Eminent Scholar
Creaking crushed me when I spoke,
A civil chain chased my law of beliefs.
The eminence of a scholar spoke one day,
This denouement from a man was outspoken.
Daily, we are in the book of his writing,
This academic has authority of life;
His debut worked on my time as a day
That warned as a fitness, as a legality.
He is a daydreamer, a worker of books
And life, that worked one day like a book
Hazy and obscure, like one of the laziest
Volumes, yet the eminence of a scholar
Is accused when we begin, when we say.
poem by Naveed Akram
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If I Were A Poem
If I were a poem
And you were a book
Would you ever read me
Could you take a look
Would you be my rhythm
While I would be a rhyme
Would you even know me
By feeling inside my mind.
And if I were a poem
And you were a book
Would you understand me
With the feelings I have shook
Would you be my reader
With words I have spoke
Then I would believe her
With feelings I have wrote.
If I were a Poet
And you were an Author
Would you ever know it
That I too was a scholar
Would you be my leaf
If I were the tree
Would you feel a need
Could you feel a belief.
If I had the power
And you were the seed
I would be a flower
And you would be like me.
But I am just a pen
And you are my thoughts
You are my poems
And I am what I sought.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Sarah Palin - now don't laugh - is writing a book. Not just reading a book, writing a book. Actually, in the word of the publisher, she's 'collaborating' on a book. What an embarrassment! It's one of these 'I told you,' books that jocks do.
quote by Chris Matthews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Non-starter and his nook
His clock has stopped for some days
and he is not interested of time.
But the time is passing
and he is not worried.
His room is full of incomplete writing papers
but the book is not finished yet
and the publisher's advance has spent.
The spirits evaporated and the empty bottles
rolled here and there.
He writes and erase then spill again
but the spineless characters
won't stay any longer in his book.
and they all run away.
He heard the siren of an ambulance
and the scholar takes for Schizophrenia?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The great scholar forgets about fame, the average scholar works for it, and the unworthy scholar steals it.
The Book Of Love
In the book of love come of age
When you lose your love, you turn the page
Hey-ho the book of love,
Life is written in your own blood
Say forever and it all sounds fine
When youre holding hands,
With the hands of time
Hey-ho the book of love
Laugh at the dead but tomorrow you cry
Chorus:
My broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Change of lovers endlessly
And this book of love is writing me
Chapter 2 you walk away
But in chapter 3 a man made me stay
Hey-ho the book of love
Why dontcha look up
All the games you played
Chorus
Theyll be sweet love in a darkness
But the book of love
Is a story of your loneliness
Finger tipped it on a holy night
And a page is ripped for a name of life
Check the back cause the datell be due
When theyll throw the book of love at you
They are broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Disappointed right to be
Celebrate a celebrity
K-i-s-s-i-n-g
Ah stupid cupid set me free
Took a look and whatll I see
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Authority of Self Expression
Who are you to choose what I do is not suitable?
And...
Who made you the authority of self expression?
Who fell ill and was left crazed?
Who announced you a scholar of prim and proper ways?
Chill that lip around me, please.
My days weren't hand fed by a highly paid nanny.
Nor did I grow to know life through chit chat and gossip.
However...
I have experienced 'intelligent ignorance'.
You know...
The kind that is confined to reading books,
To uncover an interpretation of correctness and etiquette.
Written by someone who deplores common sense.
And suffocates from a corked behind.
That is the way from here it looks.
As if someone is walking,
Trying their best to hold tightly onto a thin dime.
Who are you to choose what I do is not suitable?
And...
Who made you the authority of self expression?
And...
Who announced you a scholar of prim and proper ways?
Who fell ill and was left crazed?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why.............?
The American book of 'why',
The Asian book of 'why',
The European book of 'why',
The African book of 'why',
The Australian book of 'why',
The most asked question in the valley of world events;
Especially when one explodes a bomb!
The Christian book of 'why',
The Muslim book of 'why',
The Jewish book of 'why',
The Hindu book of 'why',
The Krishna book of 'why',
lLife is like the yeast which makes the bread rise;
But, the writer always has his or her own mind.
The Pagan book of 'why',
The Buddhist book of 'why',
The Protestant book of 'why',
The Confucian book of 'why',
To all life's aspects with the remaining books of 'why';
Poetry is the literature that muses with the mind.
Shall the trumpet be blown in the city and,
The people will not be afraid?
Seven bulls and seven rams,
I am the planted tree by the rivers of waters.
I am very young in years but,
The word 'why' is the question that goes around easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To Give Service With A Knowledge
Not at all am I impressed,
By those focused upon one vision interpreted...
As the only version of success.
To obtain a degree or certificate that expresses,
An ability to achieve the purchasing of things.
To keep hoarded to dust in a treasure chest.
Yet...
Not an attempt is made to influence,
With an effectiveness that benefits others...
That whatever they do to do it at their best.
With a difference made they too can attest,
To witness 'if' they worked at it and wished less.
But the ones who pray to keep their fortunes intact,
Seem often to be...
The ones who claim they are highly favored.
As if The Creator welcomes that kind of self-centered,
Self indulgence!
Glad I am to have been raised,
By a mother who placed emphasis on faith.
And what others should prioritize with their lives...
Was a repaying by a giving back,
A service with a knowledge and a deed...
To someone else that is pleased to receive.
And that a good life lived...
Was not in the feeding of one's greed.
