Where Was The Pen?
they came
visiting in
the night
dazzling
lines from
the divine
they glistened
in the fashion
of crystal clear
water, out to sea
meteor bypassing earth
here i am
in full regret
holding on
to a golden
moment
without
the gold
lines never
to come
knocking
again
and my pen
where was it?
where was it?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes
An Exhortation On Some Lines....
something is missing in your lines.
i regret to tell you that.
it does not speak well of yourself
or the world
or any moment, it is like a desert and all we have is space and
a horizon
there is even no wind to blow the sands away
i do not expect rain in the desert
but i could have seen a camel or a line of trucks or a
caravan
or even a Bedouin riding on his black horse with a scimitar
here i am again
in my worst self trying to tell you what to do so that you can be what you are
your lines are straight and too clean and that make them appear
dishonest
people love crooked lines and those that move in free directions
lines that are cold like the wind
and yet vibrant at night
not really dead, but simply grieving in silence for the loss of
someone so loved and missed.
i do not want you to change your lines, they are yours to
show,
i may be unfair wishing that your lines may be like mine
but mine are too sad and always sounding like a lover abandoned.
the beautiful lines are not clean.
they are imbued with our errors, erasures, blasting in our faces
like explosives
where shattered as we are on the fields of our disasters
only in a few seconds
we become silent spaces again.
mine are sad, and lonely and abandoned.
they are the only ones i have now, and so i must be compelled to
have them and love them
just the way they are.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mistake
it was a different thing that you see
from that you feel
a war between the bulge of the eyes
and the pumps of the heart
the lines of the palms are clear
nobody wants to mind now
in the middle of too much desire
it is the heart that wins
slashing the blinks of the wondering eyes
the lines of the palms are clear
there is no doubt
the heart bleeds upon its mistake
and begins to remember the veils
and the sonorous sounds of the funeral bells of
the little town
the lines of the palms are clear
there is no doubt about it
at the end every part shall accept the fate
no regret
once again the self rides upon the wings of destiny
until the final word of the years rest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tear Tram Lines
This town has lost its sparkle,
The stars have lost their shine,
This town’s too full of echoes,
And my face too full of lines.
The shore has lost its tide,
The waves have lost their rhyme,
This town’s too full of tears,
And my smile too full of lines.
The clock has stopped it’s ticking
My feet dance out of time,
This town’s too full of yesterdays,
And my frown too full of lines
The cinema’s showing it’s last reel,
The pubs have all called time,
This towns too full of actors
And my script too full of unread lines….
Crystal Clear
How do you feel now? I want to know
Clear as crystal, I can see your face
In my glass of water, I can see your face
How do you feel know? I want to know
Does your love burn like a summer's day
Or is it still on hold in an ice cube tray?
Clear as crystal
How do you feel now? I want to know
Clear as crystal, I can see your face
In my glass of water? I can see your face
Winter has passed now, did you ever know?
Is your love forming like the springtime
Or is it still a snowdrop in the snow so fine?
Clear as crystal
Clear as crystal, I can see your face
In a glass of water, you can see your face
How do you feel know, I want to know
Now I can see you so crystal clear
Crystal clear
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Solidarity In Lines
unemployment lines
lines of books
Lines of cocaine
Food stamp lines
Theater lines
Grocery store
car wash
school children
Soup kitchen
club
abortion clinic
Delicatessen
traffic lines
crosswalks
Traffic Jam
Lines on a map
Jules gets home and un-loads his rucksack
Gods laziness
Because of the machines and computers we will all end up lonely human beings
poem by Jerome Moore
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As full lines of battle could not be handled through the thick wood, I ordered the advance of the six brigades by heavy skirmish lines, to be followed by stronger supporting lines.
quote by James Longstreet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Fragments Of Water
Cool earthenware pot
holding water as if it were
love that slopped & lapped
over its top
full to the brim
wearing with pride
the touch of your fingerprints
still visible
from its making
one lost windy night
the fierceness of its blue glaze
and now it contains
summer
and this blessed coolness
of water
on this the hottest
day
green grass
becoming yellow
under the heat's gaze
and the angry voices
drifting out of an open
upstairs window
becoming lost amongst
thorns and their roses
bleeding into noon
our anger knocking over
all the things we made
seeing our earthenware pot
cool to the touch
& full to the lip with love
like water
fall through the air
becoming only shattered shards
an emptiness
that cannot be
contained no longer
for one moment in its falling
the water held
containerless
between Heaven & earth
before dashing itself
upon the floor
broken fragments
of water
(a voice screaming: 'It's
over...it's over! ')
broken fragments
of water
scattered here and there
splashes of lost love
love lost
lost love.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Poem about Poetry - The Great Poet, The Sea
the sea is a great poet
a giant pot of ink
which it writes out lines
that sparkle in emerald
by day and black by night
throw her the moon
and the lunar lady
immediately becomes a
dancing star beating a
path to our heart in
her graceful glowing shroud
throw her the sun
and you bet van gogh would
even put his brush
and Sunflowers away
to be inspired by its
breathtaking dazzling lines
throw her the wind
and the sea immediately
grins with a million lips
singing a song of gratitude
to the almighty
throw her the gulls
and their glorious white
would swing to a verse of
shining metaphors
- young ballet dancers trailblazing through
the rough and tumble world of showbiz
throw her a a ship
and it will rock you
the fashion of a new mom
for its babe in a cradle
wishing it would bring
babe to wherever he wants to be
by day or by night
be by the Sea
as it painstakingly works
on its verse
line by line
swish and swosh
swish and swosh
swish and swosh
never tires of trying
to impress a visitor
of its divine calling
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The River
In my first sleep
I came to the river
And looked down
Through the clear water -
Only in dream
Water so pure,
Laced and undulant
Lines of flow
On its rocky bed
Water of life
Streaming for ever.
