My Conceptions
my conceptions,
a small cardboard box
jammed with reality
till it bursts, and spills over...
open minded?
how could a grain of dust
blowing through infinity
be any other way?
how can a candle
pretend to be a star?
how can the sound
inside the shell call itself
a wave?
how can a blind man
paint the sunset?
my conceptions,
...just a nuisance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dream Of A Laughing God!
conceptions...
all too often wrapped
in packages of 'me'!
yes, i was there
when the universe
was created!
yet i was only dust,
released from creation's
hand... only darkness,
cut into logs
and burned for light!
only the echo of the sound,
the dream of
a laughing God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All censorships exist to prevent any one from challenging current conceptions and existing institutions. All progress is initiated by challenging current conceptions, and executed by supplanting existing institutions. Consequently the first condition of progress is the removal of censorships.
quote by George Bernard Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small To Big!
small hands, trust...
big hands, afraid,
clenched to fists...
small eyes, see...
big eyes, blinded,
confined to conceptions...
small hearts, love...
big hearts, possess,
clipping the wings
of their own dreams!
small to big, return to small
finding our way home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poetic Conceptions
a 'necessary' stage
no just a small window
of opportunity to get
a mass of poems
a body of work write
poetic conceptions
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Stasis Conceptions Time Warped
stasis traditional conceptions
defining reality boundaries
sling shots
through the looking glass utilized
time melts
elastic in worm hole possibilities
every dreams
imagination potential already realized
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The historian must have some conceptions of how men who are not historians behave.
quote by E.M. Forster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetic Conceptions Time Constraint
a 'necessary' stage
no just a small window
of opportunity to get
a mass of poems
a body of work
poetic conceptions
written out
still rarely
do the best
it takes
more time
doodles
can be fast
efficient
time constraint
utilization
creation
real ization
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Bother
Clough
Hastily Adam our driver swallowed a curse in the darkness--
Petrol nigh at end and something wrong with a sprocket
Made him speer for the nearest town, when lo! at the crossways
Four blank letterless arms the virginal signpost extended.
"Look!" thundered Hugh the Radical. "This is the England we
boast of--
Bland, white-bellied, obese, but utterly useless for business.
They are repainting the signs and have left the job in the middle.
They are repainting the signs and traffic may stop till they've
done it,
Which is to say: till the son-of-a-gun of a local contractor,
Having laboriously wiped out every name for
Probably thirty miles round, be minded to finish his labour!
Had not the fool the sense to paint out and paint in together?"
Thus, not seeing his speech belied his Radical Gospel
(Which is to paint out the earth and then write "Damn" on the
shutter),
Hugh embroidered the theme imperially and stretched it
From some borough in Wales through our Australian possessions,
Making himself, reformer-wise, a bit of a nuisance
Till, with the help of Adam, we cast him out on the landscape.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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I love you for what you seem.
Dear, can you be what you seam, inside your shell?
I fear, you may not show how you are inside.
Dear, can you admit me to peep inside your shell?
I fear, you may not expose the secret inside.
As long as you are not open with your shell inside
Why should I bother to know what is there in the Hell?
And why not what you seem outside alone can enthrall?
I love you for what you seem and not for what are inside.
I shall be concerned with your pericarp, content in full.
You can keep your endosperm to yourself opaque.
30.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Infinity
turn what your brain
inside out
and it will fill
a space
large as the universe
- plenty of of planets, stars
you know as well
as many you dont know
- the way you are puzzled
over infinity
the joy to learn that
that this infinity outside
- each planet, star, meteor -
wait to be given names
by this infinity - boxed -
in this little head!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Unimaginative people are spared quite a lot. They're often much happier, because they don't go through all the variety of conceptions of the person they love.
quote by Mary Wesley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning To Nothing
there is a light within us
we do not keep it inside for soon
it shall burn us alive and so
we keep ourselves open to
the blue skies and to the
full moon at night so they
all can see us flicker like
a star glowing in the darkness
of our longings we keep this
light burning and burning
night and day till we are
all consumed till we are all
gone like a candle burning
itself to nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sunset Redness
In the sunset redness
When the twilight
With its red color
The color of blood and red roses
The rustic color where romance of years
Has receded in rust
Of the old mans hedge
Or balcony
Or the love of a fighter
When he suddenly discovers
That his long cherished gun
Has gone rustic
Or that small dog
When we watched his movie
Years ago
And the laughter in our small lounge
The sweet memories of the past
And the sunset redness
When it gathers itself from the face of earth
And then in the form of a ball
Rolls itself down the sea
The most beautiful sunset of the earth
Like a huge red drop
Or in desert
The sunset
Going down into the dust
The dark blue night
To cover it
Where were you
Where was the strength of your memory
Why I did not catch wings
To bring you closer to me
Why I did not realize
That this moment today
Will die for ever
Except in my memories
On those dusty roads and clean beaches
In my amazement
And as I was lost
Why you did not call me
Tell me
Why you did not call me
Through the air
And your eyes
Having fixed on me
Why did not I hear your whispers
Why did not you tell me
That this moment is so precious
That sunset redness
In the sea and the desert
This time
Remember
Call me and call me again
For these beauties on earth
These beauties
And ones like you
Torment me
And then haunt me in my dreams
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Thoughts Mind Soul Echoes
thoughts like children
scatter from our mind
thoughts were part of us?