'Remember...
There should be several baskets,
In which to place your accomplishments.
And acquired tasks you have mastered to pass.'
No need to be a polished scholar,
To give service...
With a knowledge.
And a deed.
No need to be a polished scholar,
To give service...
With a knowledge.
And a deed.
No need to be a polished scholar,
To give service...
With a knowledge.
And a deed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Book Of Life
Is my name written there on those pages bright and fair
Is my name written in the book of life
If you want to be up there then down here you must prepare
And your name must be in the book of life
Get down on your knees and pray you from sin must turn away
Or your name won't be in the book of life
If you'll turn to Jesus now at his feet just humbly bow
Then your name will be in the book of life
Don't you know that Christ was sent that from sin you could repent
So your name could be in the book of life
You will have a great surprise if you fell to recognize
That your name must be in the book of life
Get down on your knees and pray you from sin must turn away
Or your name won't be in the book of life
Don't delay and don't forget that from sin you could repent
Then your name will be in the book of life
Is my name written in the book of life
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I lived for four years in the 1930s with these individuals and the only time that I wasn't thinking about dealing with physical suffering is when I was working on this book. I've never been more alive as when I worked on this book.
quote by Laura Hillenbrand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A scholar is like a book written in a dead language. It is not every one that can read in it.
quote by William Hazlitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Early Retirement
There's an ad on TV about retiring.
I'm not worried about retiring.
I'm retiring from life early.
It means I'm not... traditionally
going to live long enough to retire.
Just like all the old boiler makers in trade.
Who worked all those years, welding
inside pipes, and other enclosed spaces, places.
Sucking in all those harmful toxic fumes.
None of them lived long enough to retire.
Just like my father the carpenter.
An era when honest men daily worked up a blinder.
Just like my father hardest working carpenter.
Who worked all those long years, man-handling
heavy loads. Concreting, steel, heavy beams.
Straining the heart, arteries, neck, back, hands.
Working up a triple hernia. Before being killed
off, from lead based paint, and asbestos residue.
It is only management! And white collar workers!
Who have to worry, about saving, for retirement.
Worrying about, all that extra weight, accumulating.
On their lard asses, from all that gourmet cuisine.
While a real worker, will think he's done himself
proud, on pizza, fish and chips, and a few beers.
Just the ticket. Just the ticket. For a really good time.
Just about the only ticket, a real worker can afford.
To purchase, on his dismal daily pay, while paying rent.
Workers are dying. Instead of worrying about retiring.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Live ha haaa...
Books making
Some time
Boor of life...
Life is not a book...
Some books
Helps life...
Some books
Boored life...
Life is boor...?
Relax too read
Joke books...
live ha ah ahhhaaa....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Books
Books take me to a place like no other
When I'm reading no one else madders
All my problems go away and it's just my books and me.
Books I like that word but when I read
My mom and dad and all my brothers and sisters go away
And I'm left there with no one but a book.
And then I pick it up and the word isn't so empty any more
It's full again. Like when you're a kid and your mom or dad
Come home after a long trip without you and you missed them
And then you're crying, laughing and happy all at the same time.
That how I get with a book I just found.
Happy because it's by my favorite Author but yet sad because
The book ended with questions still in my head.
And laughing because it was funny at one point in the book.
I love that felling when I pick up a book.
How do you fell when you pick up a book?
Happy, sad, a funny felling? You tell me please come on now don't be shy.
poem by Alley Rodriguez
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The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.
Confucius in The Confucian Analects
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The humblest painter is a true scholar; and the best of scholars the scholar of nature.
quote by William Hazlitt
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The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.
On Books
Books are my first love, I’m so proud to read;
They give me knowledge and help life to lead;
Hours, days just pass by, by reading life-time;
Life would not be worth, if not for my rhyme.
Great are those people who write books all life;
Burning just candles, with Goose-quills in strife;
Tired of writing though day-long or night,
They keep on writing in such a bad light.
Books serve a great cause; their value can’t cease;
It takes years to write but reading is ease;
Book-makers struggle to print a few books;
And keep spending time to, improve their looks.
Some find their way to libraries in town;
Some remain untouched and nev’r taken down;
Silver-fish, Moths eat the books that are old;
Some are gone obsolete, some sold like gold.
Some are in tatters and must be rebound;
Books are Man’s best friends where solace is found;
Reading for long hours, does help you to learn;
Books give much knowledge and wisdom to men.
Read books with great care whose weight is in gold;
Serve generations though they may be old;
Source of much Info, deserving respect;
Books are life-partners whom you ne’er reject!
poem by John Celes
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Nobody Spoke (for Karen)
Nobody spoke to Lucy,
nobody spoke at all,
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
nobody spoke
for five long years
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy withdrew
without a clue
why nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years,
nobody spoke
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke!
Lucy went mad
she went crazy!
She screamed
she cried, she sobbed,
but nobody spoke,
for five long years
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Many years later
she saw them,
those people she wanted
to be her friends.
but ain't no joke
nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years.
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy left a note
in daddy's drawer,
put on her very best dress.
Did her hair in a very fine way
and walked into the hall as a guest.
She walked up to the folk
that never spoke,
said hello in an ordinary way,
then she pulled out a gun
and opened fire.
Yes she shot all those folk
on that day.
Now they were silent
now they were still,
cos ain't no joke
that nobody spoke
and now
they never will.
poem by Ruth Walters
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A scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.