Book to be read
How to read a book page when book it self is denied?
Book can remain mystery till last until it is supplied
Very friend of mine and great poetess thinks of seclusion
It is her and only her and absolutely no provision for any inclusion
How person can shy away from reality of life and basic facts?
You can’t be truly yourself until you come forward and act
It has got no relevancy in fact if you kill your self with conscience
You got to open up to face the people with modern science
“I am open to friendship but not to worldly talks of any pleasure”
“I am shy of everything and not in position to reassure”
This revelation stunned me for the absence of any real reason
Poet/poetess has to be versatile and accessible in any season
I detested her seclusion as if I was after oasis water
What steps or method should I employ for her opinions alter?
She was not t unreasonable but suffering from her own prison
Secluded voluntarily for no good reason and imprisoned
We have holy task of giving frank opinion through mighty pen
It may only be fruitful when people come round and offer then
Their unstinted love for the worthy creations and comment
Life may have its own rainbow and we have no reason to lament
Many readers come with the beautiful comment to label me as vampire
They term me as modern vampire and I enjoy it as gift of empire
What others say may not necessarily means an insult or derogation
It must be taken as not utter surprise but in form of congratulation
I had urge to read complete book pages from a renowned poetess
She was complete genius with full of talent and not stage actress
What needed was complete exposure in public to be judged?
I had no way to approach her for the fear of being misjudged
She realized the point behind and assured to shed the oblivion
I was really assured of very good player returning from pavilion
I don’t what may be worth point in recalling her real, presence
It was great loss to the poetry world for the talent and absence
I feel totally thrilled to find out friend in the promise of “may be”
They were the reassuring words of what actually would have been or should be
It was promise to come back to the poetic world with good skill
I considered it as emergence of powerful entry or strong will
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
The Book Of My Life
Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book I'm afraid to write
It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And it's all there to see as the section reveals
There's some sorrow in every life
If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days
I'm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life
There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
There's a page where we fail to meet
There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned
There's a chapter on god that I don't understand
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Now the daylight's returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all that's left is you
Though the pages are number
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In romantic mood
Poetess is very happy today and in romantic mood
For her love is the only passion and food
She has Chris on hand to go with
Full with deep love and armed with teeth
What moon, earth or for that matter anything
She has needed none or expects something
Since weeks she had prepared beautiful ground
Now naturally she will be drunk and found
All her eagerness may come to an end
In Chris she has found an ally and friend
What else she has needed to enjoy?
No stars, no sky and no moon to joy
Let her explain what happened on that day
How did she enjoyed it till long night stay
What did he get in return for complete surrender?
Who was winner in race? Female or male gender
Let it remain there as their private domain
They might have talked about loneliness and pain
We may hear the version form poetess's encounter
let her take complete world by storm and enter
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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An apologetic gesture
Apologetic gesture and earnest attempts to woo
Do or die approach with resolve to do
I find it very hard and out of it nothing to gain
It adds to tension and worries still remain
It is not fact that I want to be aloof
But I expect the result to be full proof
Can’t afford to be even slight careless
All my efforts are dedicated and in fairness
You may comment and pass casual remark
I still go ahead and ventures embark
Whatever may be result or outcome?
I shall steadfast and offer the welcome
what do we need in our general dealing?
Gentle and mild touch with smooth healing
Book pages always open and nothing to conceal
Highest regards even when secrets to reveal
Why are we disliked in general?
Is it our approach or bad moral?
Even water tests sweet if it is fresh mineral
Sweet words only please others and do the miracle
We offer floral tribute on somebody’s death
Shed the teats with feelings and lay the wreath
Is it not senseless to utter bitter words and damage?
We pay respect by paying good homage
These are not mere book words or advice
Neither they are mechanical nor any device
It is practiced in good faith and in general pattern
Finding correct path even with the dim light of lantern
No one may like the way as suggested
Minds are bogged down with traffic congested
Nothing goes normal as ground not tested
Bad ideas gain momentum and good ideas arrested
We can avoid so many things in public
We can not sight any reason specific
It has to be in keeping with tradition
It can’t be spelled out with any condition
I may have solid reasons to go for it
I may apologize and humbly submit
I can’t do or remedy the thing undone
Only way open for us is to forget and pardon
To pardon with grace is considered a big gesture
Relation is built by keeping in view bright future
It may add to existing relation with sweetness
Strong bond of friendship with complete openness
It is necessary to plant the seeds in advance
Future may speak of it when you just glance
Tree may not come up in one day or grow
Its process will be gradual and seemingly slow
We will witness the miracle of apologetic gesture
Person may be induced to have good ideas or nurture
It has got direct bearing on our behavior and relation
Its outcome may be sign of good indication
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Chornicles of a Dark Heart Part 16 The open book's monologue
Red what is it to you black the color of death? maybe maybe not? anyone here play video games? FOR CHAOS? ring any bells help spread the taint more quickly? what might an open book write
what would a open book draw
what would an open book think
open books are predictable
so predict what the picture means
why is black black? why is red O infused? what is the meaning only you know maybe only me...
