Clear Conscience
Bodily exercise,
Accaptance,
Thesethings i write to you will come to you shortly;
And like old wives' fables,
But delivered by the words of your mouth.
Stay pure until i come,
And be faithful in all things!
For, i come with my clear conscience to guide you on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Faithful
Faithful to the end
She's a lover and a friend
Faithful to the end
And with this i know you can win, just stay faithful
Faithful till the end
Faithful to the end
Listen ya'll she's a mother and a wife, she is everything, faithful
Faithful to the end
Even when things go wrong and you got nobody else to call
You call on good ol' faithful
Faithful to the end
Cause i know you gotta stay faithful
Faithful to the end
She's the one that will cook and clean, wash your clothes
So you always gotta stay faithful
Faithful to the end
Ya'll just take it on home, i can't even sing no more
Faithful to the end
Yeah, i like that
song performed by by Faith Evans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspiration..
Inspiration comes and goes.
I write it down or I’ll forget while searching for a pen.
Inspiration comes and goes.
I get is from dreams or experiences.
Inspiration comes and goes.
But tell me, what inspires you.
I’m inspired by beauty, love and lust.
Giving me words and thought I dare to trust.
It’s inspiration that separates me from the rest.
‘Cause when inspiration comes words fall into place.
And things are beginning to make sense.
Sometimes I’m inspired by sorrow.
When I’m waiting in my bed for tomorrow.
And words start to become sentences.
I will start to write just to understand.
And to make me feel better so I can go to bed again.
Sometimes I write because of a pain that runs so deep.
I write cryptic lyrics about the secrets I keep.
I express them in other words so no one will understand.
But they feel not knowing what I’m trying to tell.
It’s a just way to clear my conscience.
Sometimes I write how the world could be.
Or I write about the girl of my fantasy.
Then I’m inspired by a fragment of my imagination.
And now I told a few ways where I get my inspiration.
So now tell me what inspires you.
poem by Rick Adriolo
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Fables
Old wives's fables,
Be an example to others;
Gossips and busybodies,
Talking about things that they should not;
You shall not muzzle the ox that treads out the grain.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conscience –
The ‘Inner Voice’ in-built by God,
In every human being born,
That tells what’s wrong and what is right,
And helps in moral decisions!
The laws of lands may change a lot;
The guidelines may be different;
The ethics too metamorphose;
But Conscience keeps the truth standard!
The modern man has ‘conscience rot’!
His faith in science has grown mammoth;
He thinks all things are human made –
Believing in mere human strength!
The world cannot ignore conscience;
No man can do much, without God;
If laws are made for human rights,
They shan’t be anti-God /Nature!
Man better heed to conscience first;
All things he does will turn out fine;
Ethical dilemmas vanish,
And soul of man will stay most pure!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-21-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ill Be Faithful
(ned albright / mike soles / steve soles)
I would be your water when your thirsty mouth was dry
I would be your sunshine when clouds are in the sky
I would stand that close beside you
And be your only friend
And I have promised love forever
There will be no end
Ooh, hoo, Ill be faithful
Ooh, hoo, Ill be true, too
Ooh, hoo, Ill be faithful, yes I will now
Ooh, hoo, oh my, true to you
Now I would be your music if you would like a song
I would sleep beside you when the winters cold and long
I would be the pole to guide you, never would I bend
And I have promised love forever
There will be no end
Ooh, hoo, Ill be faithful, oh, yeah
Ooh, hoo, Ill be true too, mmm
Ooh, hoo, Ill be faithful, oh, yeah
Ooh, hoo, oh my, true to you, ooh, hoo
I have promised love forever
There will be no end
Ooh, hoo, Ill be faithful, oh, yeah
Ooh, hoo, Ill be true, too
Ooh, hoo, Ill be faithful, yes I will
Ooh, hoo, oh my, true to you
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith, Reason, and Memory
Where faith serves
as faithful guide
And truth becomes
the path to ride
Reason, the compass
To give direction
The mind a map
To which we must subscribe
Memory, apportioned
To mere reflection
Conscience a cape
Neath which to hide
Faith will guide…
truth will be the way
Reason will the direction lay
Memory will give mind, today
And mirror's light
Remind us bright
The path on which
To stay
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scribbles Transcribed
Some write for glory and for fame.
I write because I am obsessed
and wordplay is my favourite game.
I concentrate on poetry
Because I find it to my taste
and pass my time creatively.
I could not sit and watch T.V
and live my life vicariously.
That would drive me to insanity.
I have a wide vocabulary
which I love to exercise
Harmless but it amuses me.
