Words
To speak, is to think - Exist.
We presume.
Throw around.
These exquisite realizations - Sounds.
Sounds, zounds! !
Composed all around.
To secure our thought.
A world made of noise.
Meaningless afterthought.
Justification of self.
To drown the other.
I wonder...
What other?
What self?
What cost?
Price, is it to be purchased?
Can one truly exist, if left alone?
Our meaning thus.
To build-up proof.
Memory - of us.
Present the evidence, on worth.
Where none otherwise.
Might be found.
Searching for Me.
Meaning and life.
Within the Valley.
Of the Shadow of Death.
Hoping to find.
Capture it.
Before It reaches out.
Buries me.
Into darkness.
Velvet mist.
So I wonder, my purpose.
Seek, if a soul could be found.
Its value discovered.
Bit-by-bit.
A letter, at a time - I plead.
Seek, for existence meek.
Some discovered, some lost.
Was to all, mischievously bound.
Thought to myself...
A purgatory, to endure.
Justify that heavenly joy.
Has it been earned or lost?
Without knowing - Without care.
Was my preaching.
Pathos, for naught?
Alas! ! !
What is life?
But bandying empty words.
In an hourglass...
poem by Ilari Rahja
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lost me
I lost me
I don't know where to find me
Moments of despair
Stuck in the past behind me
Tangled together
No one can unwind me
I did it to myself
I let this life behind me
I lost me
Or is it you that betrayed me
Continuous failure
In hopes that you would save me
Left me out to die
As if it wasn't you that made me
I thought I had you in my palms
Somehow you've escaped me
I lost me
On the road to my ow self
In search of paradise
But somehow
I discovered hell
Burning here
Along w/ all my mistakes
Still searching for forever
No matter how long it takes
I lost me
In the mist of the truth
Buried by the lies
I used to better you
better me, better them
Searching for an excuse
An empty shell of once was
What did you let me do?
I lost me
poem by Vanessa Mercado
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Without You
Feel so alone and sad
As if the meaning of being alive, exists no more
Nothing I have and nobody is here for me
Often, I feel so lost
Do not know where I belong, since without you life has no meaning
It is better to die than to live a lost life
I know you do not hear me anymore because you simply do not care
Knowing, I will have to be without you for the rest of my life
Feels really terrible and no words can explain this sadness of mine
An empty life I have
In which I am just a lost soul, with no meaning left to live
It is better to die, although even death does not come that easily
Just feel very sad, without you my love.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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The Sounds Of Birds
It's in the chirps-the sounds of birds,
As though repeating your oft uttered words:
Seen everywhere I could gather thought-
To truly love, without bound, you have taught!
The words come to me in dream and whilst awake,
Each time I do hear, away again my breath it does take-
My purpose in my life, defined by feelings mutual-
Ne'er has there been more need for sentiment perpetual! !
Words still are only just that, meaning naught without more,
Actions in keeping with pathos do bespeak amity's core!
Alas, not able are we to belie-
Nor, to fully answer the query-why? !
Every bird's song you shall hear, from now, uttered,
Be sure can you that my heart again has fluttered!
Maurice Harris,29 October 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
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I Just Want You Around
I just want you around
I just want you around
I just want you around
I just want you around
Thought that I had lost you
I can hardly make a sound
When I thought I couldn't hold you
Knew the world had let me down
Should have took the time to tell you
You keep my feet on the ground
I hope that you can hear me
Cause I know its not profound
I just want you around
I just need you around
I just want you around
I just need you around
When I thought I was without you
I got used to being down
It was my fault I used to doubt you
But that aint me next time around
Please believe me when I tell you
Cause all my words are bound
This is my cross now let me bare it
I was lost but now I'm found-found-found
I just want you around
I just need you around
I just want you around
I just need you around
Took this love for granted
Kept my feelings underground
Should have watered what I planted
Should have known what I have found
I'm not used to being lonely
I don't like the way it sounds
You're the only one I know-yeah
Who don't turn my upside-down
I just want you around
I just need you around
I just want you around
I just need you around
Yeah I want you around
I just need you around .......
song performed by by Lauryn Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Souls
Lost souls trapped all around me.
Stuck in this oblique purgatory.
Not knowing where to go or what they'll find.
Lost souls caught in a vicious grind.
Bending backwards until they break their spine.
