The Endearment Past
I have tried to endeavour
Some endurable facts.
But never forgot a relevant
Laud of the endearment past
The tendency of some glee moments
Of such cruel bars, but never forgot
A relevant of endearment past!
The paroxysm of the cruel newt
And the wasted time of waster,
A scrawl book of school,
Like I was companionless as a
New comer of different birth.
But never forgot a relevant
Brunt of the endearment past.
I've had a group of some human beings
Without battered souls,
The bond of changing of those;
Battered situations……………
Has killed me at once.
It is my hard bitten promise!
I never forgot the relevant of
The endearment past.
poem by Jayanta Banerjee
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Related quotes
Am I Relevant?
Am I relevant?
I am not afraid to keep current.
I am not worrying about any egos to massage.
Or pretenses to keep hidden.
Am I relevant?
Well...
I am not trying to keep reality,
From intoxicated surburbanites!
Doing their best to smile through their agonies!
Am I relevant?
Should I care to be?
And who's life would change if I wasn't?
If I should stop being topical...
Would that mean I would prefer cartoons,
Over current events?
Would that mean I would ignore,
The time I've spent...
Watching others pollute minds,
As I sat on my behind...
Complaining 'why' someone can't find,
A way to restrict
Those with loose lips...
From preventing ignorance,
The freedom of contaminating truths...
By the soothing use,
Of complete and total censorship!
Am I relevant?
I like to think of myself as not being constipated!
Or overdone with fantasies outdated,
To bait disappointments!
I like to keep fresh...
And controversial!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It is time for the world, the hemisphere and the region to make sure that relevant institutions of civil society and relevant laws are embedded in the mechanisms of governance.
quote by Baldwin Spencer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have to keep up with the scientific literature as part of my job, but increasingly I found myself reading things that weren't really relevant to my academic work, but were relevant to gardening.
quote by Ken Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Forgot my childhood
I forgot the streets in which I used to walk……
I forgot the senseless things I used to talk…….
I forgot the joy of completing all homework……
After which I had no other work…..
I forgot the nights thunder would scare…....
On toys when I used to stare………..
I forgot the time I used to play…..
With dust and clay
poem by Harshal Joshi
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My employer was never at any time aware of anything in my past beyond the writing I did, because, frankly, it isn't relevant to the job I was asked to do, which was to be a reporter.
quote by Jeff Gannon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Relevant?
What is relevant?
Only that which is deemed important,
By those who arrive 'first'...
At an event.
And establish the atmosphere,
Those who come later...
Condone and consent.
And...
Based upon the influence they have,
With the host...
The ones looking through windows,
And gossiping amongst themselves...
As to what's going on inside,
While they observe those gliding from side to side...
With a reading of their lips.
Makes not a bit of a difference,
To those within the inner circle.
Snobbing their noses as if to smell adversing scents.
And whatever is going on inside and with them invited,
Is relevant.
Anything else,
Is regarded as a nuisance that is tolerated to exist.
With an agitated annoyance expressed.
And this message is clearly sent.
If you are not amongst those invited to be inside,
Guess what...?
You are not relevant!
That's it!
Wake up, make it and taste the coffee.
From your own cup.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In any event, the proper question isn't what a journalist thinks is relevant but what his or her audience thinks is relevant. Denying people information they would find useful because you think they shouldn't find it useful is censorship, not journalism.
quote by Michael Kinsley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Three Generations
No man can be relevant
After three generations.
A few might be relevant
After two generations.
Most of men are forgotten
Within their generations.
If at all a name exists
After three generations
It is as good as irrelevant
As his progeny would branch
Out beyond the traceability.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Siege
Your love threw me
In the land of wonders.
It took me by surprise
From my neck
While I was
At my preferred café,
At my preferred table,
While I was teasing my poems,
While my poems were teasing me.
I forgot my preferred café
And I forgot my preferred table
I forgot my poems
I forgot whom I was teasing
And who was teasing me.
.
