Experience
Experience
Is like line making in origami
It helps to fold a form of paper
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Farewell Paper Crane
Straying in to stormy weather
Our love was a weather balloon
And when the going got tough
You let go too soon
But I clung on, and sailed into the rain
I made out the other side
Without my paper crane
Farewell my origami sweetheart
It's time for something new
Someone I barely recognise
Something I never saw in you
We’ll learn to be in love again from scratch
In my paper heart
I fold the perfect lines
For our not-so-perfect match
poem by Amy Murtagh
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Origami Me....
the way you fold a piece of paper
to make those cups and flowers and cranes
never stops to amaze me,
you know how to make use of mere scraps
into art, into something as useful as a cup
into something more meaningful as
those hundred cranes flying in the skies
on the minds of excited children
origami me, make me more artistic,
more useful
i am a mere scrap of paper flat on the table of this universe
Oh God...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Master Of Origami We Honour
master of origami folding many coloured
pieces of paper into objects of appealing interest
animals people flowers mysterious artifacts
respect and honour are given master creator
in Japan an artist is honoured respect is due
no cretin comments “imagine a grown man
sitting around all day folding pieces of paper”
this is not New Zealand where a master poet
is ignored condemned by creatures of contempt
master of origami we honour wonder in your eyes
poem by Terence George Craddock
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That Letter
i will be honest with you
i once wrote a letter
for you
many years ago
telling
that I LOVE YOU
but then something
wrong went with my mind
childish, immature
selfish,
fleshy, they call me
i took the letter
and read it again
under the lamp
dim
near my bed
i was hesitant to tell
you what i really feel
because i know
you would not believe me
anyway
(liar! liar! you always
call me that name)
and so let me be honest
with you
i decided not to send
it
despite its truth
i folded it
shaped it into the form
of a japanese crane
(origami, that is the
art of paper folding
and the japanese believe
that an origami crane
can cure the sick
the loved one
and i believe that
too)
i looked at it carefully
when it was finished
the shape of
a crane, the white one
with letters on it
and then i opened
my window
it was cold and dark
and i sent the
crane into the
open space
beyond me
i never dreamed
that it will reach
you
i did not believe
in love
i did not believe
in you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paper Thin
Rich and wealthy canvas
Clustered up in jewels
Finding all your heavyweights
Are featherweights and fools
Broken all your promises
Broken all your paper plates
Clustered in gold
Crusted in gold
Heavy and hollow
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Heavy and humble
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
In origami cities
In nations build on sand
Love got bend right outta shape
Things got outta hand
Polystyrene skylines
Papier mch smiles
Rusted and bruised
Tarnished and frail
Heavy and hollow
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Heavy and humble
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Stars scrape the moon
And the moon scrapes the sky
We stand beneath
Wondering why
Stars scrape the moon
And the moon scrapes the sky
We stand beneath
Wondering, wondering why
Paper buys the men
The men that make the bomb
The bomb that makes this world
Paper thin!
Money markets crumble
Gentle as a drum
But if you see me stumble, im
Paper thin!
Life is but a fragile thing
So delicate and pure
An accolade bestowed on us
Paper thin!
So contemplate the skull
The skull beneath the skin
One day we all die, were
Paper thin
Bury your destruction
In your last battle hymn
The barriers between us, make em all
Paper thin! paper thin!
Paper thin! paper thin!
Underneath the paper moon
The sky is paper thin
Torn into a thousand shreds
So let the solar system in
Rich and wealthy canvas
Clustered up in jewels
Finding all your heavyweights
Are featherweights and fools
In origami cities
In nations build on sand
Love got bend right outta shape
Nothing ends as planned
And its all-paper thin
Paper thin. paper thin
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lead Pencil Reflections
Lead on O graphite lead.
Explain your thoughts to me
As on the paper we
Dance on, dot, dash ahead.
Pencil to paper wed
Eternally may free
New versions constantly –
Creations scarcely read?
In moments, trammels shed,
Life sparkles inwardly,
Poetic harmony
Line after line is fed
As on thought waves we’re sped.
Yet with sense, form, in key
Enlightenment we see
Responding, sharing spread...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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If indeed, as Hilbert asserted, mathematics is a meaningless game played with meaningless marks on paper, the only mathematical experience to which we can refer is the making of marks on paper.
