Countless Waiting Gems
My fingers move across the empty page.
Its shining smoothness pure and newly felt.
But not one word on it has yet been spelt,
All inspiration hides within a cage.
And sadly there’s no key, to set it free.
Ideas come and then ideas go,
No single letter, up to now’s been writ.
Perhaps one’s trying too hard, just a bit.
I’ll ease up for a while, and take it slow.
Let my tired mind believe that I’ll achieve.
Ink within my pen has suddenly dried,
So has my font of countless waiting gems.
Nothing is left now in my old brainstems.
I think my mind is on a downward slide.
Could this then be my age, my final stage.
No it is just a bleep, all will be well,
My mind will open up and will receive,
New thoughts that form and I will then retrieve,
All the information, clear as a bell.
For as knowledge can grow, my pen will flow.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
Writer's block
Have you ever felt
the need to write
Tho’ your fingers are leaden
And your brain won’t go
Have you ever concentrated
with all your might
When your mind feels deadened
And your creativity won’t flow
Have you ever felt
You’ve got no more to say
No more ideas
Buried deep in your mind
Well that’s the way I feel
And I know it’s not right
But I just can’t think of a single thing
….To write about tonight
poem by David Whalen
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Thoughts and ideas - (Talking through my hat)
Break and husk
thoughts and ideas that,
without reason,
I smashing them like nuts
into my head – mortar with pig iron pestle.
Lay and hatch
thoughts and ideas,
and younglings,
instead of fly,
I keep them under latch
in my head – cage of neurons,
dendrites and axons.
Knead and raise
thoughts and ideas
but let me tempted,
and without reason,
instead of bake them, I play
“of thieves and bobbies”
with bullets of dough
shot from my head – automatic gun.
Pull kernels out of
thoughts and ideas
but I put not them to spring
and hundredfold harvest to bring,
I chain them necklace
that my poor mind
who walks nomad
through my head – ballad
to put it neck
in a night with moon
and than to catch
in a fairies dance
and hungry of blue
to soar in the stars.
***
Thoughts and ideas
are shrieking through my mind
as lost migratory birds
in an autumn of rains.
Thoughts and ideas
- arrow-shaped cranes with wet wings -
fall all at once
in my head – moorland
of thistle and mud.
Bevies of ideas
and useless thoughts
surround my mind
how ravens give wheel
carrions to be
through my head - waste land
by boiling and winds.
Thoughts and ideas
go round
like a pack of wolves
with empty bellies
through my head – winter of frost,
winter of sleet
with my mind
thoroughly frozen
by fright and a biting wind.
Pick
bunches of thoughts and ideas
caressed by the sun of mind
in bacchanal vineyards
planted on encephalic hills.
I squish them
and expect to get wine
and get drunk
in my head – tavern where the smoke
knife just cut it
and air is sourbitter.
Fog of thoughts and ideas
rises from my mind
as darkness on swamps
in late autumn.
Nothing to see
not hear anything
all still is,
just the small brain
flickers in my head – gray curtain
between movement and inertia.
Slacked thoughts and ideas
are resting on benches of mind,
nothing pulling them
with hands and teeth,
I can’t them gather
at work to bring
to get something good
from my head – chaos
where it lacks a poleax
and a stump of elm.
poem by Viorel Petru Trifan
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Nourishing My Mind
I've learnt what's required, and now I'm bored:
My mind feels the need to learn something more.
To learn new things, my heart is now yearning;
I need to keep my mind's cogwheels turning.
The information I've learnt, I need to revise;
To move on and forget it, wouldn't be wise.
For learning, I've suddenly discovered a taste;
What I've learnt so far, will not go to waste.
In learning, as a child, I possessed less interest,
But now, I'm a lot older, I am trying my best.
As an adult, I'm finding I really love to learn:
The flame, within my soul, has started to burn.
What I've learnt so far, just doesn't seem enough;
I feel ready to learn a whole lot more new stuff.
Nourishment for my mind, is what I'm needing,
So, now each and every day, more I am reading.
