Pages Of My Mind
Faces from my past flicker
through the pages of my mind
along with shadowy figures
I wish I had left behind.
Old loves and new loves
smile and say hello as they pass
through the pages of my mind.
They come in quiet moments
when I am at peace with the world.
Reflecting images of times left behind.
There are no future images,
as those pages haven’t been written yet,
only ones from a distant past.
They stroll across with happy moments
written on the pages of my mind.
11 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Related quotes
Birth Images Etched Into Conscious Beings
thoughts are instant born
upon pages of mind art
gifted onto screens of life
painted into love joy swift
images knowing create
beauty in mind refreshes
as art embraces skill art
in appreciation we shall paint
together write birth images
etched into conscious beings
Original complete version of the poems ‘Pages Of Mind Art’, ‘Beauty In Mind Refreshes’ and ‘In Appreciation We Shall Paint’ by Terence George Craddock.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Written In Blood And Love
In pages written in blood, in pages written love.
Stories are told of you grow old together.
Live to dieing forever.
Scarred by the pain of misery.
Scarred by the imperfections the have created so many rejections.
Give me the antidote to the poison that I have slipped in my own drink.
Let me breath the life in again.
Drowned out all the cowardliness of my angel who holding me up.
Such a beautiful crutch.
Still in the pages written in blood, in the pages written love.
We are just one of millions.
Every story is the same.
All that's changed is the names, places, and faces.
Erase it all.
Rewrite the entire fall.
Let the wind take me.
Let the lightning strike me here and now.
For i will not let it cloud my judgement.
No matter the storm that's brought on.
In the pages written in blood, in the pages written in love
Hate me for the right reasons
Hate me because I am what you wanted me to be.
In all the irony.
I didn't change for you.
It was done way before you came along and sang your song.
All the pages have been written, in blood and love.
The Shakespeare play Romeo and Juliet to the fullest.
Its the cruelest games in tragedy strikes without a ounce of leniency.
No mercy to those who are jumping without a life line.
Protection against the evil of an accident so quick.
A slip becomes a fall.
Next your trying to stall buy a little time.
But its in vain.
Nothing can be changed.
Its sink or swim till you reach shore.
So long off stripped of everything you thought was important.
Values so mixed up in these pages written in blood, in the pages written in love.
We have killed another pair of doves.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Destiny Life Leaf Pages
manuscripts we all life write
destiny life leaf pages
some leave empty pages white
others shimmer reflecting light
some smear pages with dirt
record chaos rip rub out hurt
how shall we fill manuscript pages...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Old Love Letters
Faded love letters
Written from the heart
Pages faded yellow
While we’ve been apart
New loves come
And old loves disappear
But Your old love letters
Will always be here
There’s a tear on every page
For the nights I cried for you
The love within those pages
At the time was very true
But the years of being apart
Has let our love slip away
And all I have left now
Is faded love letters from you
poem by David Harris
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Quiet Moments
While sitting in the quiet moments
faces from the past flicker pass,
old loves and friends from a bygone era
mingle together in days gone by.
Some have passed away
and other are simply gone
swallowed up within the mist of time.
None are forgotten for the joy they brought
when the heart was at its lowest ebb.
They remain to be remembered
each day that passes through
when we sit in our quiet moments
for a few second each day.
8 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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Pages of the Mind
is your mind turning
the pages of my mind?
i heard the shuffling
of pages in the casual
and laidback corridors
of my mind and thought
about all my poems
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Pages of Life
Yesterday's page has benn written
it is over.
Tomorrow's page has to be written,
it is still has to come.
But,
Today's page can be written,
only by you.
It is only yours'
so, live the best today by correcting your past pages
and making ways for your future roads.
Life is yours' and live it to the fullest.
Today,
never think about past,
erase them from your mind,
think about future,
by writing your today.
poem by Yashika Goyal
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Ann
She and I met so very long ago
When times were different and very slow
She had caught my heart which I won't deny
Oh how I do wish, I had let her inside.