(added years later)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
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Lost In A Book
SHHH!
don't bother me
I'm lost in a book
mixed up with
the complicated plots
and outrageous characters
when i'm lost in a book
I don't have to think
about my life
I'll get stuck in
a fantasy world
and never
have to come back
home again
one book
after another
I read, read, read
different places
different people
a new world
I start fresh
each time
I open up a new book
when i'm lost in a book
I am safe
no one can hurt me
I'm happy
when I'm lost
in a book
poem by Annie Janine
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Love
I love Thee in the sky,
After long, hot summer days,
Like to run through the fields,
When they've finished makin' hay.
I love meeting people,
I've never met before.
And I like it when my friends,
Come knocking at my door, yeah.
Ooh, I love the sky at night,
Just to sit and count the stars.
I like to mess around,
With bicycles and cars.
I love to see the moon,
When it's up and full.
And I like it when a fish,
Gives my line a pull.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
I love stone ground bread,
And I like it when I get my breakfast in bed.
I love little old ladies,
Who make funny faces at brand new babies.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
I love St. Judy's comet,
I love to break bread,
I get a blessing from it.
And I love to see a Bible,
That's been well used.
'Cause when a Bible's well used,
The devil's not amused.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
So, it's easy to see,
Just how good You been to me.
Oh, you made life's mystery,
An open book for all to see.
Yeah, yeah,
Anyone can read the book.
Oh, the feel of a long, hot summer day.
I love, I love,
Little old ladies, who make funny faces at brand new babies.
You made life's mystery and open book for all to see.
I love breaking bread.
I love to see a Bible when it's been well read,
When it's well used, you know the devil's not amused.
I love, I love, I love, I love, yeah,
I love, I love, I love, I love.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poet and poetess
(a poetical exercise with Menime Soul)
The poet:
Oh..is it just a strange illusion..?
I feel love knocking on my door.
I know..and this is my confession..
I always loved you from my core.
The poetess:
My love is like a darkness fire
It's like a subconscious dream
It burns to kill any desire
Even you hate me and you scream
But I'll make you be completely mine
And you will feel so much alive
And when in dawn the sun will shine
you'll be yourself and you'll survive.
The poet:
Oh great..this is not an illusion.
This is love in its perfection.
Hard to believe but I know my dear..
This is true love's resurrection.
The poetess:
My love for you is complete and strong
I feel we met in other life
And love of a life time is one song
We sing it as husband and wife.
The poet:
I waited my whole life for this night
No matter how cold it is out
You changed my day, you're the dawn of light
Your love keeps me warm, it's no doubt.
The poetess:
When we can feel our love inside
And maybe it is more than love
It's our everything, it's our flood tide
A new world of time, a rock dove.
And I feel this need deeply within
And our dawn entwining the souls
By inspiring breath and touching skin
At the moment we become whole.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Open Book's Monologue (revisited the years later portion of part 16)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Read Me Like a Book
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
You will find each piece to fit.
Very little of it will be misunderstood.
I am not a one dimensional quick read at all.
I lay it on the line.
You will find I wont allow anyone,
To sit and pick my mind.
I don't waste that kind of time.
Unless,
Of course...
You are divorced from that as well?
Hmmm...
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
You have no idea how much I wish,
To get you hooked.
Craving to salivate.
Drooling!
Each chapter has been crafted,
With some sentiment and pain.
You will find some sorrow and regret.
And some expression of heartache left.
You will discover blemishes and flaws,
With attempts to have them corrected.
Notice I admit imperfection...
With self reflection I don't neglect.
Or regret it is you I wish to impress.
No games of tit for tat I play.
I say what I mean.
Not what you wish to hear me say.
And none of it is from mumbled lips.
I want each word read you 'read' conveyed!
I want what I say in your mind to stay.
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
But you will never comprehend...
How long this process took.
Flip through each page,
As if you seek definition.
You will discover I am not perfect.
But freed by a peace...
To solict your complete and total admission.