thoughts came from us?
thoughts live beyond us?
thoughts outlive our lives?
thoughts mind soul echoes
haunting fragments of mind
light shines through prisms
separates into colour bands
thought trails sunset colours
spectrum ribbons thoughts
spiral into keen conceptions
meaning insight discriminates
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Journey
Anghiari is medieval, a sleeve sloping down
A steep hill, suddenly sweeping out
To the edge of a cliff, and dwindling.
But far up the mountain, behind the town,
We too were swept out, out by the wind,
Alone with the Tuscan grass.
Wind had been blowing across the hills
For days, and everything now was graying gold
With dust, everything we saw, even
Some small children scampering along a road,
Twittering Italian to a small caged bird.
We sat beside them to rest in some brushwood,
And I leaned down to rinse the dust from my face.
I found the spider web there, whose hinges
Reeled heavily and crazily with the dust,
Whole mounds and cemeteries of it, sagging
And scattering shadows among shells and wings.
And then she stepped into the center of air
Slender and fastidious, the golden hair
Of daylight along her shoulders, she poised there,
While ruins crumbled on every side of her.
Free of the dust, as though a moment before
She had stepped inside the earth, to bathe herself.
I gazed, close to her, till at last she stepped
Away in her own good time.
Many men
Have searched all over Tuscany and never found
What I found there, the heart of the light
Itself shelled and leaved, balancing
On filaments themselves falling. The secret
Of this journey is to let the wind
Blow its dust all over your body,
To let it go on blowing, to step lightly, lightly
All the way through your ruins, and not to lose
Any sleep over the dead, who surely
Will bury their own, don't worry.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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Voices Of Infinity
i dance with animals in the night,
run naked with trees,
and drink strong moonlight.
i sing with the rocks,
and crow with the dawn....
i beat the drum primeval!
i rush with the waves
to strip the shores,
of all vestiges of passing.
i howl with the wind,
i dance with shadows and sounds,
and lay naked on the cool earth.
i am the ache inside the shell,
the hand that sprinkles dust...
come walk with me,
let us taste the very darkness,
let us call for the light
with the voices of infinity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Infinity
Standin' on a trap door, there's a hole in the ground.
Underneath the door there's a hole and it goes to infinity.
Standin' on a dark street, there's a light in the sky.
Followin' the light through the night as it goes to infinity.
How can I avoid infinity? How have I annoyed infinity?
I'm movin' slow in infinity. I even glow in infinity.
Chorus:
It's hard being' small, (hard bein' small)
Shrinkin' into space, (shrinkin' into space)
The world is just a ball, (world is just a ball)
It was my fav'rite place (it was my fav'rite place)
Lookin' for the blue skies, watchin' for the sunrise.
One thing you can bet, you won't see it set in infinity.
Gonna take a light beam, on the wings of the Jet Stream.
Gonna take my place in the infinite space of infinity.
How can I be friends with infinity? Can I make ammends with infinity?
How can I complain to infinity? What'll I explain to infinity?
(Chorus)
Give me just a time shield before the world has it's fate sealed.
Protect me for a while before they turn my dial to infinity.
I hope I can contribute, oh, but I don't want a tribute.
Hypocrites will come and say somethin' really dumb in infinity.
I can't hear you sing in infinity. I can't change a thing in infinity.
The absence of light in infinity gives me a fright in infinity.
(Chorus)
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Atheist Intensity Attacks
I belong
to that decreasing
western minority
which actually
believes in God
deep convictions
but you must
make your own
decisions of belief
I have no desire
nor right to change
any of your thoughts
God gave you
life intelligence plus
individual free choice
what surprises however
is atheist intensity attacks
upon their conceptions
religions are fairy tales
if fairy tales in reality
why intensity of attacks?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Waited For Her
actually, this is the story of my marriage
i have chosen not to hurt and so
i pretend not to like to close the door
and shut myself away from everything
that bears every scent of her
the air outside
the dust inside
i waited for her to feel the core of the story
for her to internalize
who i was and what i have become
i left my shoes so she may finally wear them
and there by chance, it was her who shut the door on me
i pretended to weep and she hears the knocks to let me in
but honestly, i was thinking of something else
the blue sea the sunset at the beach
the small cottage and this beautiful shadow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An atmosphere of beliefs and conceptions has been formed by the labours and struggles of our forefathers, which enables us to breathe amid the various and complex circumstances of our life.
quote by William Kingdon Clifford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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