Withitness
Some people love the experimental in poetry
Poetry, in the experimental, love some people
Love poetry, experimental people. Some
Lovesome
Challenging all preconceptions
Preconceptions all challenging…
Preconceptions challenging all
All-challenging
Playing with outmoded language
Language playing outmoded
With playing language
Language-playing
But with an implicit social critique
Critique but social
An implicit but
Critique-implicit
In the spirit of post modern irony
Irony modern in spirit
Spirit in modern
Post-irony
Look Ma I can stand on my head
Stand Ma on head
Stand on my Ma I can
Can-head
All-challenging language-playing
Post-irony
Critique-implic it
Lovesome?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
The Language Of Poetry Is Metaphor
The language of poetry is metaphor
And irony and ambiguity
And beauty-
Beauty is the language of poetry
And metaphor and irony and ambiguity
And irony -
Beauty is the language of metaphor
And poetry without beauty
Is like poetry without metaphor
Like poetry without simile-
Poetry is poetry
Like beauty is beauty
And metaphor, metaphor
And language language -
Ironically
Without themselves they are something else
Or perhaps another variant of themselves
Ironically.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The language with largest vocabulary
It has only seven letters
And has the largest vocabulary
There is no dearth
Of expression
For any situation or emotion
One same thing
Can mean a million things
King Solomon deciphered
Ants’ impression using this language
Indian mythology has it that
A much revered teacher
Taught all his disciples
Using this language
Clearing their all doubts
On any subject
It is not written
It is not spoken
It is not heard
But has in-depth meaning
And a lot application
It is not formally taught
As it has no syllabus
People pick up this
In their life paths
Some do not just pick this up
But, make excellent use of it
And successfully overcome
Difficult and challenging maneuvers
This language came into being
Long before the creation of this universe
Yes, it is not a just a global language
It is a universal language
This is in use world over
This is a common language
But often not used
This language has no grammar
No problem of spelling words wrong
There are no present, future or past tenses
There is no subject, predicate or object
As there are no sentences framed with this language
When used the person can still keep smiling
Often understood as a consent granted
Even the just new born is
As much as much eloquent
With this language
As the person who is preparing for departure
There is none to teach
But the language is learnt
The language is quoted as golden
As it can hurt no one
Much learned people resort to this
When they are to negotiate
Challenging situations
Some great philosophers
Teach their students
Comprehensively with the use of this language
By using this language
You are sure to win
Great many things
Use this wonder language
Effectively and appropriately
The language of silence
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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In my career, there have been three things that were challenging: playing gay; playing a Jewish woman; and playing Chekhov. The scariest part was playing Chekhov!
quote by Bernadette Peters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry is? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
What is poetry is like asking,
'Why is the sky blue? '
There is no answer to What or Why?
but, in any event,
I shall try.
Poetry flows from my heart through my pen,
down through
its neb,
Like a fly struggling in the web of a spider, waiting
to be free.
What is poetry-who knows-could be as simple as the
morning dew on a rose,
children’s laughter,
a baby’s cry,
a mother crooning a lullaby,
bells chiming loud and clear,
the voices
of those that we hold dear.
Poetry is the language of the soul
It gives us the courage to afford life’s many streams
It expands our horizons to realize our dreams.
To summarize the above
Poetry is the Language of Love
Poetry is the Language of the Soul
Poetry is the Language of Life
over which we have
no control.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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People Everywhere: Social Music (Original 11 03 2009)
PEOPLE EVERYWHERE: SOCIAL MUSIC
Original 11 03 3009
People everywhere over here over there people
In poor bread lines people in pony drawn carriages
People on a chariot with a rumble seat people on a
Climb on a mountain steep people on a dime on a
Corner on Wall Street –street people -people everywhere
Everywhere there’s a drummer. Where you going?
Everywhere you go you go with a beat you go with
Where the music is… where the music is “social man
What’s jazz? ” People everywhere just social that’s all
New Orleans people social all the way up river to
Kansas City on up to Chicago don’t make no difference
If your name is Santiago Obama Bergson Rothschild
Bush just social People -Montrose New York City
People social all the way to Rio Paris Johannesburg
Brazil Belize over all the bridges –London Suez
Toronto Montreal people in a dim café -social
People in church every weekday and everyday
Everywhere there’s a temple play -Joe’s Place
People social man -music social don’t make no
Difference where you get together whoever is playing
Just playing so you keep on playing with everybody
Playing -people play social music man –man or
Woman don’t understand just don’t stop playing
People everywhere want to be there to see it -up here
You playing social music -understand -just don’t
Stop playing -people everywhere get hungry lose
Patience -people everywhere not playing social music
When you stop playing social music people every-
Where stop –trying to figure out why everybody
Stop playing social music -nothing social about
Playing a whole lot of music -nothing truly social
In a lot of music -the next thing you know a short
Spell and before long you got wars breaking out
Stop playing and its hell -that’s not social any more.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permission.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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I enjoy playing other people. It's a great job and it's challenging. I couldn't do a desk job.
quote by Christopher Parker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A language least spoken...