I remember her smile as the noon day sun
When her life was beginning and mine had begun
Together we were one but that was my thought
As that arrow from cupid she had never caught.
Would I had fought for her love I know that I would
Would I had lived for her now I wish that I could
She says that I shouldn’t but I say that I can
Oh how I need and want, my precious Ann.
In my mind I reach with a quivering hand
Though to her and then to all to make my stand
But then came reality and she was not there
So I close my mind sadly, to GOD I said a prayer.
I turn back the pages of the loves of my life
I see girlfriends and lovers and even a wife
But one of those pages was intentionally left blank
Was it from a love whose emotions I had not drank.
I now reach out to hold her from my abyss
But will she step away from my hands and my lips
Again I will reach for that woman, as I to be her man
Oh how I need and want, my precious Ann.
poem by Randy McClave
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The Moments of My Life
My life,
I now feel,
is fully covered
by white fog,
the dark white fog
of the sad moments
I faced in my life;
the moments
We spent together.
Now I feel
all pages of
my life
have become white
and the
ink used by The Writer
of my life
also became white.
I think,
here after,
no one
can read
the The Moments of My Life.
Written by Him with white ink
on the white pages.
poem by Ravindra Koshti
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Memorı es of Yesterday
Etched on the pages of
my heart,
Summer days, holding
hands,
Building castles in
the sand.
Making plans, and you.
MEMORIES,
Etched on the pages of
my mind,
Balmy nights, youthful
flows,
Weaving magic as I go,
and you.
MEMORIES,
Of someone I used to
know,
Images in the long ago.
A name I can't forget,
I still think of you
and yet,
MEMORIES.
poem by Heather Burns
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What Is Written In Red
I am written in red,
I am sliding across the page of life.
I am racing across the lines of language.
I am red.
I write words,
I create lines and sentences,
I am kept in solitude
I am red.
I create paragraphs.
I create signatures.
I know what you're thinking before you speak,
I am red.
I cannot breath because I am enclosed in a capsule.
A capsule that covers the knowledge inside.
All I do is stare at pages,
All I know is pages,
I become apart of the pages,
And the pages become apart of me.
I become apart of english,
I become apart of words,
I am RED.
BY: Takisha Fields
poem by Kiesha fields
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Between the pages
Between the pages
~
between the pages
we line ourselves in verse
where we play out a story
of our own making
the turns and twists
brought through words
etched upon the page
ink flows to its own beat
like a raging heart
pouring out before the eyes
a world becomes forgotten
lost in the celebration
between pages
each line shared
written
in its own breath
creation begins
time lapses
into our verse
poem by Matthew Holloway
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My Song
I wrote a song
It's called 'my life'
I tried my best to make it a good one
I'd never written a song
Twas indeed my first
I had an eraser
I couldn't clean my mistakes though
It turned out to be a long song
A hundred and twenty pages worth
A page a year
I made a mess of it
Blue pen made a mark
As depression took a quarter of it
Yellow pen made an entrance
I decided it was better than blue
Red pen tried to hurt me
As all anger was kept inside
Green pen whispered a note
I wished I had my neighbour's song
So many colours on just one song
Twenty-five pages were dark
I knew not which way to go
I tried to turn a page but couldn't
I basked in pages gone
Hence left several pages blank
Twenty-five pages were wet
As tears serenaded my heart, it did the pages
Too much pain in one song
Tried to change the words
The things I thought all made the song
On a scale of good to bad, bad stole the day
I searched and found other songs titled 'my life'
I wrote my song the way they had
My song was like a painting
One in utter disharmony
One drawn by a clueless artist
But an artist whose passion burned his painting
I set my heart on fire on page 35
There had to be more
And more I had
On page 120, my eyes were dim and hands tired
Since pages couldn't be turned
My mind sat, and looked back
What had I done?
I'd been mountain high
I'd been valley low
I'd been good
I'd been bad
I'd been....