I need more information to help me fill the hole;
I need more information, to help achieve my goal.
With studying, I have become somewhat obsessed,
But I need to be prepared, so as I can pass the test.
I hope that all this new knowledge that I require,
Will give me the confidence to rise a little higher.
To broaden my mind, I suddenly feel really keen;
Maybe, one day, I will achieve all of my dreams.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Dreams
Dreams come in any shape or form
With a positive or negative outcome
You got to believe
In the ideas you conceive
Dreams come and go
Let your thoughts flow
You got to believe
In the ideas you conceive
Dreams can suddenly explode
From novice to advanced mode
Dreams can be boring or be fun
To be real they all need to be worked on
You got to believe
And live with the ideas you conceive
You got to believe
If you give you will eventually receive
Dreams are special
Dreams are emotional
But many a dream
Is only attained as a team
(2007)
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Past, Present and Future
Preamble:
Thoughts and ideas like those of a sage
(or are they memories of a bygone age?)
flash in my mind now and set the stage
of what there soon again may likely be
when for a while here we become free
and without any clouds the horizon see.
----------
The past is always there to look back and reflect upon
not to live in as a prisoner that seeks no escape from.
The present is the current moment where we are now
always looking for a direction which to go somehow.
The future is what we can all really make it out to be
if in our mind we're strong and clear in what we see.
**************************
poem by George Krokos
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Thinking
I think and think
and every single thought
comes into my mind
as if it were caught
in a spidery web
that sticks like glue
until that thought
is finally through.
Some thoughts are happy
and they are most welcome.
Some thoughts are sad
and then I'm overrun
with tears that fill my eyes
like a pool.
I cry out these thoughts,
my number one rule.
For to hold back my tears
and not let them flow
would drown my thinking
and where would they go?
Into a whirlpool
that circles around
making my demeanor
take me down?
No, I say.
Pick up your pen.
Write those thoughts
and say amen.
Read them aloud
for they're now on a page,
not trapped in my mind
like a bird in a cage.
Freedom, freedom
my mind is free.
Oh how rewarding
that can be.
Enjoy it I say
for it won't last long
for I think and I think
as my life moves along.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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1. One
I am trying to find my poetic rhythm.
Pen my flow of thoughts.
Words running through my mind,
Ideas running through my mind.
Incoherent, Scattered and disjointed
I am trying to make words and ideas one
Create a world of words, in this world of chaos
Words running from one end
Ideas running from one end
On a path of collision
Ideas and words unite, one
One, the beginning
One, the universal beginning
One, the number of the gods
One, my first poem
poem by Anand Dixit
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Author's Inspiration
My fingers do not type the words on the page; they do not draw delusions on a thin piece of white lined paper. They are not meant for the works of art to be used and unworthy for. My fingers are worthy enough to paint pictures inside your cognizance, more than painting a paintless sheet that means nothing to me. My fingers work as if every picture I paint in my mind, inspires them to write the unwritten page, to make it a master piece. But not every inspiration inside my mind, will take merely a second to create. It takes time, patience, and art to smear the writings onto a page. Author inspiration is from what comes from the heart; deep and dark, inspring and light - it's as if it was left inside its cage. No freedom, no light, no darkness, no being of a creature that the render of the paper, simply gave up on inspiring the little ones'. It's as if this mere creature was left within a white blank world. No colors to paint, no words to express. An author inspiration is formed when they see or hear other works of art, whether it's music to their ears, movies they wish to be in, life and feelings that they feel or positioned in, or other writings that they write something else about - but as an inspiration from them. An inspiration can be from anything from the outside world, from what happens inside one's life, to what creates such imagination within one's thoughts that coats the page with color and creativity. Anyone can be talented. Anyone can have an inspiration. You just have to feel and be it.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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Alphabet Spaces
In my mind rambles
ideas which seek to unscramble
and grant me crystal clear consistency
but the more I try to wrangle
ideas about Physics and Religion
the more they metamorphosize
into same and similar.
The more I learn about anything
the less I know about the whole
of any and all disciplines;
so I succumb to debates about
T's and I's
while forgetting my alphabet.
