There's hope for hypocrites...
Yes, there’s hope for hypocrites –
hypocrite poets, who write
from the goodness of their hearts
of the good, the true, the beautiful;
out of the chaos of the well-intentioned
and sometime messy life;
hypocrite readers, who turn
to those same poets for reminders of
the good, the true, the beautiful
out of the chaos of the well-intentioned
and sometimes messy life;
(hypocrite editors, dare we add, who,
knowing the good, the true, the beautiful,
turn down our poems, because
it’s been said oft and better, long before…)
the blessing for all hypocrites
is that they know better; and one day…
may match their actions to their words;
words, well-intentioned, sometimes messy,
written from the goodness of their heart;
and in the heart, as given timeless time,
hypocrisy dissolves…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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The true the good and the beautiful
They go together
& so even if you are good but not true
then you are not beautiful,
and even if you are beautiful
but you are not true then you are not good
or even if you are true but then you are not good
then you are not beautiful
always remember that
they always go together so for you to be beautiful
and really beautiful
you must be also good and you must be always true,
this is the goodness of truth and its beauty
that all depends on you, now i can go, so please be
the true, the good and the beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The true the good and the beautiful
They go together
& so even if you are good but not true
then you are not beautiful,
and even if you are beautiful
but you are not true then you are not good
or even if you are true but then you are not good
then you are not beautiful
always remember that
they always go together so for you to be beautiful
and really beautiful
you must be also good and you must be always true,
this is the goodness of truth and its beauty
that all depends on you, now i can go, so please be
the true, the good and the beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Only I Could Write A Beautiful Poem
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would write it special and only to you
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
So that we will forever remain so very very true
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
With more than a goodness like something new
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
Like the everlasting stay of the sky so blue
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would pray to God
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would work very hard for the Lord
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
With happiness the remain all through the year
f only I could write a beautiful love poem
Knowing that you will be very near
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
One so very very true
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would write it just for you
poem by Douglas Carter
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Seventeen
we shall start being true
to ourselves like how the world
started
in light, we shall start being true
to others
that give us light too,
words and actions
all true
all so beautiful to touch and hear
and too beautiful
to our smell
and so good to our sight
our eyes too
so beautiful
how we look at ourselves
inside us
then when all these are gathered together
like some firewood and leaves and
cinders
we shall burn
we have fire
we have smoke to offer to the skies
then as we inhale and exhale the last fires
within us
we shall begin again from the beginning
we are not ready to write everything
every detail
of that fire that kept us burning
in our hearts that keep on loving
soon they will
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And Then We Shall Write The Truth
we shall start being true
to ourselves like how the world
started
in light, we shall start being true
to others
that give us light too,
words and actions
all true
all so beautiful to touch and hear
and too beautiful
to our smell
and so good to our sight
our eyes too
so beautiful
how we look at ourselves
inside us
then when all these are gathered together
like some firewood and leaves and
cinders
we shall burn
we have fire
we have smoke to offer to the skies
then as we inhale and exhale the last fires
within us
we shall begin again from the beginning
we are not ready to write everything
every detail
of that fire that kept us burning
in our hearts that keep on loving
soon they will
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Words
Yeats so simply stated
' Words alone are certain good. '
And to the great poet
So highly rated
I try to listen, as I should; Yet
Being an untrained novice
Such as me
With verdant hopes of much improvement
- oh that I would -
I beg to slightly differ with W. B.
And offer here my humble opinion
- if I could -
Good certainly is not words alone,
For without humanity
To read and to write
How would they ever become known?
- For without the good of people
Who of these words would care
Ever to be heard, or even shared?
No, the good does not alone from words arise,
Rather from human beings
Whose entire story
Such words do attempt to comprise.......
- Words written in this time
May even the way
To a distant future find,
But not on their own
And never alone.
For it takes people's
- hand's to write
- eye's to read
- heart and soul to understand
The purpose, and the need.
Let it here be shown
Words alone
Are not the only good,
They need human beings
To give goodness and life
To their reason and meaning
For they are merely the vehicle
By which man's true good
Is found and understood.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Beautiful Music
Before I knew that I was blessed
When I was just like the rest of the people
Who never let dreams in their minds
Music would play and say
Maybe you're wastin' your time
Before I knew what good could be
When I couldn't see the need or the reason
For trusting in me or my star
Music would play and say
Hey, what a dummy you are!
And when I heard all the words about passion
Singin' to me about love of a fashion
That I never heard anywhere else
That's when I said,
"Gotta get some of that for myself"
And when I heard about hurtin' and healin'
Beautiful words about beautiful feelings
What lots of believin' could do
Beautiful music, I knew it just had to be true
You're beautiful
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Before I saw my life in lights
When I couldn't taste the nights I was missin'
I'd listen alone in my bed
And music would sing to me
Things no one else even said
And when I heard all the words about passion
Singin' to me about love of a fashion
That I never heard anywhere else
That's when I said,
"Gotta get some of that for myself"
And when I heard about hurtin' and healin'
Beautiful words about beautiful feelings
What lots of believin' could do
Beautiful music, I knew it just had to be true
You're beautiful
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful Music
Beautiful, Beautiful Music
-acapo
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Sermon
at the pulpit
he keeps reciting the three attributes of God
that God is true
that God is beautiful
that God is good
no one disagrees on this
soliloquy
have i really felt this?
some questions keep on propping
inside my mind
in the middle of this crowd
and uniformity
is something true always good?
will good be always beautiful?
what about the bitterness of the true life?
what about the ugliness of the desired good?
shall a good feeling be not wrong sometimes?
the bitter herbs of life has good teachings too.
the badness of failures make us strong and vigilant.
and so on and so forth...
and then it is time to leave, sometimes an end is good.
like life, like death
like the beauty of a fading sunset
like the cover of the darkness
like the coming of dusk
like the birth of a new day...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You're a Beautiful Dream Come True
It's so, it's so
so hard to say,
and I feel, I feel,
feel like I'm lost in this maze,
life will never be the same
this is when things change.
