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Lenses

Straining through spectacles, it’s usually difficult to see
Where subordinate clauses and dangling participles might be.

Armed with contact lenses: one distance, the other for reading
Overcomes a family tree’s seeming lack of visual breeding.

There’s the surgeon’s knife with its magical, momentary slice
That restores an optical world like those of sugar and spice.

Whether operation or not, the most precious lenses one finds
Are those that never suffer the distortions of tormented minds.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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It is hard to let old beliefs go. They are familiar. We are comfortable with them and have spent years building systems and developing habits that depend on them. Like a man who has worn eyeglasses so long that he forgets he has them on, we forget that the world looks to us the way it does because we have become used to seeing it that way through a particular set of lenses. Today, however, we need new lenses. And we need to throw the old ones away.

quote by Kenich Ohmae
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Competence, like truth, beauty, and contact lenses, is in the eye of the beholder.

quote by Laurence J. Peter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Competence, like truth, beauty and contact lenses, is in the eye of the beholder.

quote by Laurence J. Peter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard contact lenses

With my feet lifted
I hang out of balance
while someone skilful observes my eyes
and a bright painful light

shines into the depths of my eyes
seeing where the focus of my own cornea disappears,
measuring the deflection in my eyes,
seeing why and where my sight languishes away

and it’s like a rainbow
that deeper into my eye,
only still deeper wants to notch and spy
with rays in a wide circled bow

and when his eye later peeps at me,
he says look there
and let me look at another place
where he now feeds letters to my eyes

and with hard contact lenses I see like a falcon
but those things scratch, itch and pierce like a beam
there are furrows betraying the age of his face
and his teeth look like white lime,

my own freckles jumps out
and I forthright say to him
how much the lenses are bothering me
that there and then I want to throw them away.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Competence, like truth, beauty and contact lenses, is in the eye of the beholder.

Laurence J. Peter in The Peter Principle (1969)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God's drums - Ears

ears they are drums
god plays in this realm

eyes they are lenses
he places to magnify
his creations

tongue are channels
to his kingdom - adam
missed the right apple
and lost his right to an eternal home

my nerves are rivers
god fashions to help me
sail in his world to admire him

my mind, his inspiration as
to how extensive his creation is
you cannot reach its end nor beginning

my soul a repository for god to wine and dine
when his drums stop beating, lenses were covered
riverway closed and the mind waned in a mortal frame

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Alliteration Anonymous

Optical illusions
Distortions and diffusions
Detrimental depression
Ominous oppression
Severe suppression
Impervious impression
Chaotic compression
Retributive repression
Overbearing obsession
Sickly succession
Optical orifices

poem by Lauren Joy
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Prime Primitive Modernly

Distorted lenses post-
Through the time prime
‘tis hour memento mori bloom
Wedded in colours down the black earth
Black earth unearthed we cried
A glimpse we cried through a brothel hole
Taboo totem supposedly void of
Sort of free – still
In different chains idolatric
Distorted lenses we held
Against the time prime
Memento

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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It was an instinct to put the world in order that powered her mending split infinitives and snipping off dangling participles, smoothing away the knots and bumps until the prose before her took on a sheen, like perfect caramel.

quote by David Leavitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crack (Cliche and Cubist poetry)

Earth shatters

Slices of life,
Sequences
Of repeated occurrences,
Flowers waiting in their seeds,

Limitations,

Convergence after divergence,
Constantly sequencing
Optical aspheric lenses,
(We can say years
When we say yesterday)

Waves,

Abstract layer of time,
Minds,
Order against disorder,
(There are people eating people's world)

Variations,

Eyes of souls
In their own dimensions,
Wings of emotions,
Apple of my eye,

Visions,

Sparkling ideas,
Gliding their enigmatic flow
Into the mouth of universe,
(Making its mouth a single idea
In a shade
At the crack of dawn)

Extensions,

Self-aware matter,
Its nonexistence,
(An unicorn is really still nonexistent.)
Apagogical proofs,
Feet of clay,

Senses

Living with eternity,
Love as a splintered thing,
(Like there's no tomorrow.
Like there's nothing on this

Earth shattering.)

