If Choice is Choice
Intense the sense of pattern which the mind
Never ceases weaving as the Way
Advances over Time and rhyme to find
Meaning's meanings simple, sure, yet fey.
Ideas presented well, thoughts underlined, -
No superficiality where they
Allow free range - as spirit well designed
Marks space to place wor[l]d catalysts which may -
If choice is choice not circumstance designed -
New windows open through which interplay
Another, and another insight wind
Make constant progress through syllabic play.
INfinite our opportunities
MAy tendrils touch, find much soul further frees...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Choice Voice
Ideas, ideals, freethinking underlined,
no negligence can know whenever they
allow free range where spirit well designed
marks space to catalyse choice chance which may -
if choice is choice not circumstance designed -
new windows open through which interplay
another to another insight wind,
make constant progress, interwoven play.
Infinite voice, choice opportunities
new ground may break, stake scope, whole soul hope frees.
(17 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Searching Inner Space
Searching now for inner space
Sure one day to find the place
What means of travel does one face
This journey from the human race
Listen sounds to tell the way
Or wait the stars to show way
Doth the soul to body say
Suppress all fears felt today
If it's thought that moves the man
Act as if your thoughts still can
God designed this travel well
So we can move through heav'n or hell
Take a trip a different kind
Open channels in your mind
Inner space you soon will find
Is god and you intertwined
The choice is yours all's been planned
You can move through thought command
Meditate and learn first hand
Your mind controls this world so grand
poem by Daniel Lloyd Kennedy
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Time Trap
Juxtaposition in an active mind:
unstretched potential and a spirit free
seek space to taste then test eternity,
leaving wasted years far, far behind.
Intense the need for speed, choice voice must find,
before too late, - an opportunity
tuned to new horizons’ patterned key.
Before too late... life its own double bind
sees night light follow as Time’s skeins unwind,
as most is swallowed, soon forgotten, - we,
today ahead, tomorrow sped, can’t flee
Nature’s mortal paradox designed.
Whether open, closed, the intellect
self justifies through merge-urge to project...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Guess
i guess
loneliness is a self-inflicted
catastrophe,
a choice of ruin,
sometimes, a place
of pain
where the mind is trained
for the greatness
of his spirit
loneliness is
sacrifice, a choice to
find a place for the
purification of the soul
this soul that is so strange
amid the market of confluences
of happiness and lust
and insensitivity
it chooses this
loneliness, silenced silence,
silent patience,
patiently coping with the meaning
of one's existence
gauging the limits of the
happy mind
penetrating the wall of
prohibition,
genuflecting on
nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Moderns
To many reading modern poetry more interesting the meaning in the metaphors they seek to find
They feel it makes their brains work that much harder that it is good exercise for the mind
Rhyme for their great brains seems that bit too simple it does not test their thinking power at all
'Tis not a poem to them if it seems simple and the meaning in it easy to recall,
Yes rhyme for them it does seem that bit simple and deciphering it to them is not a test
The hidden meaning in the metaphors is something that does seem to try them best
Rhyme poetry to them is too simple and far too easy for to understand
It has to be blank verse with dozens of metaphors for their interest for to command
They look on rhyme and bush poets as inferior their preference in poets and poetry they make known
On literature they air their opinions like it is said to each their own
Their poetry evenings do seem quite exclusive rhyme poets to read they never do invite
Their unmusical lines that are laced with metaphors to each other they do recite
They do not like rhyme or they do not like bush poetry to them it is of another time
And in their poetry evenings there is no place for the men and the women of rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What Your Soul Sings
Sinead O'Connor :
Dont be afraid
Open your mouth to say
Say what your soul sings to you
Your mind can never change
Unless you ask it to
Lovingly rearrange
The thoughts that make you blue
The things that bring you down
Can only do harm to you
And so make your choice joy
The joy belongs to you
And when you do
You'll find the one you love is you
You'll find you
Love yeah
Dont be ashamed
To open your heart and pray
Say what your soul sings to you
So no longer pretend
That you cant feel it near
That tickle in your head
That tingle in your ear
Oh ask it anything
Because it loves you dear
Its your most precious king
If only you can hear
And when you do
Youll find the one you need is here
