Celadon
Musing on the remains
Some sweet yellow crumbs
A drunk cappuccino clinging
A stain of consumption
This random of entropy
Decorating the not noticed
Everyday mess everyday pottery
Another snack past deserted
The exhibits are serene
Shown in silent display
Encased in self perfection
Ignoring themselves and us
Peerless in the isolation
Their sole reflection themselves
A whispered Celadon presence
Perfect diction in being
Levitating from the shelves
The air is questioned
Should you mould us?
Should we mould you?
A response is needless
The shape is all
The abstract of dialogue
A fiction of ideals
The white cafe wear
Subject to different display
Stacked then a performance
A humdrum of movement
No critique in using
The vernacular white anonymity
As it chats away
Through its fashioned life
The wan Korean aristocrats
Disdaining the protecting glass
What do they mean
With those delicate extras
The necks stretching out
To perfect the ratio
As knowing lips kiss
The self serving space
The space is seductive
The vernacular is sidelined
The synthetics of debate
A few written lines
But made is made
Wrought into a form
Brought into a life
Our background as commentary
poem by Michael Oliver
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Related quotes
A Perfect of One
So if this kiss
I mean to kiss
happens and it
runs amiss
and you or I
suffer disappointment
will we forever eschew
the kissing
and its sweet intents
because we sought
that which was more perfect
than either of
us?
That I guess would be silly.
But how sweet is the love
held in our breasts
how wonderful is the kiss never made
how perfect the kiss before the touch of lips
gentle touch;
and the kiss is done;
it may or may not be the perfect gem
the before-kiss was.
Ah, life so often
interrupts my dreams
and forces me to love
me imperfectly
and you as well.
No, imperfect is not the word;
perhaps it is better seen
as the union of our two worlds
which by definition means me
and not me coming together
bringing home the point
that can perfection mate
when I am the only one in the portrait,
and a perfect of one;
which is not really
perfection at all;
or is that really
only the Perfection
of Alone?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Telling Stories
There is fiction in the space between
The lines on your page of memories
Write it down but it doesnt mean
Youre not just telling stories
There is fiction in the space between
You and me
There is fiction in the space between
You and reality
You will do and say anything
To make your everyday life
Seem less mundane
There is fiction in the space between
You and me
Theres a science fiction in the space between
You and me
A fabrication of a grand scheme
Where I am the scary monster
I eat the city and as I leave the scene
In my spaceship I am laughing
In your remembrance of your bad dream
Theres no one but you standing
Leave the pity and the blame
For the ones who do not speak
You write the words to get respect and compassion
And for posterity
You write the words and make believe
There is truth in the space between
There is fiction in the space between
You and everybody
Give us all what we need
Give us one more sad sordid story
But in the fiction of the space between
Sometimes a lie is the best thing
Sometimes a lie is the best thing
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance! (Don't Think)
You got to break the back of the mould
You were made in it
Crack the shell, that's how it's got to be
Nothing for certain
Ain't no way of knowing
Only believe in things that you see
Flow with the river
Run with the tide
Mix with your brother
Because he's right by your side
Crack that mould
Little bitty chicken
You can't stay in there forever
Now there ain't such a thing as only
One kind of weather
You got to bend learn
Take the rough with the smooth
Understand everything
Crack that mould
And only then you'll be free
Pick up them shoes, go running down that road
You know that preconception is such a heavy load
You got to live love
Put down that written word
Crack that mould
And only then you'll be free
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vermeer
An easel stands in candle light
Young maidens sit without gesture
Pure, like the repose of Eve in Eden
Eyes with the power of the stars
Guilt, shame, and sin has not happened
No acting, no projection, no splits
The fire of purity in stark reality
Blues like heaven itself, white light
Mystical perfection, virtue, innocence
Sexuality without sin, beauty so sincere
To paint the soul before the fall
Show life without pretense and masks
Clothing like creation itself
Put into space in eternal beauty
Ideals so lofty, so simple and sincere
Lips that give Eve's first kiss
Hands that touch with pure tenderness
Symmetry in mathematical wonder
Everyday life in profound infinity
Vermeer, did you see angels?
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Blossom of Life
SO now she lies silent and sweet
With white flowers at her head and feet,
And she, the fairest flower, between.
The bud that with her bosom's swell
In dear delight once rose and fell
Now wafts her all it has to tell,
And wonders why she sleeps serene.
