Ages And Ages
Boundless ages destroy my feelings,
Dejected I bind the pages of my book.
Yielding pages are fluttering in my wake,
A rough machine manages the electric.
I have paused and stared into the abyss,
Reluctant and sorry for the ages that went;
This goal is yours also, to mightily surround
Us in our speech, working towards a righteousness.
Bouncing into the ocean I navigate
And stretch forming tatters, splatters and matters.
This swimming learnt will aid my life
To overcome the riddle I have experienced.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
Hated and Loved
Hated are the cruel of the ages,
Their emotions are stronger than stone and pages.
Hated are the young of the ages,
Where are endeavours, the support and fences?
Hated are the sportsmen of the ages
Who cancel their dreams and farmhouses.
Hated are the professions of the ages
That send messages.
Hated are men and women of the ages
Who work with people in the madhouses.
Hatred is a disease we conquered when love sustained us,
When love was cherished in absoluteness.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Rest Is History
Saw you across the room
Felt somethin stir inside my soul
Knew Id never be the same
Now that love had taken hold
Then when you touched me
There was no doubt
You unterstood what my heart was all about
And the rest is history
The story of you and me
For all eternity
The record will show
Well fill up the pages
Romance for the ages
There for the world to see
The rest ist history
Before we spoke a word
My heart told me you were the one
When you pressed your hand to mine
I knew my life had just begun
Like some old movie
Music filled the night
Lost held each other tight.
And the rest is history
The story of you and me
For all eternity
The record will show
Well fill up the pages
Romance for the ages
There for the world to see
The rest ist history
And the rest is history
The story of you and me
For all eternity
The record will show
Well fill up the pages
Romance for the ages
There for the world to see
The rest ist history
History ...
The rest is history.
The rest is history.
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Book, Trees and Leaves
The book
at the used book store
had a leaf pressed between its pages,
its veins showing;
pressed flat
and brown;
an unwilling bookmark-
the pages of the ages.
The tree
its mother,
died for those pages
her offspring
flattened out
upon mother's page breast
tiny lines and squiggles
between the veins;
no tree can read
no leaf can comprehend.
I take the leaf to give it a proper burial
in the compost heap
so that its remains
have a small chance
of one day
becoming part of a tree.
I lay its leafy body down
thinking;
'I think I shall never see
anything a lovely as a tree.'
In years
a bookmark it will make
upon my backyard landscape
marking Nature's Chapter entitled
'Ironies.'
.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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In Between
in between the monotonous pages
of this book of life
some dog ears are inserted
the red tassels protruding like a tongue
saying nothing
not even some slips of the memories
within are the serious
delicate matters such as incessant wars
of mankind and the impulses of greed
i scan the pages till the end
i have not seen such chapters as giving in
to humanity
that innate goodness, i hurry to find it
not even in the appendix
someone inserted in this book
a letter
it says, love has long been gone
and no one knows where it is going.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Memory Place
Shelves tower over me; crowed with bound pages
of events, people, places, ideas.
Of memories.
Of captured feelings pressed like flowers between the pages;
for people to be inspired by someone else's words.
My eyes caress the titles printed on bright spines
as I run my fingers across
what holds the memories together.
I pick up a book, turning yellowed pages,
the scent of gentle time traveling to my nose.
I close my eyes and smile:
it brings back memories of my own,
but these pages are not for me.
I put back the soft bundle of pages
and continued to search in the Memory Place
until I find my own belonging among the words.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Pages
Written by dewey bunnell and gerry beckley, 1998
Found on human nature.
In this bookcase full of stories
You find some of them are true
Tales of love and glory
Many lives of daring-do
There is mystery and adventure
They lie waiting there for you
So step inside and find the other you
Take the high road tomorrow
But the low road today
Reading others sorrow
Might just be the only way
The father hears confession
While the mothers feeling blue
These characters do what you want them to
In these pages we consume
Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
And through the ages words are born
Speaking to the senses lifting the forlorn
Theres glamour and dementia
A message from the tomb
Staircase to the heavens
And secrets in the room
When you are riding on that dark horse
To the one that got away
Theres no regrets and no dues left to pay
cause in these pages we consume
Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
And through the ages words are born
Speaking to the senses lifting the forlorn
Drifting down the river of the make believe
We laugh and grieve
Hoping for an ending of our own design
Where all is fine
In these pages we consume
Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
And through the ages words are born
Speaking to the senses lifting the forlorn
In these pages we consume
Lives in many colors lovers in full bloom
And through the ages words are born... (fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode To My Father
Your voice
Like bell tones
Rung unforgotten
Melodies in my ears.
Your life:
A text book for the ages.
On this side
Of eternity
Without a complaint,
You lived
Outside the pages.