Its not just a cast of words,
a play of rhymes,
an irony of thoughts,
dreamed up hyperboles,
or a medley of figures of speech.
Its a poet's heart,
his only companion,
his muses, his love,
grave pain, agony,
a written laughter.
Its a poets mirror,
in which he shows himself,
his vision,
a sight for the blind,
his thoughts,
touching your lives.
Poetry:
Its though a cast of words,
but uncannily placed in a language,
a language with the same grammar,
but still; least spoken.
poem by Chaitanya Dorwat
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We were playing, not for the drunks, but for the musicians, because it was more intellectually challenging. We needed somewhere to put our energy to show that we were growing, and as we started to achieve this, people came to hear us musically.
quote by Ronnie Hawkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Travel
Cities, buildings falling down
Ideal homes falling down
These pictures I see on the wall
Timeless leaders stand so tall
Assassin in a hit and run
Asia steals a new born son
Evacuees and refugees
Presidents and monarchies
Travel round
I travel round
Decadence and pleasure towns
Tragedies,luxuries,statues,parks and galleries
Europe has a language problem
Talk, talk, talk, talk, talking on
In central europe
Men are marching
Marching on and marching on
Love songs playing in the restaurants
Airport playing bi some lo
Travel round
I travel round
Decadence and pleasure towns
Tragedies,luxuries,statues,parks and galleries
Europe has a language problem
Europe has a language problem
America has a language problem
I travel
Euro-bureau-interpol
Making love to the criminals
Asia has a language problem
I travel
And on and on and on and on and on and on and on
song performed by by Simple Minds, music by Simple Minds, lyrics by J. Kerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Ordinary Language Becomes Poetic
do not worry about images
leave it to the wise imagination of the reader
do not insult his powers
of extending the meaning of your ordinary language
beyond what you
are thinking or saying with utmost intention to drive your point
the poetry of indeterminacy
the meanings hidden in such plain words
as wolf and sheep
shepherd to this staff
river to stones
and clouds to rain and rain and rain and rain
and yes the trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrainnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,
do not be too concerned
with form, the form comes and takes the shape desire before your eyes
what i am driving at is that
ordinary language becomes too poetic when
you shake because it is a very cold rain pouring in your roof
and you have no one
and you have no other place to go and you cannot call him because
he is too busy with other
matters of equal importance
i could be him and you could be her, in this ordinary language of
disappointments
why we met and why we regret the meeting and union
oh, why speak about something too poetic when ordinary language
can be so poetic
about pain, and hypocrisy, and mendicancy
of emotions, She herself is one of the few constant
features
on that landscape.
Wary, as always,
of holistic paradigms for the literary history
of poetry
dynamic, interactive condition of experimental poetry today
i cannot think
of any other recommendation,
Christian Boltanski's simulated documentaries,
I cannot think of a better introduction
to contemporary
poetry, this, oh,
so you understand a thing?
alright, how do you do?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetry cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preserve the languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation. But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Post-Modern Poetry
The post-modern poem is the poet's surprise-
It has no agenda but its own interpretation-
It reads the ‘expressive I' as an infinite longing of the soul
To know and be known-
It writes out of many different places
But finds it difficult to call one its home-
It has many names and voices
But none speaks with an authoritative rhythm -
It is only its own alone home
And so I writing it know
It will not be found in me by those who write it as their own-
Chaos, perhaps, is its signature,
And loss of all the ancient rhythms and forms-
It wants to wander where it will as it does -
But I, I thinking back to what we were
And remembering years of reading others
Know too its voices are many even within the single self-
There is no ‘modern' anymore and no ‘post- modern' either
In the age where everything is accessible
And all is easily found and communicated
The single soul's signature cannot mean a name is real -
Only where all effort is and fails
Only where nobody really is
Only where many write and no one can really read
Perhaps beyond this
Beyond post- modern poetry
This poem too will teach Poetry how to live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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And I had known Peter O'Toole before in London. And I'd liked him very much. And the thought of being in a picture with him was very challenging to me. And he was playing the starring role.
quote by Anthony Quinn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Romanian Language
Sweet, melodious there’s no other
like my language in this world,
From the lips of my grandmother,
every word is shining pearled.
It is born straight from the Light,
Sunrise over the Black Sea,
To hear it is a delight,
Oh, how great is my love for thee!
