Fixed Ideas
RANKS of electroplated cubes, dwindling to glitters,
Like the other pasture, the trigonometry of marble,
Death's candy-bed. Stone caked on stone,
Dry pyramids and racks of iron balls.
Life is observed, a precipitate of pellets,
Or grammarians freeze it into spar,
Their rhomboids, as for instance, the finest crystal
Fixing a snowfall under glass. Gods are laid out
In alabaster, with horny cartilage
And zinc ribs; or systems of ecstasy
Baked into bricks. There is a gallery of sculpture,
Bleached bones of heroes, Gorgon masks of bushrangers;
But the quarries are of more use than this,—
Filled with the rolling of huge granite dice,
Ideas and judgments: vivisection, the Baptist Church,
Good men and bad men, polygamy, birth-control. . . .
Frail tinkling rush
Water-hair streaming
Prickles and glitters
Cloudy with bristles
River of thought
Swimming the pebbles—
Undo, loosen your bubbles
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Related quotes
Perfect Ice Cube Recipe
A cup of cold branch water,
triple filtered, extra dry.
Bring it to a rolling boil-
in a moment you'll see why.
Pour it into ice cube trays
and place it in the freezer
This recipe is tried and true
obtained from an old geezer.
Wait two hours, then remove
the ice cubes from their tray.
Notice they are crystal clear,
never cloudy cracked or grey.
Place some in a six ounce glass
making sure that none are wasted
then add a single malt and sip
the best ice cubes ever tasted.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gold
Theres a mountain and its mighty high
U cannot see the top unless u fly
And theres a molehill of proven ground
There aint no where 2 go if u hang around
Everybody wants 2 sell whats already been sold
Everybody wants 2 tell whats already been told
Whats the use of money if u aint gonna break the mold?
Even at the center of fire there is cold
All that glitters aint gold
All that glitters aint gold, mmm
Theres an ocean of despair
There are people livin there
Theyre unhappy each and every day
But hell is not fashion so what u tryin 2 say?
Everybody wants 2 sell whats already been sold
Everybody wants 2 tell whats already been told
Whats the use of money if u aint gonna break the mold?
Even at the center of fire there is cold
All that glitters aint gold, no no
All that glitters aint gold, no no
Theres a lady, 99 years old
If she led a good life, heaven takes her soul
Now thats a theory and if u dont wanna know
Step aside and make a way 4 those who want 2 go
Everybody wants 2 sell whats already been sold (sold)
Everybody wants 2 tell whats already been told (told)
Whats the use of bein young if u aint gonna get old? (old)
Even at the center of fire there is cold (cold)
All that glitters (glitters) aint gold, no no no no no
All that glitters aint gold
Alright
All that glitters, all that glitters, all that glitters.. aint gold
Na na na na na na na (gold {x4})
Na na na na na na na (gold {x4})
Gold, gold, gold
All that glitters aint gold, gold, gold
All that glitters aint gold, gold, gold (na na na na na na na)
All that glitters aint gold, gold, gold (na na na na na na na)
All that glitters aint gold, oh
Oh yeah
1 2.. 1 2 3, lets go!
(na na na na na na na) {repeat}
U are now an official member of the new power generation
Welcome 2 the dawn
All that glitters aint gold (gold) {repeat & loop}
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Looking For That Blackstone
the black stone is not significant
there is nothing in it that makes you be amazed
it is round and not as shiny as your gem
the diamond that glitters in your hand
the black stone when put beside
become nothing,
but it is my black stone
my silence lives there
my rage is kept there
even my love is there
how can you understand
what i am when the black stone
my essence you do not mind
it is round like the truth
it is hard and harsh like all realities
it is silent like the night
it buries itself somewhere
that place where you have never been to
it is a mere black stone
it is mine alone
i am that
black stone, but you never want to remember
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Turned Into Stone
Change the course of history,
So that the building of rest is absurd.
My gorgon hisses fully in my direction,
The underworld can keep secrets,
But a gorgon hisses in me
All of the secrets of stone,
That I become stone itself.
The history I observed as a child
Made me an angry statue
By scouting this far,
There is no glimmer of hope,
And I revere this.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Temple - What Makes It Of Worth
You may delve down to rock for your foundation piers,
You may go with your steel to the sky
You may purchase the best of the thought of the years,
And the finest of workmanship buy.
You may line with the rarest of marble each hall,
And with gold you may tint it; but then
It is only a building if it, after all,
Isn't filled with the spirit of men.
You may put up a structure of brick and of stone,
Such as never was put up before;
Place there the costliest woods that are grown,
And carve every pillar and door.
You may fill it with splendors of quarry and mine,
With the glories of brush and of pen —
But it's only a building, though ever so fine,
If it hasn't the spirit of men.