Damn this ugly daily grind.
Broken and beaten such brutal words for token.
God help us please,
the lost souls that are diseased.
We are lost and can not be found,
the souls that are eartward bound.
These souls are lost at such a cost.
There are no freinds,
there is no love.
Just crippling pain that shoots like lightning.
I lost my soul it's all gone now.
Death is the only respite now.
So now I go and grab my gun,
pull the trigger so much fun.
My soul is lost,
no one will care.
Why should they now their souls are bare.
poem by Michael McParland
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Shadows
Shadows, transparent grey,
ask me about themselves,
I only know that when they exist, I exist
I too am the shadow of my own self,
How many times I have tried!
to follow you,
You kept disappearing with each step,
and then at a certain step, a certain moment,
only you remained, my shadow!
Only then I realized, my shadow, my friend
that since the beginning
only you had existed
While, In vain, like a lost child
I kept following only shadows,
It was then,
that i realized that all my life
I have been following only shadows.
They took me to certain corners, certain dark places,
and deserted streets!
Until I found myself,
I was the discoverer of my self,
I discovered that I myself was a shadow
lost among the people.
poem by Sarang Mangi
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Lost As A Treasured Experience
If it was not meant to be taken seriously,
None of it would have been given to be taken
With a purpose to receive,
And comprehend its meaning.
Instead of comprehending the meaning of it,
It has been left to sit
As of its existence is there to provide,
One a uselessness.
And one who has decided,
That all there is to it was to use
Until the nourishment from it was exhausted.
Then an exhaustion from taking it for granted
Leaves.
If
It was not meant to be taken seriously,
What is the purpose for any of it to exist.
Just to please the existing of the unimportance,
To prioritize an increasing toleration of nonsense.
And
If nonsense continues to increase,
The purpose of witnessing any of this
Diminishes in value to be lost as a treasured experience.
Never to have been found worthy of its priceless blessing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Is...?
What is the meaning of hate?
Is it the dislike of someone different than you?
Or is it the loathing of something simple like broccoli?
What is the meaning of discrimination?
Is it the hatred of someone of a different background?
The hatred of skin color;
Or is it the bitter taste of being different from everyone else?
What is the meaning of uniqueness?
Is it the purpose of being odd and unusual?
The adaptation to your own life and style;
Or is it the stereotypical clan that society has put you?
What is the meaning of life?
Is it that time keeps moving; leaving us in the dust is leaves behind?
The endless stream of consciousness that everything has;
Or is it the meaningless and indefinable thing we give every day?
What is the meaning of death?
Is it that grim reaper knocking at your door?
The inky blackness of nothing;
Or is it something that can’t be defined only experienced when it is time?
Many questions are asked everyday without even meaning to ask them.
They are hidden within the minds of those who are too afraid to speak out;
To let THEIR voices be heard.
So I ask you these questions in hope that you will ask them yourself;
To find the meaning of it for yourself and not what others say it is.
One final question is all I leave you with.
What is the meaning of everything that you thought you knew?
poem by Regan Meade
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If The Surface For Them Did Not Exist
If the surface didn't exist,
Many wouldn't have a thought to cling to.
Many wouldn't know,
Which gossip heard was true.
If the surface for them did not exist.
If the surface didn't exist,
The many dependent on having lives not their own...
Would be lost without being told what to do.
Many absolutely would not have a clue...
How to find their way around,
Without following in someone's footsteps.
If the surface they sniffed did not exist.
And if the surface for them did not exist...
They would not be able to sit alone,
Doing something completely on their own...
And appreciating life,
With the minding of their own business.
If...
The surface for many did not exist,
It would be taumatic for them to seek a thought process.
Many would not know where or how to begin.
So many are accustomed to living lives that are shallow.
With an ability only to identify with that...
Which is supplied and arrives to them surfacely.
Even a dog sniffing tries to find a place to bury a bone.
And doing that alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Thought I Could Love You
I thought I could love you,
It was inspiration I spent not knowing,
But perceive that every notion was true,
Meander through the existence of time.
There was a moment of loving you more,
When you and each image brought a sigh,
I had inspiration which made illusion appear,
So near yet indefinite reality could not apply.
The feeling of so much love driven to control,
A jewel stole to build a palace of bliss,
Eternity could not be long enough to hold,
The wonderful thought appears so precious.