MCN: C7986-UKG7K-58QFA
© copyright Mon Jan 24 22: 44: 44 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Eternity Means Forever

Have I been living too long in this world I was born into or
Am I struggling to come to terms with my life in a fabricated world, as I hear
Voices of many I have never heard before interrupted by
The reproaching voices of my mother and of my father?
Voices so angry and replete with disapproval
Overpower the music of
Angels that are singing love songs and hymns of praise only to me?
I see the world through clouded lenses and
When the rain falls, it obliterates what I do not care to see- although
When I close my eyes and look through imaginary lenses-
I see pink clouds, purple mountains and a rainbow-
I perceive the sun dancing to a delightful minuet on the horizon-
I feel a gentle breeze breaking the oppressive heat of the summer
That inundates that world I do not care to live in?
My mind is spinning about in a vicious spiral-
I cannot distinguish reality from the world into which I am trying to escape?
My mother and my father had always looked through blinders
Unable to see or to accept the person I truly am and
As far back as I remember I heard only words of disapproval
As I never lived up to their idealistic expectations?
In all suddenness I have come to realize that
Their bodies and their souls have disappeared from this vicinity
Although I am still trying to discern veracity?
I hear the rustling of leaves on the trees that surround me and now, as
I tell myself that pink clouds and purple mountains do not exist in reality-
But in my reality, they do exist, so I mount my phantasmal unicorn and ride into the place
Where that rainbow awaits me as I sing hymns with the angels
To the tune of that minuet played by a chorus of nightingales-
I know now what is real is that I have abandoned the reality
I had once seen through clouded lenses
Now comprehending that my mother and father are alive only
In some other far away place in time-while
I have been reborn into a world of my dreams from which
I never care to awaken- angry disapproving voices shall never overpower my thoughts
Because I have chained the door to their existence-
I shall proudly keep riding that unicorn and
Continue singing in chorus with the angels and nightingales,
Until eternity casts its magical shadow upon my horizon, but everyone knows that
Eternity means forever-

poem by Claudia Krizay
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Visibility

Because my eyes were none to bright
Strong spectacles I bought,
And lo! there sprang into my sight
A life beyond my thought:
A world of wonder and delight
My magic lenses brought.

Aye, sudden leaping in my sight
The far became the near;
Life unbelievably was bright,
And vividly was clear.
My heart was lifted with delight,
Then--then I shrank in fear.

For faces I had thought were gay
I saw were lined with care,
While strange corruption and decay
Surprised me everywhere:
Dismayed I put my specs away,--
Such truth I could not bear.

And now I do not want to see
With clarity of view;
For while there's heaven hell may be
More tragically true:
Though dim may be Reality,
Sheer love shines through.

poem by Robert William Service
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My Return To The Magical Mystery Tree

Many kids run through the grass
Playing whatever game they've chosen

Passing them by
I walk up to the magicial mystery tree

I've paid a visit to the magicial mystery
tree before
And some have said that they can see
on the tree, a door
And some have said that they never saw
anything on the tree

I can see the door
But it's locked up tight
And try as I may
I can't unlock it
Not even with the help of the sunlight

Some say there's a whole different world
inside the magical mystery tree
Some say that only fairies and their friends
live inside the magical mystery tree
But no one knows for sure

So
After a few minutes in thought
Thinking of what I should do in the meantime
at the magical mystery tree
I decide to leave some very small gifts behind
for the fairies and their friends

Leaving behind some flowers and jewels
for the fairies and their friends
I certainly hope they'll enjoy them
I place near the door of the magical mystery
tree

After that
I realize I'm all done here
I gaze at the magical mystery tree for a few
moments
Until I realize it's time for me to be on my way

Looking at the magical mystery tree one last
time
I smile
Then I turn and walk away

Enjoy the gifts I've left behind
Fairies and friends

poem by Justin Gildow
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Broken Verbs and Writers Block

I coddle these Broken Verbs
hold them to light
to see if they will move me
beyond this adjectival, noun less state.

