i am you, you me,
we are one prism defined
by our hands, molded
haiku by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
I could compare my music to white light which contains all colours. Only a prism can divide the colours and make them appear; this prism could be the spirit of the listener.
For Sympathy
since you married her
not for love but for sympathy
the gods agree
on some consequences
she will stare at you
and she will be nothing but
a ray of white light
you become the prism
to filter her soul
against the sun
your sympathy
shall spread her into
the many colors of
her griefs
soon she will say
that in the prism
where her soul passes through
there was no joy
there was no bliss
there was only this
little piece of happy moments
this pretense
not meant to last
her lifetime in the mask of darkness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crazy Clay
Is it sweet destiny that I am in your hands?
Molded to your desire on bracing fire
I wake up to lazy, latent earth trysts
As your potent fingers tease me to life
I arouse to a man's enigma, sensuous as earth
Revel in caresses that melt my brown life
Thrill to heady moments riding high
As passion waltzes her way between us
Does your woman know you in this obsessive state?
In this intimacy that riots through you and me
Perfecting union in those feverish hours
Creation at her sultry, rapturous best…
I am earth and clay most of my life
Sired by Gaia when the gods were playing
You were molded from me and breathed alive
Destiny turns a full circle now, I smile…
poem by Bindu Vijayan
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Molded Goals
Give me my right to have a life of variety.
With a choice I decide in my mind,
Who and what I will be as I define.
People live to breathe in sequels.
And leeching to squeeze,
From an opportunistic vision.
But too afraid to plant their own footsteps,
If others are not pleased.
People are not free,
Or encouraged to be themselves.
And directed from their births,
To seek acceptance...
From others who have molded goals,
And know what is perfectness.
Give me my right to have a life of variety.
With a choice I decide in my mind,
Who and what I will be as I define.
People are not free,
Or encouraged to be themselves.
And directed from their births,
To seek acceptance...
From others who have molded goals,
And know what is perfectness.
Molded goals grow old to corrode.
And find a staleness solid...
Rusted with rot and dropped forgotten.
People live and breathe in sequels.
Too afraid to make fresh steps.
People live to please other people,
And get upset when nothing is correct!
Molded goals.
Molded goals.
Rusted with rot,
And soon dropped forgotten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Demands of the cycle
Your children are your copy
But, mind, you are your parents’.
You have molded your children
And your parents have molded you.
You take care of your parents
For your children to copy it.
What you do to your children
Aren’t a sacrifice but debts
As demanded by the life cycle.
12.11.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Childlike Hands
your head upturned,
like a baby bird...
sunlight in the rain,
turning colors o'er
the prism mountains...
hungry for life,
to fill the empty
that you cannot name...
naked, unashamed,
you wipe the wrinkles
with childlike hands!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Neither 'Dope' Nor 'Sick
Too much of today's nonsense,
I carried on my heart and this had to be confronted.
It had to stop from where it started.
Although many 'ifs' I had a lot!
And those big lip kids on my block...
You know the ones,
That taunt their parents, the elders AND the cops...
Would look at me when I spoke to them.
As if I was a fossil that had rotted!
'Drop poppa.
He too old.
The words he say are molded.
Drop poppa from the mix.
He's neither 'dope' nor 'sick'.
Drop poppa.
He too old.
The words he say are from a tired soul...
And he molded.
Drop poppa from the mix.
He's neither 'dope' nor 'sick'.
Ignore that old man quick! '
I remember when dope made one loopy.
And sick meant ill.
Today these kids say 'dope' to mean 'hip'.
And being 'sick' to them puts things,
On the top of their list.
To agitate...
That's all that is!
'Drop poppa.
He too old.
The words he say are molded.
Drop poppa from the mix.
He's neither 'dope' nor 'sick'.
Drop poppa.
He too old.
The words he say are from a tired soul...
And he molded.
Drop poppa from the mix.
He's neither 'dope' nor 'sick'.
Ignore that old man quick! '
And today,
One either ages gracefully...
Or become so crazed,
Their days ar spent being fed in cages.
Or in some locked up room to gloom.
Drop poppa?
Oh it's okay if I am kicked to the curb.
Drop poppa?
Oh it's okay if I am ignored,
And left with a peace of mind I deserve.
~That's the point of wanting you all away from me.
And pull up those pants.