I think that everything you do helps you to write if you're a writer. Adversity and success both contribute largely to making you what you are. If you don't experience either one of those, you're being deprived of something.
quote by Shelby Foote
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Helps Me Helps You
Look at all the toys I got
Look at all the things I need
Look at all the toys I got
Look at all the mouths I feed
Have I got a wonderful deal for you
What belongs to me belongs to you
I understand what youre going through
I know the point to push you to
My policy helps me helps you
Generosity helps me helps you
Conspiracy helps me helps you
Put you trust in me Ill help you too
Look at all the things Ive done
Look at all the rights I wrong
The means will justify the end
For you to save and me to spend
Cos Ive got a great idea you see
What belongs to you belongs to me
I know just what you wanna do
I know how I can get there too
Hypocrisy helps me helps you
Democracy helps me helps you
Ideology helps me helps you
Put your trust in me Ill help you through
(hirst/moginie)
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Ranger
Traveling throughout the world people see the sky lights
Making ‘em wanna spend their nights with the very high life
I wrote/ this one more time for all my other green rangers
That discovered that daft punks in their pockets means danger
Those/ concrete battlefields left a marathon behind me
Back/ when my trust my guts and my lust would just blind me
I/ almost folded/ strangers called me origami
But now my money clips can gun ‘em down like I was Tommy
Probably/ could’ve spent my days getting wet down by the harbors
Or with them on the steps/ buzzed and faded like a barber
Instead I got it crackin’ and I did a line that’s smarter
I wanted to see myself/ and my evergreen grow taller
Back/ then I made my beats using just a beat box
Trying to stack my paper/ like my name was Xerox
Now I’ve got more classics than Mozart and Reeboks
And my songs have got you hooked like Peter Pan in detox
While/ they were making hits leading them to felonies
On chain gangs in the heat/ dressing up like referees
I was out on a mission for cheesecake and celery
To gross that Benjamin Franklin green without the jealousy
Now I’m embracing first places/ collecting the faces
They still sit and their hatin’ the envious are runnin’ in
But lot of these pennies won’t learn, they won’t learn
That the money I earn won’t burn/ so come again
poem by P.R. Prosper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry asks people to have values, form opinions, care about some other part of experience besides making money and being successful on the job.
quote by Toi Derricotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Fortress
Is made of parcment paper
Manilla envelopes shade
The sun
Once a fortress made of
Steel
Now melted
By a welders torch
Tormented by lusts
Familiar call
The door is solid
Origami
Pasted shut with
Super Glue
Seven wooden soldiers
Mount my toothpick
Gate
To protect me
From you
In the daylight
Or in the shadows
At the midnight
Hour
My paper bell chimes
Warnings from
Plastic warrior power
Guarding my insecurities
From the dark colours
Sneaking through
The crevices
Of Brown and Blue
That are ouside
Sixteen miles away
From the
Chapel where bibles
Go to hide
poem by Theodora Onken
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Alankar(Decor) -36
Making Of A Rose(Triolet)
Just making of a rose a Rose
Cuts and folds plastic or paper
Then paints with all pink rouged a Rose
Just making of a rose a Rose
Blooms, scents, charms rosy Rose her rose
Thorns and scissors-they don't differ
Just making of a rose a Rose
Cuts and folds plastic or paper
poem by Indira Renganathan
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I'm no longer blind (Quatern poetry)
(A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It is
similar to the Kyrielle and the Retourne. It has a refrain that is in a
different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second
line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fouth line of stanza four.
A quatern has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic or follow
a set rhyme scheme. line 1 line 2 line 3 line 4 line 5 line 6 (line 1) line 7
line 8 line 9 line 10 line 11 (line 1) line 12 line 13 line 14 line 15 line 16
(line 1)
Dear Lord, please have mercy on me,
You're always near my painful soul,
You are my focus and my goal,
In the falling rain I'm your tree.
Help me for I am a sinner.
Dear Lord, please have mercy on me.
'Cause I'm Your humble devotee,
Asking Christ to come for dinner.
Guard Thou with light this pain of mine.
I'm no longer blind I can see.
Dear Lord, please have mercy on me.
Your words through me will always shine.
Save me by Your grace, set me free.
Keep my way, truth and life in Christ.
And so I'll know that Thou exist.