Your love surprised me
While I was reading my hand
For luck
And fate.
I forgot my hand,
I forgot my luck,
And I forgot my fate.
Your love invaded me
the same way a tsunami
Invaded the moon
In its ecliptic wedding
With the sun.
I woke up weak
Thirsty,
And thirty million light years faraway
From my birth galaxy.
I forgot the moon,
I forgot the sun,
I forgot the wedding
And I forgot my birth galaxy.
Your love surprised me
Like the Christ surprised the ancient world
I forgot Christ
And I forgot the ancient world.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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A prodigal
My heart forgot its God for love of you,
And you forgot me, other loves to learn;
Now through a wilderness of thorn and rue
Back to my God I turn.
And just because my God forgets the past,
And in forgetting does not ask to know
Why I once left His arms for yours, at last
Back to my God I go.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Dementia
My mother forgot how to swallow.
Before that, she lost my face and my name,
erased from her memory by sickness and age.
Her nurses complained she took too long to feed
They wanted a peg and a tube for the deed
My mother forgot how to swallow
She forgot her late spouse, disremembered her vow.
With the loss of the past there is no here and now.
Once she read to my child, then my girl read to her-
Until all the sounds were a meaningless blur
My mother forgot how to swallow
Jesus and Mary and her patron saint
would loved to have helped her, so weak and so faint,
but she had forgotten the simplest prayer -
the beads in her hand little use to her here.
My mother forgot how to swallow
The night nurses found her while making their round
She was cold to the touch, no pulse to be found
She stared, eyes wide open, at the cross on the wall
Perhaps the Messiah had come after all.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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I Forgot
Hey, it’s been so long since I have seen you.
I had to think awhile just to remember you.
I forgot the brightness in your smile.
I forgot gleam that shines in your eyes.
I forgot the soft sweet taste of your lips.
I forgot the way you used to make me move my hips.
But wait minute before you try to ease in my arms.
Because I do remember why we did part.
I remember the harsh names that you used to call me.
I remember the hurt you used to cause me.
I remember the last time we were together and you
nearly choked me to death. So you can keep
on walking cause the abuse I remember.
Don’t you even think that I forgot?
How
I want to be a great poet
But how I forgot word sentence
Letter grammer so on and so on.
I want to say my story your story
But how I forgot the home the body
land water air sky fire so on and so on.
I do not want to be here at this moment
But how I forgot to live in the playground
With the children with the buds of garden.
I do not to go anywhere at any point of time
But how I forgot to explain the reason
That are within that I have not done.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Relevant It Isn't
The cost of living
Getting out of reach.
The English language,
Taught in schools...
Becoming overruled,
As not the only language to be used.
Outsourcing now is an acronym for loss.
While those on foreign shores,
Rule as the new boss.
Relevant it isn't!
Not to those blind to this.
Values once upheld and shared.
Standards of life disrespected and bared.
Crime and corruption now seduces like a treat.
And welcomed like a lost friend,
Eager to meet on urban streets.
Relevant it isn't.
Not to those blind to this.
Trapped in racist sentiments.
Mindlessness connecting this.
A consciousness limited to selfishness!
Self examinations go dismissed.
A finger pointing is quick to lift.
Relevant it isn't.
Not to those blind to this!
Politics dropping lives like flies.
Using alibis to deny a truth that hides.
And whose interests are left in the banks to dry?
Relevant it isn't.
Not to those blind to this!
But to those demystisfied...
Can not cry enough teardrops,
From their swollen eyes!
It's the pitifulness of it,
They wish can be admitted with this weeping!
Dripping like rain...
But gaining little attention,
From those drugged and entertained
By their own self importance.
And 'that' to them,
Is the only relevance that makes sense.
And even that has weakened in priority.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If Jesus Christ was who He claimed to be, and He did die on a cross at a point of time in history, then, for all history past and all history future it is relevant because that is the very focal point for forgiveness and redemption.
quote by Josh McDowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still there's a little room in my heart forYou!