I lay my head on my song
Took my last breath
But before I did
I held a girl
Who had a song called 'my life'
She read my song
And shed a tear
And said I had written....a masterpiece.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Tracks, Trails, Lines and pages
Tracks in forests… of woodland creatures
Trails of shooting stars in summer skies
Tracks of rockets o’er bloody battlefields
Traces of wrinkles round wizened eyes
Lines of wisdom on wrinkled faces
Lines of ants upon the floor
Lines of prose on parchment pages
Lines of carts inside the stores
Pages of life, inside old diarys
Pages dog-eared to mark the places
Pages filled with tales sad and fiery
Pages filled with empty spaces
poem by David Whalen
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Myriad Thoughts
I sit here in myriad thoughts
dancing around my head
too fed up to put them to bed.
Thoughts of the past,
thoughts of the future too,
thoughts of things this and that
and thoughts of what to do.
Memories invade at times
of pastures long gone by
as the myriad thoughts
fill my mind with anger and with love
and times; I wish I could have lingered with
when my years were young.
Things pass in phases,
hearts entwine then fall apart,
seasons readily appear,
stay awhile and then depart.
Here I sit in a lonely waste
thinking thoughts of what might have been
if the crystal ball I look into had only seen.
Now the myriad thoughts appear
to haunt me in quiet times
and carry me to distant places
the world has left behind.
Those little specks of moments
that still linger from the past
that lay waiting to capture me
before the quiet time has passed.
28 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Faded Pages
Recently I started retyping
a manuscript of short stories
I had written twenty years ago.
The pages were faded;
too much time being opened to the sun.
As I typed, I smiled
at the things I had written
and the dialogue I had created.
The stories are about a cat
and looking at the world
through his eyes and thoughts.
I had even created him a language
that I had to write a glossary
at the back of the book to explain
what some of the phrases meant.
There is a vast array of characters
and most have a funny turn.
I also remember what prompted me
to write the stories long ago.
My original intention was to write
one story and one story only,
but a friend of mine at the time
persuaded me to write another and another.
Before long, a volume was finished
with enough stories to start another.
From a one off story I have written over sixty now
about the cat and all his friends.
Now as I flick through these faded pages,
which I haven’t read in years,
I find myself being reunited
with many long lost friends.
26 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Dear Diary
i am writing like i am talking to you dear diary
my true friend
mama and papa died a long time ago
and i am left with some wounds and scabs and
some injuries that refuse to hear about those
that must die and go away
today, i will tell you something but i will not write it
in your pages
i am happy because i do not think anymore
i am happier because i do not have to write anymore
i am happiest because now i live in my mind away from the
the cage of your pages, i have learned to live and fly away like a bird
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Book
My life is a leaf
Bind together in a book
Written
With sweat and blood
Pages after pages
With the taste of Pain and joy
Every emotion
Big or small
Fully charged
Packed and sealed
Every incident
Recoded in details
For the experience
Good or bad
If you want to learn
Whether there is any love
For you and mankind
You just need to turn
The page number twenty one
Chapter after chapter
Written with mixture
Of success and failure
If any one
Written badly
And Tastes sour
It is my life
Full of blood and flesh
Please pass on to another
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Pages In Tyme
Looking through the pages of my life
I stop and remember
Those days that became chapters
In an otherwise ordinary life
Oh how they stand so clear in my mind
As if they were only yesterday
Always there each time
I go and search for them
For they are what made me
What I am today
The happy, sad the good and the bad
Oh how those times write the story of my life
They are what will give me comfort
Now and and in the last days of my life
For the candle of life once ablaze that shone bright
Is now nothing more than a flicker
For memmories made today
Seem to slip away as fast as they are made
Oh how I thank the Lord
For those special pages given just to me
For they will comfort me
When all else has gone dark
poem by David Kush
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A Reminder for Myself...
erasing the past
is like burning the pages of your diary
the smoke hurts a while
but
soon you begin to write your own future
another page
another stroke of the pen
that sometimes we admire because it is nicer now
there will always be a difference
until you tear the pages again
crumple them
and let them go
sometimes i think
i need to make paper planes
or perhaps kites
and so i need some strings
some bamboo sticks
for bones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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