By Sages
Where are so many of those other pages?
The books are allowed to be written by sages.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
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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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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Statues Of Sages
Some statues of sages are requested
For the staying is theirs.
Caught by the realm, we provide a problem
For the stationary sort of creatures.
Sages command me further than me,
They write according to paintings,
Their amusements reveal us as we speak.
Understand the men who accomplish
And their survival is needed by the few.
Reading books of authority
We as statues are also sages.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Blank Pages
Blank pages
Blank books
Lie with only drowning white
No pretty messages in the sand
No clocks to turn a hand
Blank pages
Blank books
Looking into an empty void
Like staring at purgatory
Words with no meaning making up a story
Blank pages
Blank books
Stay staring at the celing
Empty without effort
Nothing without words
poem by Autumn Winds
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Written In Blood And Love
In pages written in blood, in pages written love.
Stories are told of you grow old together.
Live to dieing forever.
Scarred by the pain of misery.
Scarred by the imperfections the have created so many rejections.
Give me the antidote to the poison that I have slipped in my own drink.
Let me breath the life in again.
Drowned out all the cowardliness of my angel who holding me up.
Such a beautiful crutch.
Still in the pages written in blood, in the pages written love.
We are just one of millions.
Every story is the same.
All that's changed is the names, places, and faces.
Erase it all.
Rewrite the entire fall.
Let the wind take me.
Let the lightning strike me here and now.
For i will not let it cloud my judgement.
No matter the storm that's brought on.
In the pages written in blood, in the pages written in love
Hate me for the right reasons
Hate me because I am what you wanted me to be.
In all the irony.
I didn't change for you.
It was done way before you came along and sang your song.
All the pages have been written, in blood and love.
The Shakespeare play Romeo and Juliet to the fullest.
Its the cruelest games in tragedy strikes without a ounce of leniency.
No mercy to those who are jumping without a life line.
Protection against the evil of an accident so quick.
A slip becomes a fall.
Next your trying to stall buy a little time.
But its in vain.
Nothing can be changed.
Its sink or swim till you reach shore.
So long off stripped of everything you thought was important.
Values so mixed up in these pages written in blood, in the pages written in love.
We have killed another pair of doves.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Rebecca Berkowitz
She writes love on her arms
Drips it on pages
Goes to the bathroom
to
pick her nose
Then
worships the sages
Don't look now
She's playful
Written by Sara Fielder © 2012
poem by Sara Fielder
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Enigma of the closed books [Enigma cărţilor închise]
Immaculate fair pages written by hands on which the humble time has placed
Its everlasting emblems with much haste!
O, thoughts withered in closed books
O, cold deeps opened in paradises with good looks
O, written dreams flowing like brooks!
There are mournful books whose mystic thrills
As light as quills
Garland any dumb disaster
With horizons blue or pale like alabaster,
Inoculating deeply the nightly statues with gestures mirrored
By the lakes full of mystery
And tranquility.
There are books in mourning
Full of tanned longing,
There are books whose chants full of gloom
Wake up and stir the pangs in the royal tomb...
When the doleful rhythm of the ballads without sound
Resurrects, vibrates, contemplates and falls to the ground
Or in the waterfalls around
The pale dreams will retire in nooks.
O, the eerie enigma of the closed books!...
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Pages Of My Mind
Faces from my past flicker
through the pages of my mind
along with shadowy figures
I wish I had left behind.
Old loves and new loves
smile and say hello as they pass
through the pages of my mind.
They come in quiet moments
when I am at peace with the world.
Reflecting images of times left behind.
There are no future images,
as those pages haven’t been written yet,
only ones from a distant past.
They stroll across with happy moments
written on the pages of my mind.
11 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Lines Extracted From A Dream
'I think of it like a book,
I dont care for your self-authored words
of pity and sorrow, though yes they are just.
It isn't the narrative in you that interests me...