I hear an innermost sad psalm from a faraway weeping heart of a Sakura flower!
You sent us the unsolicited Tsunami
And the mighty Earth Quake!
But you never trained us
How to survive from the cruel endearment!
Anyway we're the poor souls
Still burn the fragrant incense
And melting candles on our depose heart altar
From the last Yen remains in our survived wallets!
But where are you in our hardest Catastrophe!
*One man with courage is a majority.
-Andrew Jackson
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The comeback kid (song)
The comeback kid
~
I walked into am ambush I was overrun
Got caught out by feelings and thoughts
Led to into a limbo dance I became mystified
And this was just the beginning
~
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a comeback to behold
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a place to come back to
~
They say in every song there is a story
In every poem a tale is hid from view
The are many things we will come to say
And I guess that is just our little way
~
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a comeback to behold
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a place to come back to
~
Now where do we go from here
It’s a situation I am not used to
I’m all confused I have no clue
Can you take my hand, lead me from here
To where’ve you wish to
~
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a comeback to behold
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a place to come back to
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a comeback to behold
I forgot about love, then remembered you
What a place to come back to
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Open Book's Monologue Part 4 Bookkeeping
Regular written books or a regular written novel
Could sell
But each copy would essentially be the same
And the words stagnant, unable to change, in a sense lame
Because they cannot move or rearrange
They just never change
But I guess even though I'm an open book that's where we differ
My words do change, and my past is rewritten
When my memories become hazy or hidden
Suddenly I've changed my past, said something different to her
Or him, or supposedly done an action that never did occur.
When witnesses balk and there is no vindication
Nor affirmation
It's hard to keep my memories truthfully
Call me a liar for changing them, but that's me
Bookkeeping is near impossible
Because rewriting my beginnings is possible
It's hard to remember what's fact or fiction
When this novel is just a fantastical rendition
Of what I think my life is or thought my life was
Not what it really is or really was
I think it's because
Those unhappy memories of the past ought
Just to be forgot
So I choose (o so subconsciously) to rewrite them
Only to find they've made my destiny
They've made me- me
It's funny that I write of bookkeeping
And changing the beginning of the book
When I feel so strongly
That such things are impossible for me
So in a sense this poem is a contradiction
But then maybe my changes are just my perception
Of my story because I cannot look back
So I guess I'm wrong... future and past are stained in black
Because as a book I could change what I think
Maybe even float not sink
But that's just my perception, because my story
Is actually
The Immutable tragedy
The tragedy of me
And past... present... future
They won't endure
One day pages will crumble to dust
But I think... I'll go first... Actually I think.... I think...
I must.
poem by David Knox
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Seven
I forgot what my father said
I forgot what he said
I forgot what my mother said
As we layed on your bed
A city full of flowers
A city full of rain
I got seven days to live my life or seven ways to die
I forgot what my brother said
I forgot what he said
I dont regret anything at all
I remember how he wept
On a bridge of violent people
I was small enough to cry
I got seven days to live my life or seven ways to die
Hold my face before you
Still my trembling heart
Seven days to live my life or seven ways to die
The gods forgot they made me
So I forgot them to
I listen to their shadows
I play among their graves
My heart is never broken
My patience never tried
I got seven days to live my life or seven ways to die
Seven days to live my life or saven ways to die
Seven
Seven
Seven
Seven
Seven
Seven
Seven
Seven
Seven
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Forgot More Than Youll Ever Know
I forgot more than youll ever know about her.
You think you know the smile on her lips
The thrill and the touch of her fingertips
But I forgot more than youll ever know about her.
You think youll find heaven of bliss
In each caress, in each tender kiss
But I forgot more than youll ever know about her.
You stole her love from me one day
You didnt care, oh, it hurt me
But you can never steal away memories of what used to be.
You think shes yours, to have and to hold
Someday youll learn, when her love grows cold
But I forgot more than youll ever know about her.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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