Youll find you
Love you
song performed by by Massive Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am a beggar; I have a choice, but
I am a beggar; I have a choice, but
I have been begging since long
Since the time I started realizing
As to what I am doing
I beg, again, to differ
With the common phrasing that
Beggars have no choice
I decide my beneficiary,
The one who is given the opportunity of
Lending me a help, however minor it may be
I do not beg everyone passing by
I choose my potential helper
By his/her look, gait, and what is going on in his/her mind
I can do mind reading too
I can make out that
Someone is in a hurry to a workplace
Someone is much relaxed
Someone is sure of what is ahead
Someone is working out details of investment
Someone is planning a great spending
Someone is worried with health issues of someone in family
And so on
This mind reading helps me decide my beneficiary
I may not get the help each time is
Another story
But, note I have a choice
I know where I will get free food matching my taste
I know when to go which temple
For the midday mercy meals
Again, I have a choice
I decide also the place where I beg
Temple entries are good fetching
Mosque entries on Fridays
Church entries on Sundays
Provide me with resources more than what I need
See, I have a choice
I see great opportunities for examining my own self
When I beg
The inner me coming closer to me
As others go away from me
For fear of being asked for help
I do not see these opportunities
With most of others
Who rush to somewhere
Toil for fixed hours as assigned to them
Wait for alms at the end
The only thing I do to get help is
To ask for it
I am happy with what I am doing
I am a beggar; I have a choice, but
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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I On Transit
Upon the cusp of choice and chance,
stagnation's stigma or advance,
the heart must choose though bear in mind
a view holistic, leave behind
judgemental values and askance
eye 'easy' answers, tempting, kind.
Life's finite, if it be romance,
a vote for freedom, high finance,
unbiased ethics underlined
should be to key to Time's wave, find
in time and place trace to enhance
true intuitions, to unwind
the waft and weft whose patterns dance
for which few spare a second glance,
piece jigsaw fractals recombined
into kaleidoscope refined.
Stay not a slave of circumstance,
enhance free-will with shine enshrined.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Beyond The Ken 1183
Kindness, yes, beyond the ken of most,
Is there to share yet care would ever take
So none may suffer through unsought mistake,
So none may rough her, too, unthoughtful boast.
Intense, with sense beyond, - where others coast
New speed she needs to feed the inner lake
Grow flow to sow a future where partake
Each found in each, with shared respect foremost
Reciprocated, - free voice, choice to post.
Immense the overview who'd senses slake
Song true to find, though mind defenses make
ERrors at times, - the tears the Past did host.
In true emancipation of the whole
She'll find the parts to fit completed soul.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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ana's song
Please die Ana
For as long as you're here we're not
You make the sound of laughter
and sharpened nails seem softer
And I need you now somehow
And I need you now somehow
Open fire on the needs designed
On my knees for you
Open fire on my knees desires
What I need from you
I'magine pageant
In my head the flesh seems thicker
Sandpaper tears corrode the film
And I need you now somehow
And I need you now somehow
Open fire on the needs designed
On my knees for you
Open fire on my knees desires
What I need from you
And you're my obsession
I love you to the bones
And Ana wrecks your life
Like an Anorexia life
Open fire on the needs designed
On my knees for you
Open fire on my knees desires
What I need from you
Open fire on the needs designed
Open fire on my knees desires
On my knees for you
song performed by by Silverchair from neon ballroom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shortness And Choices
a simple line
following a simple rhyme
from a simple man.... here to say
that there is always a choice you can always choose just like me
you can do it willingly
there is always a choice there is o yes just read this and know that
there is reason for everything debacle, every chat,
EVERYTHING, there is a reason yet always a choice just think
on this and don't care to even read simply know there is choice and reason
poem by David Knox
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Find Rest My Soul In Lyric’s Chime
Find rest my soul in lyric’s chime,
Refreshed anew by making rhyme.
It’s course my thoughts direct the paths
That make my mind to sing.
When all the world in chaos sways
A refuge here I find.
I feel my mind has wings.
With pen and poem I find new ways,
To speak to all mankind.
My poems, my thoughts, I find may last;
My world renewed by taking time,
With rest refreshed by making rhyme.