You may build such structure that lightning can't harm,
Or one that an earthquake can't raze;
You may build it of granite, and boast that its charm
Shall last to the end of all days.
But you might as well never have builded at all,
Never cleared off the bog and the fen,
If, after it's finished, its sheltering wall
Doesn't stand for the spirit of men.
For it isn't the marble, nor is it the stone
Nor is it the columns of steel,
By which is the worth of an edifice known;
But it's something that's living and real.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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We should remember
All that glitters are not gold
To admit it we have to be bold.
All that big are not big
Looking big talking big
Biggish really not big.
Giving a touch one can reach
To the pitch.
Going to the dark
One can see light
All lights are not to sparkle
Not to shine not to glitters.
We have light in our rock-body
That is not to vanish
Not to wear-out
We are not to vanguish.
We are gold cent percent pure
And we are here to glitters
All that glitters are not gold
We should remember we are told.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Snowflake (Tritina)
When the wonder of a hexagon binds
I am caught by the very bright beauty
of a tiny white snowflake that glitters,
that forms a unique pattern that glitters
of which the core intimately binds
with a own texture, sparkle and beauty
that sticks around a grain of dust in beauty
as falling snow that in the air glitter
when water vapour as ice crystals binds;
where it binds with beauty, while it glitters.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Mute Marriages
Mute marriages:
the ten-ton block of ice
obstructing the throat, the heart,
the red filter of the liver,
the clogged life.
It is a glacier
in which frozen children swim
ground round with boulders,
pebbles, bits of stone
from other ice ages.
Here a lapis glitters,
here a shard of bottle glass-
valuables & junk:
the history of a house
told in its garbage cans,
the history of a life
in its nightmares.
Speak the dream.
Follow the red thread
of the images.
Defrost the glacier
with the live heat
of your breath,
propelled by the heart's
explosion.
poem by Erica Jong
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In A Garden
Gushing from the mouths of stone men
To spread at ease under the sky
In granite-lipped basins,
Where iris dabble their feet
And rustle to a passing wind,
The water fills the garden with its rushing,
In the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns.
Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone,
Where trickle and plash the fountains,
Marble fountains, yellowed with much water.
Splashing down moss-tarnished steps
It falls, the water;
And the air is throbbing with it.
With its gurgling and running.
With its leaping, and deep, cool murmur.
And I wished for night and you.
I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool,
White and shining in the silver-flecked water.
While the moon rode over the garden,
High in the arch of night,
And the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness.
Night, and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing!
poem by Amy Lowell
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Alive Again
All alone
I must stand
Even when im running
And it feels
Like a dream
I need to awaken from
I believe
When it hurts
We must keep trying
But I want
And I need
Like a river needs the rain
Theres a bridge I need to burn before I leave
I just wanna breathe again
Like a summer day I need to feel the heat again
I only wanna keep the stone from rolling
I only wanna learn to feel the rain
Then maybe I could stop the leaves from falling
I only wanna learn to freeze the flame
I know ill be alive again
I wanna be alive again
Heres the night
Wheres the stars
coz I need some guiding
And it cuts
Like a knife
As I watch you walk away
Theres a bridge I need to burn before I leave
I just wanna breathe again
Like a summer day I need to feel the heat again
I only wanna keep the stone from rolling
I only wanna learn to feel the rain
Then maybe I could stop the leaves from falling
I only wanna learn to freeze the flame
I know ill be alive again
I wanna be alive again
I wanna be alive again
coz I did my best
Baby whod have guessed
That ive failed the test
coz when love aint best
And its laid to rest
It can leave a mess
I only wanna keep the stone from rolling
I only wanna learn to feel the rain
Then maybe I could stop the leaves from falling
I only wanna learn to freeze the flame
I know ill be alive again
I wanna be alive again
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Ideas Of War
Your ideas of war and war heroes are your own and that's okay with me
But when you tell me war leads to peace with you I can't agree
Bad feelings between people who have been to war for years and years remain
In war as well as the needless loss of life friends you don't ever gain
Even for the so called winners of the war the price is huge to pay
And yet of war and rumours of war we read and hear of every day
Millions have died or have been injured in wars and in war only heartbreak
And far too many people fail to realize that war is a huge mistake
When you say that war is not a bad thing in that you are not alone
But let the one who is free of sin be the first to cast the stone
That you are entitled to your point of view with me is quite okay
Though I for one do not agree with what you have to say
Of war and your ideas on it which to all you like to make known
And though your ideas are different to mine like 'tis said to each their own.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Wall!
Why persist?
Why do not you gave up after all?
Do you not see how this wall
that you try to fall apart
is brick and stone?
Stronger?
Oldest?
Do you think
that your torment, your pain
soften its contours?
Adorn your stone walls?