What better way to pass the time
than writing formal poetry
I do not find it hard to rhyme
I’ll never be a household name
Which does not bother me at all.
I write for fun and not for fame.
My writing will not make me rich
I very rarely publish it
I merely write to scratch my itch.
My pad and pen accompany me
No matter where I choose to go
Though I scribble illegibly.
Record what takes my interest
and jot down anything I see.
When I get home I do my best.
To read the jottings I have made
which is sometimes difficult
as pencilled words tend to fade.
I find that if I persevere
for long enough I understand
enough to make it very clear.
I sometimes wish that I could write
In a clear and cursive script
If I had perhaps I might.
But I am too impatient to write
All of down the things I want to
My scribbling will have to do.
Thank God for printers and P.Cs
So when I post its legible
and you can read my verse with ease.
The feed back which you give to me.
I read with greatest interest.
And it improves my poetry.
My hand writing will never be
capable of being read
by anybody else but me..
(18-Jun-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marriage Supper
To the man and his wives,
To the woman and her husband,
A white horse of words to lead the way;
But faithful and truth to the world so sweet.
Of the bridegroom and the bride,
Of the flame of fire to lead the way;
But the marriage supper is of the Lamb of love.
Life is like a man sold for his theft,
And do not practice astrology on this issue;
For the marriage supper is ready for you and i.
Of the first and the last,
And a shickle to the home of love;
But try to set set the mother bird free after catching the young.
The marriage supper,
Do not be ruled by your wives!
And do not set a stranger as your King;
For the taste of your many wives may lead you to many problems.
Of a black horse,
But its rider is dishonest and a lair;
And in the great River Euphrates,
I will be ready for your love at this supper.
Clouds of white doves,
Wings of pure love,
Like the doors of heaven!
For i have now seen the glory of the Creator.
At the marriage supper,
The harpers harping with their harps;
With others arrayed in white robes.
Of hands lifted towards heaven at this feast,
Give the little Book to read a line to all;
And at the table of the farmers like,
The farmers farming on their farms.
Of a reed like a measuring rod and,
According to their works on this day;
But honest weights nad measures are needed at the feast.
Of the spirit of life and the sweet of honey,
Like the money paid for this marriage;
But be part of the first resurrection to gain wisdom,
For the marriage supper is for you and i to attend.
Chosen virgins free of bonds,
Wrapped in the tallit of a man to guide you all;
And of the malak standing in the sun to watch us from above,
This marriage supper is for us all to attend.
Rain, grain, train, brain, drain;
Small and great to attend this mariage supper,
But my mind will always write to teach many.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Versatilty
I think that I can claim to be
a poet who is versatile.
I try to write my poetry
in varied form and varied style.
I emulate and imitate
styles of great poets of the past.
To show that I appreciate
poets that time has over cast.
Although long dead their words live on.
A source of inspiration to
poets today.Though they’re long gone
and I give credit where its due.
Although some things I write are new
I cannot trace their origin.
I trust my muse as poets do.
She prods me until I begin.
She tells me there is no such thing
as writers block there cannot be.
A poor excuse for not writing
I’m not allowed to be lazy
That’s something she won’t tolerate
and drags me from my bed to write.
Though I protest the hour is late.
She is insistent that I write.
If she should choose to stay away
I’d seize the opportunity
to simple have a lazy day
Without my conscience pricking me.
11-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clear My Mind
I'm pushing too much pressure on me
I'm so tired because I'm doing so much
I just want it to go away
Clear my mind
Of all things that are negative
Try not to do so much
Focus on important things
Other things can wait
I need to have fun
Enjoy life out there
I can work hard and have great time
Clear my mind
That has bad impact on me and makes me shatter
I need to run and listen to music
Clear my mind
I hate feeling stress out and exhaustion
I'm eating right and try to get exercise
I'm going dropp off things I don't really need to do
I want to feel happy and alive
I want to have energy and have good time
Like I used to in my life
I need a break from everything I do
Once in a while to let it all
This is too much to handle
My head is hurting so much
I just want to scream
I want to
Clear my mind
poem by Christina Phan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Friend and My Guide
Companion, friend and a guide
Be my friend and a guide
In my troubles guide me
Through the troubled times hold my hand tightly
By saying to me that things are going to be okay.
I would like it so much if you would forever love me by being a friend
We are honest that our bond is pure and true
Friendship it is, which I want forever to be
My friend and my guide, you are.
poem by Rohit Sapra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Stories Of This World
The stories of this world,
A fool becomes rich;
The hate of this world,
A wise man is killed;
An allegory,
And like the elements of this world.