For example, if I take my own name
and examine it minutely,
space and letter
nano-space by nano-space
I cannot ever
see a whole word or letter.
Therefore, I come away nameless and confused.
So if I wish to learn the whole
of any disciple or subject-area
I have learned
best not to get too smart about
the spaces between the alphabets.
Yet, and this my conundrum, no letter
is ever apparent
unless there are spaces between Alpha and Omega.
So, too, music is a relationship between the sound and the silences-
too much music or sound is ultimately just noise or silence.
So in my mind rambles all these inconsistencies-
what about yours?
So we have the letters of an alphabet, and the spaces in between the letters
which are necessary to understand the words they form and from these empty spaces in between, much like silence and sound form music.
From this relationship we form the words and ultimately sentences, but note sentences alone do not form coherent paragraphs or pages for that matter and ultimately a book.
So what is the moral here? Pay attention to the background as well as the foreground, the seen and unseen since only from these relationships can we glean, true meaning:
too much concentration on the latter, and we miss the meaning embedded in the former.
True creativity means we are versatile in both and it is also the perfect metaphor for the differences and similarities between Science and Religion.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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An Idea
An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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After witch hunt
I don’t go after witch hunt
I have suffered and bore the brunt
Though I succeded in creating the shunt
There was enough of bonding though I was blunt
The thoughts were invading in empty space
The mind was fully occupied with race
There was duality in presenting the face
I was not prepared to go down in any case
I have seen the reasons behind
Anything especially I couldn’t find
It was definitely a tug of war
I was not at all a shining star
I had strong medium to present
All views across the table to represent
Though there was mad rush of conflicting views
It was sometimes drawing critical reviews
The poets are not at all at ease
They eagerly wait for its release
There is tremendous scope for its clash
They appear in mind like flash
It is pure art to put the ideas across
You may sometimes draw the flake or cross
It is pure imagination to have taken real shape
It may get you galore or put restrictions or cap
How it is going to be done is not anybody’s job?
One has to see to it clearly that it is not going to rob
It is traditional thinking coupled with originality
To bring it in new form is real quality
The thought may emerge and fade so soon
Like stars in sky but not seen in noon
The small poets may twinkle on the horizon
They may not restrict to any theory of zones
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Mind Searching
I was drifting through the chambers
of imagination, deep in my mind,
searching desperately for inspiration,
but it was proving so hard to find.
Visions of nonsense appeared,
as a smoke screen in my head.
It seemed the brain was delaying
creative ideas from being read.
Imbalances of clouded colour
flooded the chambers of my mind.
One by one, thoughts became stifled,
visualization I couldn’t find.
For some strange unknown reason
there was disagreement in my head.
Mind and brain were in turmoil
until the problem was sorted.
Attempts by the brain to cloud my mind
this time thankfully failed.
Inspiration is now clearly flowing,
but next time, which will prevail.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Z-Without You
I will not be able to write
without
you;
There will be no new lines
or ideas;
until
I hear in my mind
you breathing;
hear two hearts beating
above this page.
Even this
next word
isn't real
unless I envision
that it will
by you read;
that it will be felt
by you too.
Any eager beginning
is meaningless
unless
you sit with me here.
I move my chair now;
as evening comes
to better see
what to write;
This phrase too
and the next one or two
awaits my imagining
you'll see the words flow here.
I can't say when the words
will come;
they'll surprise;
but I am very clear
who they are for,
and they will sail
across this paper
buffeted by the gentle breeze
of we two breathing;
hearts beating.
Nothing happens
unless I feel
you share it too.
Dear Reader
I feel you.
and more.