Dear Lord, please have mercy on me.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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You ask me to leave (Pantoum poetry)
The “pantun” is a Malaysian poetic form that was introduced to the West by French novelist, essayist, and poet, Victor Hugo (1802-1885) , hence the French spelling, “pantoum.” Westerners have taken creative liberties with the Malaysian form, which tends to follow a standard rhyme form of ABAB, where multiple, rather than single subjects, are introduced. While pantoums can have unlimited stanzas, you might want to begin with a 3-stanza poem until you get the hang of it:
Stanza 1: Line 1/Line 2/Line 3/Line 4
Stanza 2: Line 5 (repeat of line 2 in stanza 1) /Line 6 (new line) /Line 7 (repeat of line 4 in stanza 1) /
Line 8 (new line)
Stanza 3/Last Stanza (This is the format for the last stanza regardless of how many preceding stanzas exist) : Line 9 (line 2 of the previous stanza) /Line 10 (line 3 of the first stanza) /Line 11 (line 4 of the previous stanza) /Line 12 (line 1 of the first stanza)
And you ask me to leave all behind
Now when our moment in time is done
Going nowhere with nothing in mind
'Cause you're my world and my special one
Now when our moment in time is done
I love you like there's no end in sight
'Cause you're my world and my special one
You're still on my mind all day and night.
I love you like there's no end in sight
You're inside me filling my soul's space
You're still on my mind all day and night.
I feel still cuddled in your embrace
You're inside me filling my soul's space
Going nowhere with nothing in mind
I feel still cuddled in your embrace
And you ask me to leave it all behind
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Divine Force (terza Rima Sonnet)
Prayer is the answer to a troubled heart,
Challenges meant to be overcome and solved,
Faith in God is the best way to make a start.
Splendour of sunshine around- a ball of gold!
Winds-cool or stormy reach their destination,
Warm sun and wind, engulfing all in their fold.
Water, the elixir makes no distinction,
Energy giver-Fire, also smothers,
Trees do not produce fruits in isolation.
Associations-complex and a bother.
Get caught in the labyrinth, never be freed,
Life’s lessons-through experience can gather.
Getting rid of contempt, prejudice and greed
Accepting Divine Will engenders a new breed.
(The Italian form Diaspora or Terza Rima is a of indefinite length, made up of numbers of three-line stanzas or tercets. The sonnet ends with a couplet linking back to the first stanza. The rhyme scheme is such that line 2 of each stanza rhymes with lines 1 and 3 of the following stanza, creating an interlocking pattern. In the final stanza, both lines rhyme with line 2 of the preceding tercet. The Terza Rima sonnet has the following rhyme scheme, .a.b.a...b.c.b...c.d.c...d.e.d...e.e.)
Hema Ravi,13.08.09
Lucky Sin
Luck reminds me of sin,
Sins collect from the odour.
A fortune fades, faces do fight,
How do we describe the sins?
The luck is like gambling, a soot
From the chimney of the home.
My sins concern me, like fire and ice,
They flop, flip and fold in a paper-form,
To write books of acts and messages,
That luck writes, that sins are simpler.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Blessed To Be His Pen
I am blessed to be a pen, which God uses to speak to men,
As God’s Truth flows from in; Truths I’ve received from Him,
Truth from within His Word, which many still have not heard,
So God put within me care, and with a pen this Truth I share.
I do not have a big degree, and yet, The Lord God uses me,
Guiding my pen as I write, Truths about His Grace and Light,
Truths I did not always know, but His Spirit helped me grow,
And now His Truth in my heart, to you with pen I now impart.
His Truth for me, is not new, but still a joy to share with you,
It’s the Truth that set me free, that helps me point to eternity.
The blessings begin to flow, when Christ you come to know,
Who helps men share His Word, until all on earth have heard.
To share His Truth, until then, The Lord helps me use my pen,
Guiding me, as I sow seed, through the verses that you read.
Many blessings God gives me, which the readers cannot see,
As His blessings fill my days, I lift up to Him all of the praise.
Just a line or two, will begin, from His Truth that dwells within,
Coupled with a thought of mine, when God pens another line,
Stirring thoughts day and night, it is Him, who helps me write.
It doesn’t matter how or when; I’m just blessed to be His pen.
(Copyright ©02/2008)
A Fixed Line
If happiness were a fixed line,
It would be contorted in the form
Of a circle,
Endlessly cycling
Toward itself,
And always a repeating motion
That ceases to amaze.
It would not be within that line
That we would experience the shattered
Fragments of joy
That gleam through the bloodshed—
The amaranthine bruising
That makes our skin heavy
From the gashes of sorrow—
That gleam like the glimmers of broken glass
Misted over the cool, dewy grass
In the moonlight.
The center of that circle would evade us
As we chase our tails back
To find our previous hedonisms,
And narcissisms, and simulated nostalgias.
We would need to break the line
With a thoughtful tangent
That cuts through the emptiness
And into where the emptiness remains
poem by Tim Stensloff
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