is so brain-washed I'd prob'bly go back and do it again
I walk the neighborhood parading my purple heart
With a fear of agent orange that no one will stop
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
[Repeat 2 times...fade out]
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Can Choose Your Friends
We have brothers and sisters our parents as well,
Our families are precious; well that's what they tell,
There'll be times we love them, on occasions we'll hate,
But they'll always be family, now that does frustrate.
On the issue of relations, it's made crystal clear,
They're our kith and kin which we should hold dear,
They epitomise all of our hopes and fears,
While bringing us joy there's also the tears.
We must love them all, forever, it's said,
Though there are some you would love to behead,
Whoever said that must be totally insane,
Or one who refuses to engage with their brain?
The problem with relations,
Is where it all ends?
You can't pick your family but,
'' You Can Choose Your Friends '
If you have a companion whom you no longer like,
You can just say to them, well go take a hike,
But if you fight with your family you're told to forgive,
Which will adversely affect you as long as you live.
Grudges are held when bad words are spoken,
Insincere apologies used as a token,
Until the next time is the golden rule,
That is a fact not the words of a fool.
Because there's a kinship we must show restraint,
Relatives are united is the picture they paint,
At family gatherings do we show some respite,
Do we hell, we get into a fight.
Kinship is different,
Life's rules it amends,
You can't pick your family but,
'You Can Choose Your Friends'
Weddings and christenings have the same effect,
Every one of the family think they are correct,
While sane and sober mistakes they'll excuse,
When they get drunk the battle ensues.
The very next day they'll think, what have I done?
My very own family second to none,
Their love and devotion does make me cry,
As do the stitches and bloody black eye.
Never again, are their fine words of choice,
They just love the sound of their own bloody voice,
Some of their mouths could do with a rinse,
The way some behave can and does make you wince.
They're supposed to be precious,
But when none of them bends,
You can't pick your family but,
'You Can Choose Your Friends'
The problem with life is we all have a choice,
But we're scared to admit it; if we could we'd rejoice,
No families to fight for, no in house disputes,
No relations to battle with, no more blood roots.
Coming and going whenever we so please,
A life without arguing, where everyone agrees.
Yes it's dream but dreams can come true,
But so can nightmares, on that you must chew.
The family portraits conceal many facts,
Including deceitful heinous acts,
Because they are kin their misdeeds we must hide,
All Retribution must be put to the side.
So become an acquaintance,
Follow new trends,
You can't pick your family but,
'You Can Choose Your Friends'
The Words As Bridges...
in a true relationship
a word is a bridge that can connect
two distant cities,
it will take just a syllable to get to know
each other and cling like vines
on the trellis and give a flower
to the passers-by,
others have destroyed many bridges
with just one word, the harshest thing that can
happen to
syllables, like
saying bye. And it ends there like
a shadow of the
western movie against the sun
and then the curtains
fall
and we all leave and carry with us
the story of
guilt and forgiveness....
on my own experience
the words are always bridges to old cities
and though rusty
they still hold the missing gaps
and the river or the
sea below
will always be hungry for some
morsels of lives
to fall
in my own world
no word destroys, no syllable cuts
an umbilical cord,
i place it there. In print.
and time is powerless to erase it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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