You look as if you're in need of a diaper change! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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However, the sovereignty of the states is constitutionally defined and recognized, while the powers of the local government in Puerto Rico are defined by, and subject to alteration under, federal statutory law.
quote by Dick Thornburgh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the first flint, the first shell, was shaped into a weapon, that action shaped man. As he molded and complicated his tools, so they molded and complicated him. He became the first scientific animal. And at last, via information theory and great computers, he gained knowledge of all his parts. He formed the Laws of Integration, which reveal all beings as part of a pattern and show them their part in the attern. There is only the pattern; the pattern is all the universe, creator and created.
quote by Brian Aldiss
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When It Sings
All the words you say to me
Have music in them
All the sorrows and the joys like magnetism
And a selfish boy looks through a prism
And says what is
But never asks what isn't
But a voice contains many precious things
It laughs
And then it sings
And all the lies that we can tell
To our foolish selves
Maybe this is the love song that I refused to
Write her when I loved her like I used to
And I fear my heart may spin and fracture
Like tears of stone falling from a statue
But a voice contains all that's true and false
Then cries for someone else
And for some honest tenderness
So I must confess
All the words you say to me
Have music in them
All the sorrows and the joys like magnetism
And a selfish boy looks through a prism
And says what is
But never asks what isn't
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Successful men are defined by thier actions;
Unsuccessful men are defined by actions not taken.
Tao (Social Activism)
the Tao of social activism,
found in the newborn baby's cry.
in the hands that plow the earth,
that build, shape, and mold.
in the colors of the prism,
dividing light stream by stream.
in the raw and beating heart,
and the red blood pulsing.
in the day that follows darkness
without thought or plan.
in the breath inhaled and exhaled,
in the hand that fits in mine!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Scrutiny
It spurs the hope
in absent voice for a deaf ear.
You will wash the ancestor’s prism
for a natural death of a fault.
Through me I skim the frozen
lake of tears.
Maybe I will watch the tree
for some sanity to produce
the blossoms -
in the starved faith of a
wanderer who will not speak
for himself.
All life he was trying to explain
without words,
the enormous efforts he was
putting to lay down his hands
on truth.
poem by Satish Verma
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Fiery Lover
I watch a candle burns
Its fire was quietly molded
And the wind was the artist.
The fire forms into a rose
I touch the candle’s fire
I felt the fire pushes me away
Contrary from what it shows
Its looks deceives me, totally
The wind blew the candle
The fire struggle to stay
The wind pushes it away
Its beauty vanishes instantly
If only it was not hot
It would be in my hands
I would have mold
A beauty impossible to hold
It had trusted the wind
Only wind was able to touch
I was forbidden to hold
All I can do is to watch
If only it had trusted me
It would be a different story
I had offered my hands
Though I know it’ll be burned
My hand’s not soft as a wind
It’s not as tender at it seems
But at least my hands
Are connected to a heart
poem by John Anthony Maligro
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In relativity, movement is continuous, causally determinate and well defined, while in quantum mechanics it is discontinuous, not causally determinate and not well defined.
quote by David Bohm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Body Of A Soul
with hands of fire,
and feet of clay,
forming worlds from
insignificant thoughts....
taking moments peeled
from a glance by chance...
forming stars from dust
that come raining down,
echoing in the empty....
for what is not oft is,
each and all have purpose...
when what cant be seen,
cant be held or defined...
given by the spirit that waits
and calls us to our selves;
and that which is finished
begins anew and afresh,
when our journey takes us home!
when hands of fire and feet of clay
inhabits the body of a soul!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I shall refract myself, yes, I shall no longer be known as the prism.
quote by Bruce Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When we describe what the other person is really like, I suppose we often picture what we want. We look through the prism of our need.
quote by Ellen Goodman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Love That I Found Defined In Me
The love that I found defined in me.
Reduced all the fantasies,
I kept deceived.
When I saw you,
That moment I knew...
Mixed reactions disappeared.
I felt a deepness clearing and near,
Flowing to bestow...
Upon me.
The love that I found defined in me.
Removed all desires to be free.
You held the key,
To unlock that need in me...
That kept my secret beliefs,
No one could be there to release..
This in me.
The love that I found defined in me.
Needed no one else to complete.
You had the magic.
Fantastic,
Indeed!
And in me...
What it was you had,
Fixed a piece of mystery...
That teased!
And freed a gladness.
The love that I found defined in me.
Reduced all the fantasies,
I kept deceived.
When I saw you,
That moment I knew...
Mixed reactions disappeared.
I felt a deepness clearing and near.
To forever be here with me,
To grow.
And know together love!
The love that I found defined in me.
Needed no one else to complete.
You had the magic.
Fantastic,
Indeed!
And in me...
What it was you had,
Fixed a piece of mystery...
That rid from me the sadness.
And you held the key,
To unlock that need in me!
The love that I found defined in me.
Reduced all the fantasies,
I kept deceived.
When I saw you,
That moment I knew...
Mixed reactions disappeared.
I felt a deepness clearing and near.
To forever be here with me,
Growing to know this love!
Growing to show...
We know,
This is love!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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