Is
Greek
and other ancient languages
are happy with verbs
existing without a subject.
Renders.
Philosophers, silent;
poets, dumb;
contemplatives, still..
Is.
Becomes?
Continues?
Ends?
Cogitates:
Is?
Is:
cogitates.
Meditates.
Rests.
Cla rifies.
Wonders.
Praises.
Expands.
Em braces.
Loves.
Is.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I do not read the ancient languages, but I am beginning to study Greek.
Dumb-Dead-Frog
Here is to a
Dumb-Dead-Frog.
She tried to lie to us
one-and-all.
With her sticky tongue
She did steal.
From the works of others
OH! ! -What-a -Thrill…! !
The words
must have tasted
So – Darn
Good
She tried
to eat
all of them
she could
But the pond of poets
She was in
Would not stand for
her dumb sin.
They all said….
“Quick before it’s to late
We must agree to
Excommunicate”.
So without love-loss
Dumb-Frog did die.
May she serve as a reminder
to all who lie.
From others words
She is to blame.
That she, “ Rests-in-Hell ”
from where she came.
poem by Sirpheno The Knight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To the spirits of Abn 'Arabi, poet, and Averroes, philosopher
The philosopher asked the poet,
Does what the poets and the mystics
find in their hearts, agree
with what the philosophers have discovered
or reasoned to be true?
The poet answered
Yes, and No
and between the two
is a place, a space, where
the mouth is silent,
the pen hovers poised above the paper,
the eyes sparkle,
the heart leaps and rejoices,
and the mind soars on journeys
beyond anything that was known before
and lives experiences never before experienced;
finds words behind words
that were never spoken before,
sounds behind sounds
never heard before,
a knowledge beyond love,
a love beyond knowledge..
a place where poets and philosophers
meet together in a world of wonder.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Process continues
All the eggs don’t hatch.
All the seeds don’t burst.
All the loves don’t spark.
Yet the process continues.
All the chicks don’t live.
All the sprouts don’t grow.
All the loves don’t bloom.
But the process continues.
Pest takes toll of the siblings.
Drought takes the toll of the seedlings.
Fate stalls many loves in making.
Still the process continues.
The process spurts the hope.
The process spurs the heart.
The process thrills the senses.
Evolution, thus, continues.
03.10.2000, Pkmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
oh yes, Mr. Shaun, the Bible was not written in English
The Gospel of Christ and, in general,
the Holy Bible are written with the inspiration of God.
The Prophets and the Apostles
have recorded in written form
a portion of the oral teaching of the Old Testament
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
These are the original languages of the Holy Bible from' which all the translations have been derived. God's inspiration is confined to the original languages and utterances, not the many translations. There are 1,300 languages and dialects into which the Holy Bible, in its entirety or in portions, has been
translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.
This does not mean that the translations do not convey the meaning of the Bible for spiritual uprightness of the readers in their own language. On the contrary the Bible should be spread and preached to 'all nations'. The missionaries in foreign lands learn the language or the dialect of. the new area into which they bring the Bible and other religious teachings. For example, the missionaries from Constantinople, Saints Cyril and Methodios, sent to Christianize the Slavic peoples in the 9th century, first translated the Bible and the ritual books into the language of the people.
yes, Mr. Shaun, my friend the Bible was not written in English.IT was written in HEBREW, ARAMAIC, and GREEK....
But i like it written in English too, how i wish it were written in such a
language,
with a sense of class
and fashionable disguise,
for without it, how could i ever understand, God,
oh, my, God!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Episode
We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
—do you love me?
—I love you
with furrowed eyebrows
I summarize all wisdom
of the two testaments
astrologers prophets
philosophers of the gardens
and cloistered philosophers
and it sounds about like this:
—don’t cry
—be brave
—look how everybody
you pout your lips and say
—you should be a clergyman
and fed up you walk off
nobody loves moralists
what should I say on the shore of
a small dead sea
slowly the water fills
the shapes of feet which have vanished
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Most metaphysical words in Hopi are verbs, not nouns as in European languages.
quote by Benjamin Whorf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.
quote by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
The ancient Greek oral poets all had this anxiety about the deficiencies of their memories and always began poems by praying to the Muse to help them remember.
quote by David Antin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 38
A company of philosophers were discussing a subject in the palace of Kesra and Barzachumihr, having remained silent, they asked him why he took no share in the debate. He replied: "Veziers are like physicians and the latter give medicine to the sick only but, as I perceive that your opinions are in conformity with propriety, I have nothing to say about them."
When an affair succeeds without my idle talk
It is not meet for me to speak thereon.
But if I see a blind man near a well
It is a crime for me to remain silent.
Complementary viewpoints for friend Chandra
Philosophy and poetry
are not completely different.
Each represents a way to see
What is not always evident.
Philosophers and poets try
to understand the universe.
The answers which they can supply.
Expressed in turgid prose or verse.
Philosophers can be abstruse
and difficult to understand
Because of how they phrase their views.
I don’t dismiss them out of hand.
I much prefer the poets verse
To endless reams of complex prose.
I do not think I am perverse
Simplicity I must suppose.
Is really what appeals to me.
the poets seek to entertain
and yet express with clarity.
Philosophers try to explain.
Their reasoning in great detail.
They just succeed in boring me
Their efforts are to no avail
I will admit quite openly
I simply cannot spare the time
To plough through densely written prose.
But I find poetry sublime
I like the way it ebbs and flows.
The insight that a poet shows
can entertain and educate.
Philosophers try to impose
their views, discouraging debate.
Which does not sit too well with me.
Folks can’t stand being patronised
and will rebel instinctively.
A fact that poets recognise.
They are content to share their thoughts.
With anyone who chooses to
read the verses they have wrought.