I am all Metaphor and Simile
swimming in Transitivity;
in my Pluperfectness.

My Gerunds
and Participles dangle
my Clauses fragment;
when I speak
I know only Dark Words
and Raven Poems.

Today I am tense;
less.
My Grammar is broken
my etiology's vague
and my words
have different and even
contradictory meanings.

I am reading the dictionary-
definition of Happiness;
it is confusing;
and depressing.
Look it up you will see.

So here now
I construct
Ist person sentences
to be
a step beyond
what Grammar I am today.

And each time I get
to the very last Clause
and the Period end
of the day.
Relieved.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Women And Men

Let passion be a weapon,
Men heard the women speak!
They raised their voices to fit,
And compassion faced us.
Growth of legs begged us
To see and delet the reading of eyes.
Eyes saw more of the lenses,
They entered the creation,
Their spoken words were a gift.
I saw swords erasing my enemy,
As more villages discovered men.
Never do men in that way beam
On women of the past.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Fragile Heart

You better take your watch off
When around large machinery
You better hide your wallet
If you plan to sleep with theives
Dont forget your bullet-proof vest
The next time you pick a fight with a guard
And if you work with unstable objects
Wear a hat thats hard
Chorus
Its simple tips like these
That keep you safe from injuries
The surgeon general should do his part:
Warning, beware, be careful - fragile heart
Take out your contact lenses
If you drive through a dust storm
Look both ways before crossing
The freeway of any legal form
Take off your antique jewelry
The next time you jump into a chlorinated pool
And dont forget, build a fence around your heart
The next time you give it to a fool
Chorus
Take your socks off the heater, man
You know theyre gonna get burned
Dont lend out your favourite pair of pliers
Unless youre sure theyll get returned
You would not give a shiny medal
To someone who dont work for it
So do not give of yourself
To one who wont adore it
Chorus
Transcribed by silver kat

song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lenses' Shifts

lenses
original concepts
shifts

poem by Terence George Craddock
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All Are Precious

Every child’s, a precious one!
Every spouse, a precious one;
Every sibling, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!

Every parent’s, a precious one!
Every student’s, a precious one!
Every teacher, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!

Every worker’s, a precious one!
Every inmate, a precious one;
Every colleague, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!

Every person’s, a precious one!
Every life, a precious one;
Every soul, a precious one;
For, most have small, a family norm!

So, take all care of every life,
And don’t take undue risks at all;
Life’s most precious thing on earth;
For, most have small, a family norm!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 24-10-2010

poem by John Celes
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A Strike Rhyme

The strike's done.
The men won.
The ships sail the sea
To bring back
What we lack,
Coal, sugar, tea.
And I'm glad,
Though I had
Rather never use
Tea and spice
And what's nice
Than see the men lose.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Celebrating Philip Larkin

He looks out at you from the photograph
or rather, doesn’t: eyes wide but blank,
thick lenses would place your image
in a plane you don’t inhabit;

like a fish that in an aquarium
suddenly swims direct toward you
stopping at the glass to stare a moment:
was there a meeting? What
are you to the fish?

So, nothing. Then next day,
he’s propping his bike against the wall,
bending down to take off his cycle clips;
caught so close, you exchange
English noises: the weather,
a joke or was it, delivered deadpan:
but the sound of him stays with you:
melancholy and yet celebrating
the confidence in being ordinary.

Then next day, the poetry:
starts matter-of-fact, regretful,
doesn’t miss a thing around him,
sharp eyes hiding behind pebble lenses: then,
dives with us into the sea of greatness:
calls us, reels us in, enslaves the heart
with voice that speaks beyond all melancholy;
haunted by the completeness of eternity.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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