It is those blank pages in you that hold my court,
All books have them; those blank pages at the end,
Unfilled and undetermined, where you havent yet scribbled.
They are yet to be subject to anything,
And even if they are not destined for a happily ever after,
That does not mean i can't hope to find solace and closure in them.
What is to stop us writing our own fable in spite of what is already written?
What already is, is,
But what will be is ours to fathom through the velvet folds Of fate.
Surely.'
poem by Graham Stone
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Other people, including me, have written books with main characters who were old and rich. Or old and brilliant. Old sages, old wizards, old rich people.
quote by Elizabeth Moon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We went to the British Museum, and I was looking up my family in the books - pages and pages on it.
quote by Nicholas Lea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And after I compose my programs, but it is very easy because I look to the music in a very natural way without fuss, and so I look always music, in my home, like books and books and books, choose books and you read the pages, so I do this with music, and I make programs.
quote by Victoria de los Angeles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written
It is terminated, finished and complete,
The writing on the pages of my book.
I have learnt of the distress, the look of disease,
Such as intelligence and wisdom of hard strength.
My books are distributed like flowers and their petals,
Gusts and gales spoil the air, the wind must be strong.
The written words condemn nature if laughing is provided,
The birds think and the animals speak,
Of my words.
The books are abolished one day,
But energy is preserved for the one day.
My career is suddenly with words one day.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dream On
EVERY TIME THAT I LOOK IN THE MIRROR
ALL THESE LINES IN MY FACE GETTIN' CLEARER
THE PAST IS GONE;
IT WENT BY LIKE DUST TO DAWN
ISN'T THAT THE WAY
EVERYBODY'S GOT THEIR DUES IN LIFE TO PAY ?
I KNOW NOBODY KNOWS
WHERE IT COMES AND WHERE IT GOES
I KNOW IT'S EVERYBODY'S SIN;
YOU GOT TO LOSE TO KNOW HOW TO WIN.
HALF MY LIFE'S IN BOOKS WRITTEN PAGES
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The human mind is not capable of grasping the Universe. We are like a little child entering a huge library. The walls are covered to the ceilings with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written these books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. But the child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books - a mysterious order which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects.
quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rarest Books
The rarest books on earth
Are the books
We are not allowed to read
poem by David Kush
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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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Dream On (live, MTVIcon)
Every time that I look in the mirror
All these lines in my face gettin' clearer
The past is gone;
It went by like dusk to dawn
Isn't that the way?
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay
I know nobody knows
Where it comes and where it goes
I know it's everybody's sin;
You got to lose to know how to win.
Half my life's in books' written pages,
Live and learn from fools and from sages
You know it's true,
All the feelings
Come back to you.
Sing with me,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear.
Sing it with me
If it's just for today,
Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away.
(aaaaaaaaa...)
Sing with me,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear.
Sing it with me
If it's just for today,
Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away.
(come on )
Dream on, dream on, dream on,
Dream yourself a dream come true.
Dream on, dream on, dream on,
Dream until your dream comes true.
Dream on, Dream on, Dream on,
Dream, Dream ,Dream come true
Dream on, Dream on, Dream on, Dream on
Dream on, Dream on, Dream on (aaa...)
song performed by by Train
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Censorship ends in logical completeness when nobody is allowed to read any books except the books that nobody reads.
quote by George Bernard Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Written In Red
I am written in red,
I am sliding across the page of life.
I am racing across the lines of language.
I am red.
I write words,
I create lines and sentences,
I am kept in solitude
I am red.
I create paragraphs.
I create signatures.
I know what you're thinking before you speak,
I am red.
I cannot breath because I am enclosed in a capsule.
A capsule that covers the knowledge inside.
All I do is stare at pages,
All I know is pages,
I become apart of the pages,
And the pages become apart of me.
I become apart of english,
I become apart of words,
I am RED.
BY: Takisha Fields
poem by Kiesha fields
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