Thanks for reading this volume.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Tired Of Waiting
tired of waiting
I've been waiting up all night
tired of waiting
I've been waiting since midnight
tired of waiting
just to give you an insight
tired of waiting
I've half a mind to walk away
and half a mind to stay
I'm tired of waiting
I'm tired of the lies, baby
too many broken promises
am I the only one who cares
I must be dreaming
are you for real today
oh, look at the bed we made
woe-betide the friends that I betrayed
god only knows the price I paid
you can't imagine
I gave you time and space
but love still leaves you cold, no time to waste
let me be your saving grace
I'm tired of waiting
alright
tired of waiting
hate to see you so uptight
tired of waiting
let me give you an insight
tired of waiting
with the benefit of hindsight
tired of waiting
when your father ran away to sea
he was running to be free
I know the feeling
'cause you put the hurt on me
I try so hard to compensate
all you do is make me wait
times are changing
you can lean on me
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Power of Ideas
The power of ideas are immeasurable
They are the hidden treasures which lies
Deep within each and everyone of us
When we take the time to mind them we will find
That they are more precious than diamonds
Ideas which may seem insignificant
Has tremendous power within them
They are the genesis the initiation the foundation
Of all invention and everything which
Is created by humankind
The power of ideas are immeasurable
They have got the power to move mountains
To overcome any obstacle and to make
The seemingly impossible possible
Ideas are the levers which moves and the axis
On which the world revolves
The power of ideas are immeasurable
The power of ideas...
poem by Anthony Shurland Phillander
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Mind Is The Magic
Mind Is The Magic
Come in to me
I know mystical garden
Orchards and violets
All mysteries are parted
Life is a mirageghost
Imagination
Pure inspiration called justification
Nothing's impossible
Nothing's concealed
Everything here is for real
What gives fantastic ghouls all in your head?
Who creates wonders like nobody can?
Chorus:
Siegfried & Roy
You know it's
Siegfried & Roy
So be it
Siegfried & Roy
I'm gonna...
Siegfried & Roy
When it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
Your own thoughts play the game
In the magical wonders they do
The mind in the magic is you
Move of the head
And I'll change your emotions
Strange things appear
From euphorics, devotions
Everything's happening
Nothing's unreal
Hallucinating the mind in the real
Seeing black panthers
That suddenly fly
White tigers stalking your mind
Hallucinating the things that you see
This kind of magic's so hard to believe
[Chorus]
'Cause when it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
Your own thoughts play the game
In the magical wonders they do
The mind in the magic is you
When it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
When it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
(Seeing is believin'...)
When it's Siegfried & Roy
It's the mind of a magic in true
Hallucinations
The game of this kind
This kind of magic
Throws mind
[Chorus]
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothings Lasts Forever
i
the termites are happy
for i have chosen wood,
and learning my lesson
i use steel
the sea breeze sings
with its salt
ii
the cement may be the solution
or the asphalt
and yet my mind changes
wanting to break the hardness
of the stuff
iii
i like things that last
they say i must have the diamonds
oh! something that we cannot eat?
iv
the body turns to dust
the soul escapes
ideas even on paper
meet the burning
v
footprints on the sand
eaten by the waves
a new slate is ready
i step again and again
now i do not really mind
what prints are there
what word is spoken
what ideas grow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Me And My Big Ideas
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
Go get a volunteer
We'll pay him well my dear
He will see inside your mind
Because he is that kind
It's a southern kind of heat
The shadows crack and start to creep
Conversation drag its feet
I wish we'd both been more discret
Like light that it caught between night and day
You're stuck between me and my
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
Well they love you when you're weak
Bet they hate you to see this winning streak
It's that thing we call control
There's a deep frustration
Black thoughts
That are stuck between someone's ears
Like me and my big idea
So many strings to your bow
Why not let one go
In a way this dream is over
Blown away our four leaf clover
There's no reason why
There's just me and my
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Raoul & The Kings Of Spain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blank Mind
There's a clean sheet of paper, with nary a word,
And number two pencils sharpened so fine.
Yet my mind undoubtedly is not on board,
My muse I must have left behind.
Here I sit without a single thought,
Staring out the window pane.
Without the inspiration I have sought,
No electrical impulses in my brain.
My mind is a desert, life hidden away,
Only rocks and sand abound.
My thoughts have a seven second delay,
No inspiration is to be found.
6/17/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Will The Words Come Back?
Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?
13 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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