A house was there
Beside the river
And I, arrived,
An expected guest
About to explore
Old gardens and libraries -
But the car was waiting
To drive me away.
One last look
Into that bright stream -
Trout there were
And clear on the bottom
Monster form
Of the great crayfish
That crawls to the moon.
On its rocky bed
Living water
In whorls and ripples
Flowing unbended.
There was the car
To drive me away.
We crossed the river
Of living water -
I might not stay,
But must return
By the road too short
To the waiting day.
In my second dream
Pure I was and free
By the rapid stream,
My crystal house the sky,
The pure crystalline sky.
Into the stream I flung
A bottle of clear glass
That twirled and tossed and spun
In the water's race
Flashing the morning sun.
Down that swift river
I saw it borne away,
My empty crystal form,
Exultant saw it caught
Into the current's spin,
The flashing water's run.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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Time Lines
i have said nothing for time wont allow me.
time lines... time lines... time lines, what i felt for you has turned to confusion.
as time lines up our times together worry overshadows my 'influenced' judgement.
time lines..
our future perfectly sealed for i filled my heart with your promises.
time outlined your feelings for me..
times we spent together seem so far away like the times of the early bud.
our love has lost its will to florish like juliets rose.
time has outlined my affection for you.
time lines.. time lines..
the memories we once cherished together, the lines that have been put between us by time have destroyed the love once shared by you and me.
time has been thought to mend broken hearts ALAS, it has made matters worse.
time lines me and you. time lined our fate through spectatr critiques.
we possess souls joint together by time, YET its time that divides us.
time took its tole on our love.
is this forbidden love? that time has outlined
time lines my emotions of love for you..
time lines my emtions.
time lines.... time lines
poem by Njube Nangamso
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An Elocution....
we read
between the lines
we pause
we take in a lot of the other
we read them and they become a part of
our innards
we pause and we take sleep
a journey
into an imbibing
the roads are too many
but we choose only one
not necessarily the happy one
we take what
is only necessary
we take the stairs one by one
we count each
sorrow we leave each happy moment
like a landmark
we always surge
like a bus into the other end of the road
that never ends
we read between the lines
we become what is
between them
we do not understand how we become
we just become
buds, flowers, bees and
pools of
clear water
we are flowing and drained
we exude and then
we go
until we are finally gone
and we have forgotten
to ask who we are
and so
what right have we to
deserve the
answers
we go, and then we are finally gone
we are never
anyone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poet Became His Own Poetry
A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY
A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.
A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Deux Parallele
Two parallel lines, two parallel lines
why can't they intertwine?
Osculating endlessly in an oblivious dream
Protracting incessantly, continuing as they seem
Arduoulsy crisscrossing, but they try not
Restless, unfortunate and strange-they intersect-a lot
Abhorrent, one line was assentient
Lines that shouldn't have met-but with Fate's consent
Languishing now, they converge-supposedly inexorable
Envisaging an unbounded union, then one line fumbles
Lines- these two lines now distorted and twisted
Lonely and longing, their common point, now ill-fated
Inelastic, these two lines- concurrent and disentangled
Nevermore will these two lines meet and form the Angle
Excogitating now, these two lines, victims of fate
Saved...these two lines be, once parallel, intersecting, can only wait
poem by Pete Zaesar Galula
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FOR M. (Just For Fun)
geometry starts with a
dot, and since the dot travels a lot
more lines are made
not contented the lines make
shapes
others enclose themselves
like walls and
churches others spread like
the lines of a map
reaching for countries and
people and
all the nooks of the earth
since then the world is
thankful for a dot
that hopes for spaces and skies
and light and
speed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Taste
Im up and I can take what you give
And Im here but I dont want you to live with me
'cause all I want is a taste for free
Im down and I will drag you along and around
Until you burst into song and unwind
And leave your new life behind for a while
Cause I can see through the lines
Cause I can see through the lines
Im down and I will drag you along and around
Until you burst into song and unwind
And leave your new life behind for a while
Im out and I will stay here alone and without
Someone controlled by the phone and tv
'cause what its doing to me is fine
Cause I can see through the lines
Cause I can see through the lines
Oooh oooh
Step into space
Oooh oooh
Alter my place
Oooh oooh
That someone else made
Why I have stayed
Into things I could be
Or if I could see
Into fog that surrounds
And pins me to the ground
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With the smell of turpentine
With the smell of turpentine
and paint in front of the fireplace
you paint magical lines
with blue, green and gold
and I look at you
while brush strokes
like magic make abstract images appear.
The Creator must have looked like this
while He looked at the world
while building it
and I see your golden eyes
looking carefully at the painting
and at times you frown
while you try to draw perfect lines
and light and colour
create magical feelings
and flow into each other
and you build shade and depth.
Gasping for breath lovely are you
while your fingers play with the brush
and there are more than curves and lines
from which your beauty comes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Emotional Geography 70
BROKEN lines, with a crazy smile,
eyes pointed up, towards the
burning sun.IS this it, you yell
at GOD, or just another bad trip.
BROKEN lines with some happy dust,
a woman sits by herself, with her
pipe, and drugs, is this it, she
yells at GOD, or just another bad
trip.
BROKEN lines mend as one, they
wash there bodies in the water
of GOD, is this it, they both yell,
yes says the king, now go back
home.
BROKEN lines, with crazy smiles...
poem by David Gerardino
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