Do not you see that
is brick and stone?
Fall one day?
Just the sound it will do
Just like in Jericho!
Be Mute!
Be Inert!
Dead!
We thank you!
Leave Us !
Tears to shed
comes from fleeting moment!
But if water is strong,
violent stream
A river meeting the sea!
you reveal the way for us
And when you're
Tired and all the work already done
Allow us navigate your river bed.
bricks and stones on our head!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Easy Money
Lets go -- while were young!
Moving easy money, how far to the street
Close-in complications better keep your nose clean, better move my feet
Moves me like a winner Im turning up the heat
Ive gotta get me something I want to feel some friction, want to feel some heat
Keep your pretentions feel this beat
Easy money Im a rolling dice now
Give me something but your good advice
Easy money Im a rolling dice now, easy money
Sticky situations and a womans revelations
Ive gotta feel something, wanna feel some friction, wanna feel this heat
Keep your pretentions feel this beat
Easy money Im a rolling dice now
I dont need nothing, your good advice
Easy money Im a rolling dice now easy money
Look into my soul, and the night life of amsterdam
Laid down in stockholm, Ill always be your fan
Wind blows off the twilight, sunset in l.a.
The powers of the world, easy moneys ok
Instrumental
Easy money Im a rolling dice now
Give me something but your advice
Easy money Im a rolling dice now
Give me something but your good advice
Easy money and a rolling dice now
Give ms something I wont think twice
Easy money Im a rolling dice now,
Easy money easy money, hold on tight now
Easy money Im a rolling dice
Give me money, easy money....
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Not By The Water Alone The Stone Get Wet
it's not by the water alone the stone get wet
many time the soil moisture rise the plant to grow,
and the dew fall in the midst forest has capture the
sun to shadow the plant maturity until the bearing
trees touch every twisting tooth to go down
roll on the water stream the fungi has distance the
cope off the fish, rushing into the turmoil of
crushing speed amongst the stone of sojourner into
the sea of no returning back, the awakening
movement of home bound recipe of life
all gets wet, nay wet moisturize all the rolling stone
towards to the sea floor of forever gray; neither the
water filled the dried color of the stone, and scented
to attract fish to return home for what is real lives
forever in the heart of the stone
let every piece of pebble gems taste a little droplets
of water as it linger on in the memory of the each
stream.....
poem by Antonio Liao
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The moss that loves the stone
It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beauty And Mystery
my friend you must understand
that i am
too, sort of, a roller-coaster
emotions are,
feelings do, travel in a circle
like
a repetition of
tantrums,
there are no good
ones, there are those that keep you high
promising you a nirvana
(which you only have to guess because it is not that clear)
clarity is like a fairy sometimes
i know what you want, what you think is great
it is something that we cannot understand
and it amazes us
because we cannot understand it
we equate it with mystery
and beauty is mysterious
i will concoct a secret for you
like stone inside a glass of water
that we freeze on the ref
there is frost, and opaqueness
that melts down
with time, and our gazes are impatient
until such time that everything becomes too clear
plain stone inside a glass of water
with lots of stories in them
fumes of cold, water dropping,
liquid, and
safe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Talbingo
'TALBINGO RIVER'—as one says of bones:
'Captain' or 'Commodore' that smelt gunpowder
In old engagements no one quite believes
Or understands. Talbingo had its blood
As they did, ran with waters huge and clear
Lopping down mountains,
Turning crags to banks.
Now it's a sort of aching valley,
Basalt shaggy with scales,
A funnel of tobacco-coloured clay,
Smoulders of puffed earth
And pebbles and shell-bodied flies
And water thickening to stone in pocks.
That's what we're like out here,
Beds of dried-up passions.
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Here Comes Life
the rolling stone
sliding past
following us
the rolling stone
now ahead of us
here comes life
and there it is gone
we are still the moss
catching no stone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Been There Before
There came a stranger to Walgett town,
To Walgett town when the sun was low,
And he carried a thirst that was worth a crown,
Yet how to quench it he did not know;
But he thought he might take those yokels down,
The guileless yokels of Walgett town.
They made him a bet in a private bar,
In a private bar when the talk was high,
And they bet him some pounds no matter how far
He could pelt a stone, yet he could not shy
A stone right over the river so brown,
The Darling River at Walgett town.
He knew that the river from bank to bank
Was fifty yards, and he smiled a smile
As he trundled down; but his hopes they sank,
For there wasn’t a stone within fifty mile;
For the saltbush plain and the open down
Produce no quarries in Walgett town.
The yokels laughed at his hopes o’erthrown,
And he stood awhile like a man in a dream;
Then out of his pocket he fetched a stone,
And pelted it over the silent stream –
He’d been there before; he had wandered down
On a previous visit to Walgett town.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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