Words of truth I know, because it meant much,
Simply wonderful for such thought to exist,
The tears of utter joy I could almost touch,
Among the fairground treat the soul entreat.
I thought I could love you in that perfect dream,
Others found a way the yearning to forget,
As I fail, whole life shame goes into the stream,
Moved on and build up greater walls to protect.
poem by Gerry Legister
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The Rose
This immortal rose that lovers seek
will be glimpsed by all in youthful peak
for her presence will be on every corner.
And those who confuse that heady perfume
with a lust for love,
will only find winter in an unknown heart
for beauty was always a fragile thing.
We who have seen this gift from above
will always get burned by its light.
The poet and the painter
have perfumed our existence
with loves testimony to this.
The pain and tears fall on empty shield
for love will break your heart
but when we reach out to hold the rose
picked from these fields of hope,
a moment in life unfurls,
love will kiss your soul
and the world belongs to you.
Fleeting are the petals of time
the rose is a symbol to love.
For others it is the pain of life,
to find and lose this immortal gift
leaves a desert where life cannot breathe.
The laughter replaced by silence
the smile that is kept in darkness,
the kiss exiled to the memory.
Love is lost in the deepest pit
of your despair,
the thorns will bleed your soul red
but she can never die.
Love will always leave a spark
that will lead you to redemption
and only death can take this from you.
The rose was never yours to pick
but its creation yours to admire
for your being was made for this.
And as our mortal bodies die
the spirit will seek the rose once more
for in death its petals fall too
blessing the ground of your resting place.
The rose was always yours
and its beauty a source of life
the chains of doubt will always
break in its presence.
The rose is pure
as is your faith in mankind.
It can show you a deeper meaning
for you are the petals of life
she is the perfume of your existence
and it is you that made her life complete.
poem by Steven Cooke
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A Poem Whose Meaning The Poet Does Not Know
A POEM WHOSE MEANING THE POET DOES NOT KNOW
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Is a question only its readers can answer.
But if in the silence of endless absence
There are no readers
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Becomes a poem which does not exist.
And a poem which does not exist
Is not the poem the poet dreamed
When he heard in the night or the early morning
That rush of music that sequence of sounds
Which seemed to say more than he would ever understand
As he wrote it down in haste
For fear it somehow would be lost.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Way That Way!
Today a miracle baby is running away
In a misty foggy distant motorway
While the balloon lion is timely floating
Wishes born and dissolve straight away
Tearful eyes
Lost in space
Lost in time
Lost
The
Meaning
Of
A special rhyme
Lost
The
Meaning
Of
A new day
Lost
The
Meaning
Of
A pure love
Running in anger
Running
Running
Running
In
Dismay
The world they say is rich and resourceful
But difficult to live in a peaceful way
Our existence is continuously changing
Like a river
Carrying
Life
Death
And
Decay
Disenchanted in today’s living
The miracle baby
Want to know
God
How
To live
How
To obey
Nothing seems
Honest
Nothing seems
Direct
Genuine
Sincere
Despite what they say!
The miracle baby 'cries' and 'continues'
To pray
For all the soldiers killed
Fighting
For
So called
Peace
And
For
Those
Scarified
Slaughtered
In a religious
Sway
Wondering
About
All these killing
All these sacrifices
Ever
Ever
Brought to them
The truth
They always
Thought about
Then they forgot
The next
Day
Miracle baby is running away
But not knowing
Why
How
And
Where
Just desperate
For a sign
For a hope
For a ray
Miracle baby is
Running
Searching
And
Searching
'Grew'
Old
Even before
Had a chance
To
Play
poem by Najib Altawell
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Hidden Truths
In darkness we see nothing,
It is nothing,
Only blackness,
Solitude,
Aloneness.
In a world of light we see everything,
It is everything.
Light fills the gaps in our minds showing us reality,
Truth,
Existence.
When the lights go off and darkness comes,
Everything we knew is lost,
It becomes consumed by the nothing,
Hidden,
Lost.
Everything is engulfed in nothing,
It is hidden from our mind,
Yet it is still there,
Exists,
Is.
Blindness is like the darkness,
With a dark curtain covering our perception,
And things still exist in the world,
Reality,
Fact.
Darkness is the emptiness of seeing,
The lack of evidence of existence,
Yet without perceived minds they are still there,
Exist,
Are.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Nothing
Pain
All consuming
Like a fire
I can't breathe
There's nothing left
What have you done?