When you are called
This heart
Will pound with praises.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Destiny Life Leaf Pages
manuscripts we all life write
destiny life leaf pages
some leave empty pages white
others shimmer reflecting light
some smear pages with dirt
record chaos rip rub out hurt
how shall we fill manuscript pages...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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The Book Of My Life
Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book I'm afraid to write
It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And it's all there to see as the section reveals
There's some sorrow in every life
If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days
I'm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life
There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
There's a page where we fail to meet
There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned
There's a chapter on god that I don't understand
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Now the daylight's returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all that's left is you
Though the pages are number
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
(words & music by bill strange - scott davis)
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine
Quiet thought come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories
Of holding hands and red bouquets
And twilight trimmed in purple haze
And laughing eyes and simple ways
And quiet nights and gentle days with you
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine,
Memories, memories, sweet memories
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And when I'm writing, I write a lot anyway. I might write pages and pages of conversation between characters that don't necessarily end up in the book, or in the story I'm working on, because they're simply my way of getting to know the characters.
quote by Norton Juster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Second Hand Books
Books! Books! Books! There are so many different designs.
There are some which, by the author, are personally signed.
Some books have pages with gilt edges, which look all posh.
Some have nice pictures on their covers, which are embossed.
Some books have hard covers, while some have soft.
Some are all dusty, where they’ve been kept in the loft.
Some books have fancy covers; some just have plain.
Some have suffered mishaps, and are now all stained.
Some books are all dog-eared at the corners of their pages.
Some have gone yellow, where they’ve been around ages.
Inside some books, there can be seen a pencilled name;
Someone, who once, on this particular book, had a claim.
Some are obviously well read; their spines are all creased.
From out of a book, amazing adventures can be unleashed.
Some books have pages which are spoiled or a bit torn.
Some have covers which are grubby and look well worn.
Some just have text, while others also include illustrations.
Some are former prize winners; once the toast of the nation.
There are books by famous authors, as well as the lesser known.
Some are former library books which, to the public, were loaned.
There are romances, poetry, classics, sci-fi, humour, and histories;
Gardening, cookery, travel, thrillers, manga, and murder mysteries.
In wooden bookcases, the books are categorised, and are neatly lined.
In a second hand bookshop, you just never know what you may find.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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There is a difference between a book of two hundred pages from the very beginning, and a book of two hundred pages which is the result of an original eight hundred pages. The six hundred are there. Only you don't see them.
quote by Elie Wiesel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lodestar and a wayfarer
In the Ocean of life,
This mysterious ship
Heads without a rudder;
Please guide me in the rough seas
As some pages of the book
'Rules of the road'
Washed by the cruel waves
And the precious compass disappeared.
You are so high,
And I believe you see the obstacles
Which I cannot see through my fungi-lens telescope.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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In An Old Diary
Faded pink petals
tween old yellowed pages
In a time worn ol’ diary
Filled with eras and ages
Leaves, red and golden
Pressed between old yellowed pages
Of old diaries beholden
to lives unfolded stages
Still linger on pages
Faint aromas and memories
Of phases and stages
All now, long lost histories
Tarnished brass clasps
Still holds e’er so tight
As did young hands once grasp
To their breast in the night
Fervent feelings writ in faded black ink
Young hopeful yearnings from the past
Love and longing, an enduring link
Diaries, as do lives, grow old e’er so fast
on withered old hands one laid on the other
Lines of blue veins trace out as a map
In repose on a tattered old cover
Of an old diary, in an old lady’s lap
poem by David Whalen
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The Barricades Of Heaven
Running down around the towns along the shore
When I was sixteen and on my own
No, I couldnt tell you what the hell those brakes were for
I was just trying to hear my song
Jimmy found his own sweet sound and won that free guitar
Wed all get in the van and play
Life became the paradox, the bear, the rouge et noir
And the stretch of road running to l.a.
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from
All the world was shining from those hills
The stars above and the lights below
Among those there to test their fortunes and their wills
I lost track of the score long ago
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from
Childhood comes for me at night
Voices of my friends
Your face bathing me in light
Hope that never ends
Pages turning
Pages torn and pages burning
Faded pages, open in the sun
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from.
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from.
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Book
My life is a leaf
Bind together in a book
Written
With sweat and blood
Pages after pages
With the taste of Pain and joy
Every emotion
Big or small
Fully charged
Packed and sealed
Every incident
Recoded in details
For the experience
Good or bad
If you want to learn
Whether there is any love
For you and mankind
You just need to turn
The page number twenty one
Chapter after chapter
Written with mixture
Of success and failure
If any one
Written badly
And Tastes sour
It is my life
Full of blood and flesh
Please pass on to another
poem by Abdul Wahab
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If you get a book which is 600 pages, you have to reduce it to a script of 100 pages. In two hours of film, you cannot possibly include all the characters.
quote by Dino De Laurentiis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Ages
I am coming out of dark ages
And I lived half way through my life
Also I got my hand dirty in the mud a long time ago
I did it and got my tshirt and that job is over
I am coming out of dark ages
Because I spent most of my life in dark ages
And I saw so many dark skies while I went through my life in dark ages
I am coming ou of the dark ages
To help the children in their daily life
By teaching what is right and wrong
Because the children needs to learn what is right and wrong
So they don't became a criminal when they grew up
Because here on earrth are full of criminals already and we have more than What we can handle
I am coming out of the dark ages
To show my love to the children that lives here on the earth with us
I am coming out of the dark ages
Because I want to play with the children everyday here on the earth Because I know that I can make the children happy for once
poem by Aldo Kraas
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