And yet in life how small a part,
With pretty face and petty heart,
She played! And in that form so fair
There never dwelt a deep desire,
Her bosom never thrilled a-fire:
She loved too lightly e'en to tire—
And all my heart was meant for her.
Was there a soul within those eyes
That seemed to speak my dear surmise,
That with no tears were ever wet?
Through life she laughed her careless way,
She knew not sorrow or dismay—
And I have sorrowed day by day,
While those pale lips are smiling yet!
And so she lies on her small bed,
With white flowers at her feet and head,
And she, the fairest flower between!
In life how false the little rôle —
The peerless face, the paltry soul!
But she is perfect now—the whole
Pale blossom of the Might-Have-Been.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Journal Entry #1
last night we attended edu's wedding.
his dialogue is only gratitude.
thank you visitors, your presence is enough
even if you bring me no gifts.
the mother in-law has come from america with her second husband.
his papa, married to an old fil-am arrived ten days ago but resides
in the hotel
alone.
i am making a story.
it is true. i am making a reflection. am i a mirror?
edu is a man. no promises for ling-ling.
when it was my turn to speak, i said, life is full of surprises
and it is hardheaded, it simply follows the lines of your palms
as written.
no deviation. plain destiny. everything turns out to be good and
always in our favor.
the audience faces turn into bright moons.
so the venue becomes one feast of lights.
and there was dancing and drinking. the men become too lustful.
and the women to flirty.
the children swims at the pool nearby.
lanterns of light fly to the sky.
fireworks made the day the fourth of july.
i was drunk and i did not know what i was saying.
the following morning i phoned a fried.
edu's was a perfect wedding. everyone lost themselves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shes Perfect
(toby keith/wayne perry)
I took lisa down to the cafe
The one where we first fell in love
I played the same song that we used to dance to
Hopin it might be enough
But when I told her I was sorry
That only made it worse
Then the waitress came over and saw lisa cryin
Said, honey, whats the matter with her
Theres nothin wrong with her, shes perfect
Shes as pure as she can be
Shed never say it, but the only mistake she ever made was me
It might appear to you shes broken
By the teardrops in her eyes
But theres nothin wrong with her, shes perfect
Im the one who made her cry
Could you please bring us two cups of coffee
We might be here for a while
Make mine black and hers sweet as sugar
Something that matches her smile
Shes already loved me for half of her life
Shes never been untrue
So let me tell you before you ask her
If theres anything you can do
Theres nothin wrong with her, shes perfect
Shes as pure as she can be
Shed never say it, but the only mistake she ever made was me
It might appear to you shes broken
By the teardrops in her eyes
But theres nothin wrong with her, shes perfect
Im the one who made her cry
Theres nothin wrong with her, shes perfect
Im the one who made her cry
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Must Know The Fences Of My World
my world revolves around a fence
of 'nots'
not this, not that,
think, think a while, no compromises
do not stain a white cloth
do not display a dirty linen of the house
a dropp of ink can make your world dirty
a white sky, pure white sky, why should a black crow fly in there?
don't you make a waste of this clean life you have
this is the world i live in, a planet revolving to the mandate
of its orbits, no deviation, no running away, no escaping
not this, not that
don't do this don't do that
and now i have travelled that far and all wanting to see you
and look at you and hold you
despite the odds despite the rules and the prohibitions
and i ask for a kiss, just a kiss and tell me if you remember
i ask you why?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Crack That Mould
You got to break the back of the mould you were made in
Crack the shell, thats how its got to be
Nothing for certain, aint no way of knowing
Only believe in things that you see
Flow with the river, run with the tide
Mix with your brother, cos hes right by your side
Crack that mould
Little pretty chicken you cant stay in there forever
Now there aint no such thing as only one kind of weather
You got to bend, learn, take the rough with the smooth
Understand everything
Crack that mould
Now there aint no such thing as only one kind of weather
Pick up them shoes, go running down that road
You know that precondition is such a heavy load
You got to live love, put down that written word
Crack that mould
Now there aint no such thing as only one kind of weather
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Collision
Space, made of the pulsing endless vastness of the human imagination
Stars glow, comets fly, rocks drift all of this is silent as it happens in each galaxy
Quite soundless work taking it’s time
Everything must be perfect, efficient
When something foreign or new touches this space all of the workers
Must now create harmony and must accommodate the friend or intruder
If this foreign friend feels right like it must belong space will keep it
If it is an intruder planning to destroy comets fly to battle and attack
The white comets must protect its red rocks and absent sun
Then one faithful day space began to pulse faster as a foreign
Friend came into contact
The friend felt warm, soft, new, and inviting
It was another galaxy
It began pulsing as they became closer and closer
We fly away from these pink and red galaxies into the bodies of two people
Then further and further until we see them begin their new journey
A touch
A kiss
In the night
As the stars glow, comets fly, and rocks drift soundlessly and forever
Written: January 21,2010
poem by Ryan Collins
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Overcoming Setbacks
My space is my space!