Willing to show you mended scars.
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
I knew you were coming!
That's why it is already open.
Take your time.
I want you to find me an easy read.
Hopefully to collaborate on new chapters.
Together,
You and me.
You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
Take me with your eyes.
Hold me in your hands.
And bring me close to your heart!
There we are.
Touching!
That's how I like it.
Do you?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Storyteller's Word
In a decent book, I can lose myself,
For, at least, a good couple of hours.
A well told story, for young or old,
My mind will quite hungrily devour.
I’ve always loved a real page turner:
A story, which, is totally compelling.
Sometimes, there’s a story, true or invented,
Which, simply, deserves, and needs telling.
Sometimes, a person in a book,
To me, can feel like a true friend;
You share their life and adventures,
And feel rather sad, when it all ends.
A story can stir up a mixture of emotions:
I’ve cried tears, and gasped with surprise.
I’ve found myself completely captivated,
As a story unfolds before my very eyes.
A good story, has the ability to transport you,
To different places, and to different times.
You just never know where you may end up,
When you sit and read those immortal lines.
Stories should never be kept locked away:
With others, they should be readily shared.
There is no other past-time, known to man,
With which, reading a book, can quite compare.
Whether a story is based on a person’s life,
Or whether, it has been quite purely invented,
A story can make such an impact upon you,
That, forever, in your memory, it is cemented.
I’ve always adored a really well written story,
Regardless of, by whom, or when, it was written.
Snuggled up, with a book held in your hands,
It is so easy, to become completely smitten.
A story can make you lose all track of time,
When, in a book, you are totally immersed.
I love reading a story, and really drinking it in;
For reading books, I’ve developed a real thirst.
There are many stories, the world over,
Which, are still waiting to be heard.
Nothing on earth, is quite so powerful,
As the power of the storyteller’s word.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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To God Give The Glory (Monchielle)
To God give the glory
Is a treasure to read
Christina R. Jussaume
Is great poet indeed
Her poems vanish gloom
To God give the glory
Her love for Christ is pure
It reflects thru poems
Her words are wise and kind
Uplifts the soul is true
To God give the glory
I'm glad I got a copy
You'll enjoy what you see
She writes witty and nice
Happy her book I read
To God give the glory
Poet tells some funny jokes
She writes of God and life
Of Christ and all she knows
Poet shares loves and strife
November 25,2009
Author's note:
'To God Give The Glory' is a wonderful
and very uplifting poetry book written by
the great poetess Christina R. Jussaume
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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Never think
Person should never think of retiring
Until something in him is tiring
The day you think you are weak
You won't be in complete command to speak
One may look at beautiful nature
In many forms to bright his future
It may depend largely on how you cherish and nurture
Some one may see it it as vulgar others may find permanent cure
One must think if leaving worldly desires
Leave behind no laughing stock with satires
So until you expose openly what you are
You are going away from reality very far
Beautify is to see and quietly enjoy
What a different look to see and get joy!
Not one person may know what is worth to be seen
It is nature that has created the scene
God! Give me the reason to flirt
Throw all the different ideas with dirt
I shall see real reflection in their faces
What happiness in their innocence to trace
I for one may chase it in fairness
Read the happiness and lines on face
Even if I go sometimes wrong in chase
I shall feel happy to represent the case
The inner soul may never die
Look at the beautiful flower and never ask why
We are all creations of almighty, the powerful
Remain in life, smile along with them and show how they are beautiful
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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One day queen
“Ask anything from me “I shall fulfill
Almighty God asked me for realization of will
”in fact I don’t deserve for it any more”
With no skill in me how can I explore? I replied
”You have all the potentials as fake poet
how can you keep silence and remain quiet?
You tried very hard to unset many stalwarts
Without poetic skill you tried to be smart”
You have used talent for gaining ground
Nothing extra ordinary in you was seen or found
You knew your talent and its limitations
Still you have tried to prove it with citations
What else you want to score and achieve?
Do you believe in “earn respect and give? ”
If not then ask whatever you wish or want
I may fulfill your demand and grant
“Make me poetess queen for one day”
I want to have complete rule and say
One or two days may sufficiently pave the way
Just help me out to find golden ray
I failed to achieve by dishonest mean
I was desperately trying or very keen
I took precaution that I was not involved in the scene
But in all games virtually I was in
“I appreciate all your qualities”
“That is how I have provided you the facilities”
You will wear poet’s crown for two days
Thereafter find the convenient route or find the ways
But bear in mind and don’t take it for granted
You are slur on poet’s part and never wanted
Poetry level has been brought to lowest ebb
This can continue only on particular web
Many more are following in same way
Without talent they want to have sway
How can this be a healthy and fair game?