This song, this song,
explains how I feel,
and life, and life,
life seems too good to be true,
when I look at your eyes,
I find my way.
It's so plain to see,
my whole world's complete with you,
cause baby you're beautiful,
you're a beautiful dream come true.
And as time goes by,
I'm falling more and more for you,
cause girl you're beautiful,
you're a beautiful dream come true.
With you, with you,
nothing else really matters,
and I know, I know,
I know deep inside,
that you feel the same,
so let's make the change.
Let go, let go,
let go of your past now,
when I'cant, I'cant,
cant find my way,
I'll look at your face,
and my heart says.
It's so plain to see,
my whole world's complete with you,
cause baby you're beautiful,
you're a beautiful dream come true.
And as time goes by,
I'm falling more and more for you,
cause girl you're beautiful,
you're a beautiful dream come true.
It's so plain to see,
my whole world's complete with you,
cause baby you're beautiful,
you're a beautiful dream come true.
And as time goes by,
I'm falling more and more for you,
cause girl you're beautiful,
you're a beautiful dream come true.
Yea, you're a beautiful dream come true.
poem by Juan Carrasquillo Jr
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So Many Poets
so many poets
so many poems
all popping up like mushrooms after the lightning and thunder
no one comes to see
no one comes to say the mushrooms are not so white not so good
so many poems
so many poets
the readers are few, the readers are lesser
but what can you do?
what do you expect?
well, i am just writing my diary, and i am the reader who reads it myself
to ease this pain,
to let myself know that with all my unrequited loves, i still dare to write
and exist.
and i don't really care.
so many poets
look at these poems
they all look and sound the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Have I Told You...
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
You Are Indeed Beautiful
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
Have I told you, my beautiful one, that I love you?
One Mans Opinion
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
©Joe Fazio
Beautiful Are You...
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
Have I told you, my beautiful one, that I love you?
We are blessed to know, one who is as beautiful
as you, in so many ways.
P.S.
I love you.
Looking Through The Window
I try to look away. I'm trying to forget those days, when the lights were a little more bright, when the sun smiled down upon me. I was so happy. But not now, not even with a pen. To write it away. What a game I play. Work to forget. Party with no regrets. Such a hypocrite, with all the words said. No going back. Their is no contract. I set them a fire so long ago. Do remember 96 and all the snow. We built our castles, with no idea of the hassles. It took so much so we could live comfortably. We didn't, we didn't, we didn't know. I wonder how it would have changed if I did. Could of, should of, would of is utter nonsense. Theirs a pile over there. Try not to stare or compare. So what if life isn't fair. Don't you dare. Such a hypocrite. Do the best you can. Damn them all. Don't let this be the cause of your fall. Walk that tight rope. Never look down. So full of hope. Hope gives the less fortunate the power to change everything. A voice is heard over, under societies reach. Tell me, tell me have you been here before? Tell me, tell me whats the score? How much is too much? Greed is factored by the necessity to live beyond ones means. What do you need to give. Everyone costantly is taking shots at you. Like you really know what your doing. Chooseing the forsaken over the forgiven. So be it. I hope one day you see it.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hypocrites in the Church? Yes, and in the lodge and at the home. Don't hunt through the Church for a hypocrite. Go home and look in the mirror. Hypocrites? Yes. See that you make the number one less.
quote by Billy Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poets Are Holy Hypocrites
poets are holy hypocrites;
it’s their blessing and their curse.
they sit for as long as it takes
like terriers at a foxhole
or for second-best practice,
at a rabbit-hole,
totally still, alert, all their powers
poured into attention;
what a lesson dogs
are for humans
then – a movement in
their consciousness; it could be
anything creative – a film, a poem;
and with it comes the sense
of wonder; they are as children
living in an eternal present
of the universe as gift;
they take up their pen or keyboard
and, so carefully, as they
would handle a new-born baby,
write down this spell for that it is
for the benefit of others quite unknown
and then like a christening shawl,
white, soft, handmade with love,
offer it to the world.
then some who believe its magic
read the spell, are reborn
or cured, or restored
to good health and humour
or simply have a good day
while those who don’t believe the spell,
well of course the magic doesn’t work for them
so far so very good. But then
those who aren’t into wanting spells
and have opinions about
their opinions, say, that word is wrong,
so it’s not a magic spell. it’s a bad spell,
in fact it’s not a spell at all
and others who also have opinions
about their opinions, say, that word is right,
so it’s a good and magic spell; and there they are,
all crowded round peering through their
dirty glasses, pushing and shoving and shouting
to get nearer the spell and have their say
and oh dear, there's the poet in there too
saying oh do you really think that
I'd better look at it again
and see if you might be right
and sad to say, some poets
begin to worry, about whether
the words of their spell are quite right
not trusting the magic, as if
it came from them and not from itself...
and the magic shrugs its shoulders
and says oh well and goes some place else
where it might be more appreciated
poets are holy hypocrites;
it’s their blessing and their curse
[with more than a little acknowledgement to the vision of Michael Leunig, cartoonist and Living National Treasure]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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