My hands are shaking
I can't sit still
My mind is racing
My heart is breaking
Strangled gasps
Heart races
It's all a blur
Where am I?
What happened?
Who are you?
You stole my breath
My mind
My heart
My body
Are you a thief?
Are you a liar?
Who is it that can do something so small,
Yet so large
That I have nothing left
Only pain
Only rage
Only hurt
Only tears
Only blood
Only fears
Only death
Have you stolen everything?
Or is my life still left?
I hear naught
I see naught
I feel naught
I smell naught
I taste naught
Am I nothing?
Are you nothing?
There's nothing left
I sense nothing
I know nothing
This must mean I am nothing
It must mean you are nothing
Am I nobody?
Like a myth
Like a legend
Like a story
Does this make everything I've said
And done
And felt
Unreal
Like a dream
Or a story
Or a thought
So it never happened?
You didn't make me love you?
You didn't hurt me?
You didn't make me cry?
Make me bleed?
Make me suffer?
You didn't leave me there
On the street
On a sidewalk
So I could bleed out?
You didn't hold a knife?
You didn't violate me?
You didn't kill me?
You didn't walk away?
You didn't lie?
I didn't exist meaning
You didn't exist so
You must not have
Meaning
I am not dead because
I just never existed
And you are not alive
Because you never existed
We are just nothing
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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Senseless
Clouds of blue
And skies of white;
The moon by day
The sun by night;
Contradictions in thought and word
So much mental confusion, as
Voices speak, unheard.
'There's a purpose and a plan'
- so some say -
Though hard to perceive in the modern age;
Earth can be a madhouse
We're all quite insane,
Each running amuck
Shouting his or her own name,
So many want to be #1
In the world's eyes,
Foolishly blundering in and out of
Endless empty lies.
Where shall it all end
Where will it stop,
At the drug store
Or the corner doughnut shop?
Anyway we cover the pain
It still will not die,
No matter how hard
Or what any of us try.
It'll all continue to unravel
Right up to the moment
In sudden silence we find,
Alone,
We've run out of arrogance
We've run out of time.
All the lies told
All the souls so cheaply sold,
Won't be worth a damn
Compared to an honest, humble woman or man.
Lying in the grave
What will we do
With all the money we've made.......
Buy a fancy casket
To hide in the ground,
Hoping somehow
To never be found?
It's all so senseless
This self-centeredness,
There has got to be a bigger plan
A true purpose, a real reason for man.
What has happened
To the memory of
The meek shall inherit the earth,
What has become
Of the gift of humility
Given to each at birth?
I'm a little confused
A little bit down'
Not sure of what I see
All about, and all around:
If God is to be trusted,
Why do we so often beg for money;
If everything is so damn serious
Why does it all seem so funny?
-Sometimes, I'd like to just go to sleep.
Not wake for twenty years.
Come out the other side
Far, far away from all my doubts, all my fears.
There to enjoy life
Have some true, pure fun,
Walk away from the clouds of gloom,
Go dance and play with so many others
In the happy, refreshing sun.
I'd sure like to tell all this to someone
(who cares, and understands)
Without hearing, ' stop dreaming - be realistic ';
And God knows
I certainly don't want to die,
Being merely another meaningless, empty statistic.
For, I don't believe
I'm the only one who feels
We were not created just to endlessly work,
Blindly driving others
And ourselves
Deeper and deeper into the hurt.
Why do people stop laughing,
Even stop smiling?
- Perhaps they've stopped searching,
And stopped trying.
We're called to dance in that sun
We're called to share, laugh and play,
For this there has to be a time
There has to be a way.
Rushing ever ahead of life is senseless.
It is not life's meaning, nor life's reason.
Only the pace of Love is eternity.
And increasing joy its season.
Life is not at all senseless.......
- If only we'd look beyond our own clutching hand,
We may just find God,
And thereby, come to understand:
There is so much more than drudgery and fear to life,
More than what we can simply see...
With no need so often to act like slaves,
For after all, we know, by grace, we truly are free.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Lost To Find My Lot
Lost in a world, that scares me to death,
Lost in a crowd I’m losing my breath,
Lost as a kid, lost as an adult
I feel everything is falling apart and its my fault
Lost as a person, cant find my way
Lost in life every day, Lost in worry
Who am I?