And it's a happy place deserved.
Long in development.
And cleared of weeds,
Dusted of rubblish...
And nonsense free.
With resisted self evaluation done.
None of it fun overcoming setbacks.
And heartbreaks.
Or those mistakes clinging,
Onto denials made.
Fearing the truth hiding behind excuses...
I did to reduce pain felt.
Sitting I would do far removed from self...
To think of my journey,
Aboard a ship rudderless.
Until I awakened...
To shake away from my own confrontations.
Now to greet a 'me' I began to know to love!
With resisted self evaluation done.
None of it fun overcoming setbacks.
And heartbreaks.
Or those mistakes clinging,
Onto denials made.
My space is my space!
And it's a happy place deserved.
With or without those passing judgement,
About my love of it being self serving.
Nor do I solicit opinions,
Regarding how my life is best to live.
The enjoyment comes,
From the doing of it.
With less self abuse...
That seduces creative excuses to make!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sweet Dreams
Sweet dreams are made of many things
The different thoughts that we constantly think
The very things that that lie in our fantasies
And create a thought that's tenaciously sweet
That we savor so much while soundly asleep
Things that can only happen in dreams
My sweet dreams are made of you
The perfect moments and the perfect gloom
The perfect place and the perfect dream
But whatever could be more perfect than you?
Is only what I can conjure in my sleep
Life is a reality and dreams are the opposite
It's the time we find peace from every worry
It's a place where every story has a happy ending
It's a place where every person has a chance to be happy
It's a place where you and I have a happy ending
A cradle song before we sleep
And escape the grimes of reality
And the things that keep you away from me
Life is a reality and dreams are the opposite
Dreams are the sweetest and life is life
In my dreams you and I are happy
But in reality... life is life.
Sweet dreams are made of many things
And mine are made of you
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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Primal Death
Space
Time
Space
Travel
Raining
Ai ming
Space
Time
Space
Expanding
Un iting
Increasing
Space
Time
Space
Sweeping
Restraining
Stretching
Space
Time
Space
Wrestling
Throwing
Throwi ng up
Space
Time
Space
Falling
Sinkin g
Overturning
Space
Time
Space
Whi rling
Space
Time
Space
Disturbing
Space
Time
Space
Whirring
Space
Ti me Space
Erring at
Nothing
poem by August Stramm
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Amber
A Prehistoric Dragon Fly
Encased in amber, on display
Caught my eye as I passed it by
in the museum yesterday.
Encased in amber, as if time
itself was stopped and held at bay.
You will never know decay
Or another summer's day.
You in amber, me in time
Both are trapped and on display.
You in resin are enshrined,
while I am seen encased in rhyme.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Sweet Pea
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the black child;
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the coloured child;
But the black child is aware of the coloured and the white!
And this poem is to bring forth the message of love to all amnkind,
Because we were all made by the Creator!
Just as it is written,
So is the seed of the Medes;
And like Sodom and Gomorrah!
For i saw people queuing for pig meat and,
Like the sins of our past.
Of the people and by the people,
Read your Bible and pray everyday;
For many are still not ready to learn.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Memory Of The Kiss! ! !
This was the memory.
The memory kissed had played with the heart.
The memory kissed through fast the heartbeat.
The memory kissed made thoughts simply played with the feeling.
The kiss was the feeling of coming tempted promised heaven.
The feeling kiss appreciated each other.
The feeling kiss loved each other.
The feeling kiss gave each other.
It was the kiss through perfection.
The memory kissed had brought the wound.
The memory kissed came with yearning.
The memory kissed flirted.
A kiss not only played with the lips.
Because the kiss was destiny.
Because the kiss was to fill up the world was full of the colour.
This the kiss was the nature song.
This the kiss accompanied the prayer.
This the kiss accompanied the love.
