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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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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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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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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Whitewash My Mind
Clutter, clatter…way too much chatter.
I have no idea what’s the matter;
But I do know that I’m a mess.
The world passes by and I must confess
I’m on the street corner of life afraid to cross,
Fearing traffic of new ideas will be my loss.
My focus withers with noises of each day.
Old memories dominate as new thoughts give way.
Delving deep in my fears, what do I find?
I must whitewash all that currently infects my mind.
Rinse away antiquated ideas toward a new direction.
Life rewards only those who make a right selection.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Memories in the mind
Memories are made in the mind,
and there if you search, you will find.
There in the mind, so many things,
so many memories it brings.
So many years have passed,
of our youth, away we have cast
some memories happy, some memories sad,
memories have I, when I was a lad.
Memories have I, of a dog named shep,
memories of him, when he kept in step.
Memories of my friends, when we played,
of those days, for ever memories relayed.
Memories of family and fun,
when we talked until the setting of sun.
Memories of washing our fifty-seven Ford,
and wanting things we couldn't afford.
Memories are made in the mind,
long lost, search and you will find,
memories of days gone by,
searching memories, oh how you try.
Memories will fade out,
you have forgotton, what it's about,
memories lost in the mind,
dig them out and you will find.
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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Cleanse My Mind
Clutter, clatter…way too much chatter.
I don’t even know what’s the matter;
But I do know that I’m in a mess.
The world passes by and I must confess
I’m on the street corner of life afraid to cross,
Fearing traffic of new ideas will be my loss.
My focus withers with noises of each day.
Old memories dominate as new thoughts give way.
My only hope is to totally cleanse my mind.
Rejuvenate my senses as if they are all redesigned.
Bid farewell to ideas and people not espousing change.
Work toward the positive person I now can arrange.
Rinse away old prejudice so coveted by the inept.
Live by new standards, knowing that here is kept
More precious treasure than can be found in any coffer…
It’s the happiness and peace of mind cleansing can offer.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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2010/06/18 Simile (Rev.)
I love ancient minds, the grandiose
thoughts of bygone tale-tellers, their
sense of awe, infusing all they saw
with supernatural significance and
deeper meaning
I share their cosmological delight in
a machine too vast for mankind to
penetrate or understand, reject their
helplessness and despair in a
mystifying universe
To succor my belief I NEED a kind
intelligence as creative origin of all that
exist, ideas of malevolence as creation
kills my spirit; though I cannot
breathe in materialism,
the thin, cold air of cynicism, nor feel
joy in small three-dimensional reality
I will not face over-powering tragedy
of an evil universe blindly grinding
its unfeeling millstone
If I am to live as a useful, pragmatic,
hard-working human being I need to
rest my mind in beautiful thoughts of
harmony, benevolence and rational
self-interest
I won’t be the toy of harsh, unfeeling
powers else I die of despair, I admire
loving intent of a Christ-dreamer using
ideas of Precession to create a simile
of deliverance
for a suffering humanity …
poem by Margaret Alice
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A Chinese Takeaway - for David with thanks
The ancient sage, beset with too many thoughts
for one human lifetime,
chooses carefully the place to sit
beside the lake,
under the even more ancient twisted pine
with the view of distant cliffs
where the stork’s cry echoes;
gathers his thoughts.
Out of mercy,
the breeze gently ruffles the surface
of the lake;
the sage, reminded by the ripples
of the stillness of the lake,
smiles from a mind that’s now the lake
reflecting the blueness of the sky;
reflects, beyond the blue,
the space in which immortals live.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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There are many stages to a man's life. In the first stage, he is young and eager, like a beaver. In the second stage, he wants to build things, like dams, and maybe chew down some trees. In the third stage, he feels trapped, and then 'skinned.'' I'm not sure what the fourth stage is.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flesh Burns In Mind Filament Flash Offerings
what morning breaks creaks worlds thoughts aquiver
what fire waking runs preys upon inertia desires river
storm fed from finger creek runoff mountain cascades
flesh burns in mind filament flash electric shock parades
art transfixed status artifacts votive hands made offerings
silver sight plies second sight night whispers sage delivers
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Too Beautiful
Too beautiful to be human
Your thoughts are not shades of gray
I say to you, you are a curious child
I say to you, you are a wise sage
Let the child kiss the sage
Let the sage instruct the child
And we will all benefit
When the wise child begins to speak.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Me & My Big Ideas
Me and my big ideas
Wont wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That Im not that kind
Go get a volunteer
Well pay him well my dear
He will see inside your mind
Because he is that kind
Its a southern kind of heat
The shadows crack and start to creep
Conversation drag its feet
I wish wed both been more discret
Like light that it caught between night and day
Youre stuck between me and my
Me and my big ideas
Wont wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That Im not that kind
Well they love you when youre weak
Bet they hate you to see this winning streak
Its that thing we call control
Theres a deep frustration
Black thoughts
That are stuck between someones 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
Theres no reason why
Theres just me and my
Me and my big ideas
Wont wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That Im not that kind
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts of desire
Thoughts of desire
~
A burning passion rises
consumes the mind at will
thoughts become provocative
seducing the subconscious
ideas come into place
stirring, hard to shake
passions flame burns hot
with the secrets we keep
the desires we mask
continue to rise inside
a thought grows into a dream
how sweet the night
passes into morning
dare we ever live them
or should they remain
kept inside the mind
as thoughts of desire
poem by Matthew Holloway
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So another challenge for our generation is to create global institutions that reflect our ideas of fairness and responsibility, not the ideas that were the basis of the last stage of financial development over these recent years.
quote by Gordon Brown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories
Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories
Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories
Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories
Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours
Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too
Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories
poem by Adam McKim
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Poet's Heart
A poem is like a wild rose
Your ideas bloom into something as it grows
Some your ideas flow clear and beautiful like a song
And sometimes those thoughts turn into sadness about things that go wrong
But the most important things to remember is where those ideas start.
And that is from a Poet's Heart
poem by Frank Pulver
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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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First sonnet
These words, they just wont come out of my head.
They stay deep down inside, where i can't reach.
I feel as if my mind has now gone dead.
These thoughts, i just cant hold, i want to screech!
You want me to write you a just sonnet,
but i cant think of what to say to you.
All i can think of is the word bonnet,
because its the only rhyme i can do.
if you want a better sonnet than this.
Then so help me, cause i don't have a clue.
do you think of my sonnet as amiss?
or are these thoughts down in my head adieu?
Will these ideas in my mind now leave?
So then i ask when will i be relieved?
poem by Brianna Perreira
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