I’ve lived a Lie
Lost to Kindness,
Lost to Love
Lost in the sky,
Like a lonely dove
Lost in thought which I shouldn’t do
It Winds me up,
I can’t get through
Lost to comfort all kind words
Lost to advice that isn’t heard
Lost to those who really care?
All these people always there
Lost in Me, I need a break
Lost in wonder which road should I take?
Lost in a place I don’t know well
Where are you now? There’s no one to tell
Lost here all alone To break these walls
Lost in mind
Lost in soul
Lost memories, there just a hole
Lost family, lost my place
Still yet I’m full of hate
Lost in boredom think I’ll leave
There’s a lot in life I need to achieve
poem by Olivia Braun
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Innocence Lost
I can't relive my life
I can't retrace my tracks
I can't undo what's done
There is no going back
I chased a selfish dream
Did not survey the cost
Illusions disappeared
I've found my innocence lost
Some say it's lessons learned
Some say it's a living life
I say it's choices made
Knowing wrong from right
One night I fought to sleep
In my slumber I turned and tossed
I woke to a cloudy day
And found my innocence lost
Innocent child is a beautiful thing
Secure in her father's arms
Sleeps while a mother sings
There's no way to know
All the harm this world can bring
I miss my innocence
Oh, to be innocent
My heavenly Father
The well of eternal love
That overflows with grace
I can completely trust
My broken heart repaired
And all my sin forgot
I can be pure again
In spite of my innocence lost
In his eyes I'm a newborn child
Cuz I accept his love
I have a newfound hope
Though I've found my innocence lost
I can be pure again
I've found my innocence lost
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Brass Well
'Tis a legend of the bushmen from the days of Cunningham,
When he opened up the country and the early squatters came.
Tis the old tale of a fortune missed by men who did seek,
And, perhaps, you haven’t heard it—The Brass Well on Myall Creek.
They were north of running rivers, they were south of Queensland rains,
And a blazing drought was scorching every grass-blade from the plains;
So the stockmen drove the cattle to the range where there was grass,
And a couple sunk a well and found what they believed was brass.
‘Here’s some bloomin’ brass!’ they muttered when they found it in the clay,
And they thought no more about it and in time they went away;
But they heard of gold, and saw it, somewhere down by Inverell,
And they felt and weighed it, crying: ‘Why! we found it in the well!’
And they worked about the station and at times they took the track,
Always meaning to save money, always meaning to go back—
‘Always meanin’,’ like the bushmen, who go drifting round like wrecks,
And they’d get half way to Myall, strike a pub and blew their cheques.
Then they told two more about it and those other two grew old,
And they never found the brass well and they never found the gold.
For the scrub grows dense and quickly and, though many went to seek,
No one ever struck the lost track to the Well on Myall Creek.
And the story is forgotten and I’m sitting here, alas!
With a woeful load of trouble and a woeful lack of brass;
But I dream at times that I might find what many went to seek,
And my luck might lead my footsteps to the Well at Myall Creek.
poem by Henry Lawson
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42 (Vivekananda) The Public Opinion
The young Vivekananda,
The unknown monk of India,
Suddenly became a popular
Religious man the World over.
In the Chicago streets,
His life-size portraits,
Attracted many passers-by
Who stopped close-by.
With all due reverence,
They bowed their heads
In front of the portrait,
And paid their respect.
What he meant by Vedas,
Was those spiritual laws
Discovered by many seers
During various periods
Even before they found,
Those laws really existed;
Seers discovered them
From time to time.
“The law of gravitation,
Was it a new invention?
No, it did exist before
And will exist thereafter.”
This example he quoted,
For the spiritual world,
That had its own laws,
Those found later by seers.
The Chairman of Parliament
Dr J.H. Barrows, in his statement
Appreciated Swamiji’s influence
O’er the entire audience.
One Newspaper flashed,
“After hearing him, to send
Missionaries to this learned nation
Will be a foolish action.”
In the Parliament of Religion,
He was a center of attraction.
To make the audience sit,
His speech was kept last.
They all waited for hours
There to hear his words
Eagerly, as a special case,
Just for fifteen minutes
The son of the Indian Nation
Earned such a glorification,
The whole country felt proud
When, the news, Indians heard.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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