Where only tricks, fame and matters the name
This is mere example of what is actually going on
Artificial ratings with popular voting game is on
It may boost ranking and popularity drive
People may fall in trap and really believe
To reach on the top is not child’s play
It has so much in it for readers to say
It may take years to build public opinion
Nobody can help even some influential union
You will have to carve out your own image
It doesn’t matter how much is your age
You must have progressive views without any bondage
It must come on as if fine print on page
God also helps those who help themselves
Person who knows his limitation and behaves
Rest will follow its natural course
Nothing can stop him from reaching top of course
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Free Bird
I feel free bird today
I thought it required no attention to pay
Yet it was something new to me
As I always remained with tension and worry
Had I struck a jackpot?
Was I declared best on the spot?
I had no reason to feel delighted
I tried to assess but reasons were not sighted
It is good and life time chance
That can come hardly at once
One must avail it with full grace
With broad and free smile on the face
Even otherwise you can feel and remain happy
This important aspect is missed by so many
You need not find reason to be overjoyed
Every moment is precious and must be enjoyed
I tried to shed away the illusion
I wanted to have no more confusion
How can I do away with natural gift?
I needed only fine gesture with complete shift
It is one of the good and fine art
One must behave well and feel very smart
The joy and happiness is within
It is you only who can decide loss or win
Nothing may matter even if you remain in isolation
It can, in no way, build the strong relation
You can display it on face with strong revelation
The illusion as such may not pose any question
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Reason behind liking
There is reason behind every liking
You catch the idea and it must be striking
Not necessarily a comment or length praise
But a serious thought for poets to chase
Write nicely or face the ire
Applaud and honor when we admire
Your poems may contain pain and satire
Definitely readers are key players
How does an actor know the art?
When there is nothing new to start?
There is lot more to improve
When readers write or disprove
Encourage and put reason with logic
It is good test and real basic
If you write and comment
It will be blessings as if heavenly send
Poet does it with his pure imagination
He may have fir belief and inclination
It is possible he may err in his reading
Make it sure he is not marketing or trading
The literature is meant for human consumption
Certain facts are understood with assumption
You may find heart change with resumption
It is personal choice for rejection or adoption
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Only Person Who
The problem with an open book, is it can't know
How it feels, what it says, who it is.... only show
The problem with an open book is its fraught with confusion yet no answer
With danger yet no protection
How can i run from her?
When she's written all over me like an inscription
Open books don't have a say
Open books won't last more than a day
If left open, they cannot defend or close
Can't run away, no toes
Even if it's all an illusion
This delusion
This me, I'm the open book because I'm the the only
One who can't read me
The only one who doesn't know how I feel
So please tell me because I get hurt, but no one heals
I feel this way or that
But to me I don't know what is fact
What is dreamed and what is real
The only person who doesn't know me is me
Someone close it or kill it so then no one can see
poem by David Knox
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Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare the worse.
A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Best Product Not Sold
It is matter of joke
When poems offer me stroke
They receive more 'likes' than comments
I console self with 'likes'' rather than resent
At least readers don't offer you brickbats
If they could express and clearly state
But we are all thankful to escape unhurt
Otherwise we must be prepared to receive the bag full of dirt
Now a days politician receive 'Chappals'as gift
There is slight modification in approach or shift
Either it may be stage managed show to draw the attention
Here we find 'likes' and it should be taken as unrecognition
Readers have become wise and miser
We value them as an expert and adviser
More often they offer valuable tips
I take it seriously and soundly sleep
'Uncle you pack your luggage'
'You are on oxygen and has lost an edge'
I take their words in form of blessings
They have no clue and offer misgivings
Today we have more writers than readers
Like wise each house has fewer members and more leaders
Each one is capable of leading big country
But find no support for talent and feel sorry
Each and every poem must find its due recognition
It has hidden message with scope for revelation
If some one likes it, it must find reason
If not then also it needs few words for poet as person
In today's world even best product is not sold in market
It needs some means and ways to reach people with support
It may take years of hard work, labor and pain
Then only he may be able to reach the position or attain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Last Page
I always dread the last page in a book,
especially when the book was good.
So I close it up and put it aside
but some of those pages you can't hide.
They've become a memory to keep.
So the book just goes to sleep
for a while.
And some time in the future out it comes
just like a trusty old friend.
I open it up and start it once again
reading it from beginning to the end.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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