My Romanian language, a treasure
Safely kept inside my soul,
Then released with grace and leisure,
Golden words that made me whole.
You can hear it in the leaves,
when you walk with Eminescu,
In the secret of the breeze,
Trying lovely to impress you.
It is there in melodies,
In the waves of the Danube
In Enescu’s rhapsodies
I can hear it, so can you.
It is there in poetry,
Written in book after book,
Our language molded me,
Blaga, Goga, and Cosbuc.
If you carefully listen,
If you have the time and patience,
I am sure you too can hear it,
At “The Table of Silence”
At “The Endless Column”
With Brancusi dreaming along
Our language so solemn
Like an old, enchanted gong.
In the mountains and the valleys,
In the rivers in the springs,
In the meadows and green alleys,
Unseen angels, touching strings.
Is the language of the songs,
Shepherds playing the whistle for their sheep,
Is that sound where love belongs,
Mama's singing you to sleep.
poem by Marius Alexandru
Submitted by anonym
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A World Poetry Day!
Everyday is ever poetry day for poet!
World poetry day is poetry celebration
Especially for world people to honour
Poetry of all writings of the world ever!
Novels, stories and articles are in vogue
But poetry cannot be ever left as vague!
Matter of a book, a few pages of story or
An article of length Poetry says in a line!
Poetry is the essence of matters in nutshell,
A seed that grows into big tree with leaves,
Flowers and fruits to please and guide all
To live life better loving Nature and lives!
Sans the inspiration of religious philosophy
Said in echoing verses of world where is it
One can get solace and wisdom to face woes
Struggling on the ocean of life to swim or sink?
Poetry is oldest of old medium yet a modern one
Brief as telegraphic language conveying message
Beautifully, musically and echoingly as mantra
In avatars new ever using words and forms old!
World celebration of poetry day today is wonder
For poets and lovers of poetry on modern websites
Just as enjoying old wine in new bottles all over
World of human beings unique in whole Universe!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Romanian Language
Sweet, melodious there’s no other
like my language in this world,
From the lips of my grandmother,
every word is shining pearled.
It is born straight from the Light,
Sunrise over the Black Sea,
Just to hear it it’s a delight,
Oh, how great’s my love for thee!
My Romanian language, a treasure
Safely kept inside my soul,
Then released with grace and leisure,
Golden words that made me whole.
You can hear it in the leaves,
when you walk with Eminescu,
In the secret of the breeze,
Trying lovely to impress you.
It is there in melodies,
In the waves of the Danube
In Enescu’s rhapsodies
I can hear it, so can you.
It is there in poetry,
Written in book after book,
Our language molded me,
Blaga, Goga, and Cosbuc.
If you carefully listen,
If you have the time and patience,
I am sure you too can hear it,
At “The Table of Silence”
At “The Endless Column”
With Brancusi dreaming along
Our language so solemn
Like an old, enchanted gong.
In the mountains and the valleys,
In the rivers in the springs,
In the meadows and green alleys,
Unseen angels, touching strings.
Is the language of the songs,
Shepherds playing for their sheep,
Is a sound where love belongs,
Mama’s singing you to sleep.
poem by Marius Alexandru from Doruri Sfinte (August 2018)
Submitted by anonym
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A Poem's Language
a poem has it's own language
if a poet uses the glamour of the language
in his poem...the language
would stand out
if a poet shows his versatality over the language
in his poem...the poet
would stand out
the poet and the language should
lose themselves in the poem...for
the poem to speak it's own language
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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When You Ask Me to Critique
When you ask me to critique,
With an opinion that is honest.
Don't expect me to deceive you...
With a sweetened tongue.
And the taste I leave you...
Hints of a bit of salt.
As you prepare to deliver to me pepper.
When you ask me to critique...
I go for the meat.
Not the heat,
When one may be wishing to be honey dipped.
Or perhaps thrown a kiss!
When you ask me to critique,
There is no sweetness dripped!
Unless the offering is fantastic.
And hits a spot I can not resist...
But sit,
And enjoy every nibble of it!
When you ask me to critique.
That's what I will do!
But I rather not to.
Since like you...
I don't enjoy everything I am served.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ramdas, Start Talking With New Language!
Ramdas, start Talking with New Language,
Talk with people and every life,
That language which can take world to new dimension,
Or world shine with beauty and freshness,
Be the one among builders of new world!
Language of love and acceptance,
language that comes from the
depth of the heart,
affectionate and humble,
language that is full of gratitude,
Free of doubts and fear, Language of smile and presence
of mind,
Mindfulness which uses silence
and words well balanced,
the world to new dimensions,
Make world Look like a new world in the light of wisdom!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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I would like more challenging roles. I definitely would like to something that's more challenging.
quote by Morris Chestnut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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