Which may express a different view
To that of the philosophers.
You draw your own conclusions
and choose which version you prefer.
Perhaps your own opinions.
Philosophy and poetry
Are both legitimate attempts
To explain some mystery
By folks of different temperaments.
22/08/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Answered Prayers?
... my day continues
after stopping for a burger,
fries and a coke
I drive to the nearest bookstore
and purchase
three new books
in Chile
they are picking out bodies
out of earthquake rubble
the west coast and Hawaii braces
for a string of tsunamis
my day continues
in Afghanistan yesterday
seventeen died
in a car bombing spree
I walk across the parking lot
enter my car
share the rest my fries with my dog
rub his ears, kiss his head
my day continues
like a disinterested god
I go on with my day
as others die
the rest of the world
always goes on
with its day
and we expect answered prayers?
poem by R. James Sterzinger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The soul who meditates on the Self is content to serve the Self and rests satisfied within the Self there remains nothing more for him to accomplish.
Verbs v. nouns
Nouns…
they’re dead things; names
you give to things to render them
immobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothing
except scrapheaps, museums, dictionaries, armchairs;
but they make you feel good;
you have control over their world;
you don’t have to think about them any more;
they’re all locked up safe in your collecting-box,
the noun for which is head:
you can sound important with nouns:
this government’s raft of measures
for fiscal stimulation of the economy
but verbs… ah, verbs!
you can’t own them, push them about,
collect them, be important about them;
they own themselves;
they’re outdoor words: going about their
lawful business, doing what they're best at,
measuring their own life as they work;
adapting themselves to what needs to be done
which nouns can’t do without a committee
and then it’s too late; happy
to be themselves, being; even
being while they’re doing.. don't you wish
you were a verb?
Nature – (that’s a verb, by the way,
not a noun) – is all verbs; evolution
is a verb (not a theory):
DNA’s a verb – you can’t own it
like a noun…it doesn’t even
want to own you…
so, be a child – put your boots on,
run, splash, shout look at all those verbs;
how bright the world, what fun,
nothing to put in your pocket to take home
(or if you do, it’ll change to a noun, your noun,
in your pocket, in your drawer, gathering dust:
verbs don’t have the time to gather dust…)
verbs are for observing; verbs are for
seeing for the first time; wow! Verbs are for
inventors, explorers, tree-climbing,
coming home after a day of verb-watching
tired and looking forward to tomorrow
and sleeping soundly, maybe even
thanking, laughing, giving, living;
God is a verb.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A silente creature
The silent creature
populates the human
minds
A silent creature
is invisible but
reliable and fizzy
This creature is
silent because she
needs to be
understood, refined and
she wants a
lot of aids
A silent creature
is an explosion
of life
To be a
silent creature is
a fresh and
wonderful sensation
A silent creature
is an angelical
messenger
She is a
happy, ancient, colorful
and vital imagine
A silent creature
tells many different
and interesting stories
Sometimes the silent
creature deceives to
defeat the racism
A silent creature
is defenseless from
the not curious
A silent creature
is a desirable
but desperate and
suspicious person
A silent creature
can be an
alter ego
She is a
guide of dignity
and human values
poem by Laura arwen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Vastness Of Nature
One never is short of things on which to write
Like butterflies flitting in the bright sunlight
Or the pleasant aroma of the blossoming trees
That wafts in the air of the freshening breeze.
In the vastness of Nature i do seem quite small
Like a wee grain of sand to a massive football
And the wonders of Nature are a magical thing
And the praises of Nature i feel happy to sing.
Us humans are part of Nature that's how it seems to me
And though many with what i have said may well not agree
On our very existence Nature has the say
And our remains in her bosom are destined to lay.
The one true immortal she lives on in time
So often has Nature inspired me to rhyme
To her vast distant oceans her great rivers flow
Yet so little of her ways i do seem to know.
I do my best to describe the great beauty i see
The wonders of Nature that are all around me
And the beauty of Nature never ceases to inspire
And of singing her praises could one ever tire?
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Art has two constant, two unending concerns: It always meditates on death and thus always creates life. All great, genuine art resembles and continues the Revelation of St John.
quote by Boris Pasternak
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
When I was a child, I wanted to be an actor, but I had really bad buckteeth. I didn't want to get braces, but my mom said I couldn't be an actor if I didn't get the braces. So, I got the braces.
quote by James Franco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Young Reviews
Some young poets may mistake
Reviews as a door for more discussion
A vast arena where one can make
An endless lane for Argumentation.
Reviewing further on a review
The comment box becomes gibe talk
Topic diverted to irrelevant issues
Until its there that Gossip walks
Perhaps a line has to be drawn
Where Poetry as art should have a place
Center the review on what it spawns
The impact, the theme, what the poems says
-------------
This poem was written as a satire for young poets
who have mistaken the comment box as a place for pointless
discussion/arguments and some have gone so far as talk
about an erring mother (the subject of a poem) . Such
practice diverts the purpose for reviews - which is to
comment on the poem - not on the character or subject,
for then it ends up as a 'gossip box'.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Beauty Of Nature The Poets Inspire
Were I a poet I'd write of Nature's beauty around me
The songs of the birds on bush, hedge and tree
The flowers of the garden so lovely to see
The beauty of Nature to look at is free.
The babble of the waterways the brook, creek and rill
That flow to the river downland from the hill
That flows to the coast all the way to the sea
One of Nature's Goddess wonders none as great as she.
Of singing her praises could one ever tire
The beauty of Nature the poets inspire
To pen their poems to her of her praises they do sing
The beauty of Nature outlives her every Spring.
And though all of her life forms to life come and go
Goddess of Nature whose secrets anybody does not know
Will live on forever she will never die
Unlike all other mortals such as you and I.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!