10/17/05
poem by Gary Bryson
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The Art of a well-developed genius is far different from the Artfulness of the Understanding, of the merely reasoning mind. Shakespeare was no calculator, no learned thinker; he was a mighty, many-gifted soul, whose feelings and works, like products of Nature, bear the stamp of the same spirit; and in which the last and deepest of observers will still find new harmonies with the infinite structure of the Universe; concurrences with later ideas, affinities with the higher powers and senses of man. They are emblematic, have many meanings, are simple and inexhaustible, like products of Nature; and nothing more unsuitable could be said of them than that they are works of Art, in that narrow mechanical acceptation of the word.
quote by Novalis
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Nothing From The Almighty Do I Hide
The journey taken I've made,
Is not paved with purity.
Nor are my experiences free...
From temptating transgressions.
My choice to live the life I've been given,
Is just that!
My choice.
And adventure I will...
No matter who voices 'what' opinion!
I alone face obstacles I am presented.
And when those consequences come...
I am not one to run away,
In denial or allow myself to be subjected...
To a trial of those self righteous in the hiding,
Of their deceits.
To have others believe they live lives,
Without mistakes made!
I have made many.
I am not complete.
I am a work in progress.
And My Creator knows this.
And 'nothing' from The Almighty do I hide!
Nor do I wish to make the attempt to do so.
I am too much in love with this spirit...
To try to convince my life lived is perfect!
It aint.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Entry
“Welcome to our new world family”
Words sounded me good and not silly
It created deep impact on mind
I though of gesture to be nice and kind
New entrants will find it very difficult
New environment with different cult
Readers, friends, pattern also new
May be new approach was definitely due
How to speak about one’s mind?
People may not take it lightly and turn eyes blind
It may be possible they may not accept and rescind
Still it has to be honest attempt and way to find
I cut joke and call self as Jadia or fat
May not go in ground to play cricket with bat
At the most they may cut joke and hate
I have no reason to feel amused and state
I have always felt that jokes are good medicines
As disease disappear after taking vaccines
Jokes and loud laugh make blood to rush in vanes
Fresh air and wind make trees to bend in by lanes
Does the honesty pay in the long run?
Can anything be extracted at the point of gun?
What role does the comments and feed back play?
Beautiful ideas to float and make it relay
I may love to be part of large community
It will have its impact and continuity
New concept, ideas may find the real place
Right place and recognition without any race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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We Can Sing The Same Songs
we can sing each other the same songs
on the radio.
meaning overwhelms reality
sometimes.
magic circumvents
identity.
i could believe that i was made for him...
i could believe he summonsed me,
called me forth, a spirit;
forth from some abyss
to do his bidding,
forth from my stone crysalis
to become
what he might need.
i could believe that i'm some kind
of human robot he has had designed,
with cutting edge technology,
complete with
programmed memories of the past
and poloroids in hand.
i could believe that he sought me,
that he chose me,
that somehow he owns me;
like the earth owns the moon,
like the sky owns the stars.
he holds me, like a gift that is
still in it's wrappings
as tho yet undecided...to open or not
i could believe
most anything,
it seems. i've seen it all.
i've seen identity and will
become abandon in a glance.
my mind relents
allowing space and time
for broader circumstance
as bliss takes on the garment
of belonging.
we can sing each other the same songs on the radio,
meaning overwhelms reality,
sometimes.
magic circumvents
identity
i could believe that he belongs to me.
poem by Moon Batchelder
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From Invisible Places
The flesh is not where the mind is confined.
As if one can observe a thought process occurring.
The mind like one's soul is a 'spirit' designed,
To communicate from invisible places.
And those who meditate within a quietness allowed,
Find themselves connected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Don't Make A Choice
You don't make a choice,
The choice will make you.
Give you a character or brake you into two.
If you face your challenges calmly with an open mind
Knowing that you attracted that kind,
Then you are the only one who can solve it,
When you must, you'll find the answer, you'll have the wit.
If you look for others to fix it for you,
You get into a deeper problem, no matter after what you do.
So, solve your own problem little or big, face life bravely,
Sooner or later you find the way to live easily and happily.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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If you look at the buildings, you'll find that one part looks as if it was designed by one man, and you go around and look at another facade and it looks as if it was designed by another man, you see.
quote by Minoru Yamasaki
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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