The hidden things of honesty and dishonesty,
But are they writers? !
So am i also;
For the stories of this world are too many to write about.
Are they artists?
So am i;
Are they Core-Maths teachers?
So am i;
Are they philosophers?
So am i;
Are they travellers?
So am i;
Are they poets?
So am i;
Are they innovators?
So am i;
Are they saints?
So am i;
And like a veil taken away,
With gritted teeth in range.
Endless genealogies,
Out of envy with fable minds;
And like old wives' fables and the old men in town,
But a light shone in the prison room.
The stories of this world are too many to write about,
With empty schemes and the reward of iniquity;
But i need seven men of honest reputation,
And like my life in the cave of love.
Light out of darkness and hope out of sadness,
Try to dream big always!
For this world is engraved in letters on stones,
And i am as you are over there.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clear
If I dont take you seriously
If I can laugh at your randomness
If I can have a little fun baby
If I can only feel my bliss
If I can ignore my conscience
And reject my angry guide
If I can take my soul out of hiding
And get it right back
To reviving what had died
I wanna be alive so alive
If I can love you without hating you
If I can accept your lack of guilt
If I can walk across the skinny wire
If I can make my conscience tilt
If I can lose myself for once
If I can regain my youth
Im so sick and tired of lying
Gonna dig down to the truth
I found my independence here
I finally let go of my fear
My mind is finally finally clear clear clear
Whoever said we had to be crazy glued
To our personalities
I wanna jump on the bed and hit the ceiling
Any symbol of being free
Last night you laughed so hard
I could see your shining bliss
Dont wanna live another day
Without knowing how you kiss
I found my independence here
I finally let go of my fear
My mind is finally finally clear clear clear
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0208 If poets had a tail to wag
As your beloved, faithful dog
returns to his dear master's hearth
after burying deep some promising fine bone
as hostage to the future,
and with the long-lunged sigh
of those who know they could not have done better,
lays him on the hearth (with nose too near the falling coal)
to pass the sleep of a blissful clear conscience
broken only by the twitchy dream of chasing rabbits
(and like humans, does he never quite catch them before he wakes?
we'll never know...)
so the poet closes the notebook, switches off the PC,
and with the clear conscience of one
who knows that his poetry may not be all that good -
but that he couldn't have done better -
retires to bed, satisfied, content.
If bliss is then the emptied mind
the Muse of Poetry is kind.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sad Words
Some forty odd years ago
when I first started to write
the words that came out
were always sad words.
Repressed feelings of my own,
who can ever tell?
Then the words became lighter and happier
when love came to me.
Now they have gone full circle
and sadness is all I seem to write.
The lighter and happier words have vanished
like a candle light extinguished in the night.
The sad words have travelled full circle
coming back to me
filling my pen with sorrow and tears
the way it used to be.
Love is still with me,
so I question what I write,
wondering if that candle
will ever be lit again at night
to guide back the happier words,
banishing the sad words forever out of sight.
28 March 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours
Like a fool I went and stayed too long
Now I'm wondering if your love's still strong
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours
Then that time I went and said goodbye
Now I'm back and not ashamed to cry
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours
Here I am baby
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby,
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours)
I've done alot of foolish things
That I really didn't mean
Hey, hey, yea, yea, didn't i, oh baby
Seen alot of things in this old world
When I touched them they did nothing, girl
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours, oh I'm yours
Oo-wee babe you set my soul on fire
That's why I know you are my only desire
Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours
Here I am baby
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby,
Oh, you've got the future in your hand
(signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours)
I've done alot of foolish things
That I really didn't mean
I could be a broken man but here I am
With your future, got your future babe (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby, (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
Here I am baby, (here I am baby)
Here I am baby (signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I guarantee
My words are not here
To mislead you.
See, it is clear
And visible.
My words are clear
Like Harishankar falling water
Like Gangotri pure water.
My words are pious.
Confidence be taken in to
And I guaranteed
You would not wander.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rejected Soul
Our community is a rejected soul
Mothers have hearts with holes
if they don't bury their off springs in latrine halls
in the stomach they murder them as wholes
Now it is a journey with potholes...
Thus, we think conscience is so tall
that's why, we've chosen to fall!
i see our society as a living sole
Each individual with his own wall
the weak have got no angel to call
and the vagabond, no warmth at all
The poor with no faithful pal
and the crippled without a ball
Truth has been taken to shopping malls
kept in the drawers for the moles
Faithful wives compete with whores
for the fathers who line at the street poles
politics, has turned to a busy stall
where lies are on fire like burning coals
and hence our community is gone
poem by Timothy muggaga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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