And more significant the kiss always brought yearning.
The memory of the kiss had felt.
Shared the love shared yearning.
The memory kissed still was felt on the perfect lips through perfection.
Perfect Lie/ You Are Loved The Way You Are
Stand in front of the mirror
Either boys or girls, some got depression
Try to find yourself underneath the reflection
Dissect each point, seek for perfection
Dreaming of perfection, adore some corrections
Never know the word of satisfy
Already beautiful but admire to modify
Don't you know who really you are?
You are loved by the way you are
Most of us rather see what appeared outside
always forgot to evaluate what lies inside
Most of us deceived by the open eyesight
always fooled because blinded heart-sight
Perfection makes everyone affected
Perfect one is what you wanted
Perfect lie is what you invented
Perfect word only a word that human created
A real you, that what you have neglected
Dear,
Don't feel down,
if u are blessed as jasmine flower
Why must you envy of that sunflower
I know, it is big, sweet yellow, catchy for eyes to look
But, don't you know sunflower adore the way you look?
Hypnotize fragrance by cute in white, posses its own hook
So unfair to compare the different beauty you both look
Jasmine, u never be sunflower even u dressed in yellow
The fake pigment will fade away soon
Sunflower, perfumed never make u placed in jasmine row
The artificial scent will gone before noon
No need to hear anyone to drag you down
Yet thou be like a rose, beauty guarded by thorns
Thankful to have what u have now
You always loved by who you are now
It is always good to be yourself
Better than lost yourself in your own lie
In fantasy, to taste perfection, perfect lie u got
In reality, perfection is only belong to God
And...you are always loved the way you are
*Note: U are beautiful, no matter what people say...
This is for everyone that think they are not good enough
in many aspects not limited to beauty perception
poem by Unwritten Soul
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Who's To Blame
Oh Mother Ghana; Mother Ghana
What has happened to you?
What has happened to your culture?
They say we've fold arms against 'Vernacular' language
Instead opened arms wide to 'English' language
Oh Mother Ghana Mother Ghana
Why?
At school, we are taught the things we do not know
By the 'English' language
Why not 'Vernacular' language?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Where is your true identity as pure African?
Where is your pride as true Ghanaian?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana,
Day after day
When we put on the uniform as students
We are forbidden to speak 'Vernacular' language
Instead the 'English' language
Why Mother Ghana, why Mother Ghana?
When we speak 'Vernacular' language; your culture,
They say: 'Speak English' someone's culture!
When we speak 'English' that someone's culture
They say: 'Abrofosem; speak vernacular language' your culture!
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Who's to blame?
'English or Vernacular language'
Oh Mother Ghana; Oh Mother Ghana.
poem by Francis Julian Zewu
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Poetry Dream.
I drift Yeah ~ ~ ~ ~ drift,
Network at home and abroad to find changed,
Finally came to this piece of land,
This is the poetry of the static earth?
Hoped to write a good poem,
To allow them across the oceans.
They become afraid of heavy stones,
Not sensual in the sink into the sea!
How many years after writing poetry?
This life caught in the areas of poetry,
Poets seem to lose direction.
Not to warble his life sentence,
Poetry is difficult as the expense of my new hand,
He voted Shigao nowhere Monet,
Sometimes, as the water is no longer up,
Poet dead bodies over the sea.
Poems written to a basis
Vernacular into a good poem, rare words,
But thousands of miles seeking Hello,
Poetry does not seek out the words parallelism.
Present the most chaotic poetry,
Have you written in classical Chinese poetry Link old-fashioned,
Vernacular writing to another, then no taste,
But to one day rushed into cloud,
To break the shackles of poetry,
Create a new charm,
Freedom to write my hope,
Unrestricted write a new realm.
poem by Albert Wong
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Some Kind Of Bliss
Written: james dean/bradfield/kylie minogue/sean moore
Shut my eyes
Feel the colour of you
So get to this elation
So high so fast
Shut my eyes
Feel the colour of you
Succumb to this illusion
So strong so deep
Cos everyday is all there is
In my some kind of bliss
Cos everyday is all there is
In my some kind of bliss
Study my reflection
And let the colours fall
Slip into stillness
And be above it all
Good to be here
Time to be alone
Ive found a space where I belong
Not succumb to fear
Cos everyday is all there is
In my some kind of bliss
Cos everyday is all there is
In my some kind of bliss
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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