Related quotes: The gout of the mind...

The Intermixing

The gout of the mind is to intermix,
Gormandizing and realistically the feathers.
Homer sees in his eye the real food,
And writes as a poet who is blind.
The steady office of many are like the ears
Of the people, and the sight is from the eyes.
On this independent day I came with wending
And weaving angering the world with its woe.
Interrupt me never, never hiccup or wallop me,
For the scallops of your mind are brewing.
This is corrupt of your worship of my soul,
For the gallops render me false.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Blind Sight

I look but don’t see the real world in front of me.
Moments waste away with the details of my day.
Do I have enough? How can I get more stuff?
Can I have another win or fit in one more sin?

When I look I can’t see
What’s important to me.
I worship things and seek pleasure.
I can’t see what I should treasure.

Then a blind man told me, he lost his sight so he could see.
He sees why he conquered grief since his life is all too brief.
He sees that everlasting love is true language from above.
He sees that darkness is for sleeping, not sorrow and weeping.

His spirit senses kindness and thanks to his blindness,
He knows that with vision of heart and mind,
It’s only his eyes that will be blind.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind!

Seeing and hearing,
Is it eye that see?
Is it ear that hear?
Eyes are windows of Mind,
Like are ears, eyes have eyelids, ears remain open!

Seeing is not perceiving,
Light passes through the small camera,
Giving picture of world around,
Yet mind is the processor,
Process the data,
Process the colourful image,
Sometime filling with its own colour!

But it is not vision,
mind sees something itself,
Seeing through the mind without the help of eyes
Neither windows opened,
Nor light from open windows affect!

Mind is that faculty sees something within,
And day by day the vision become clear,
When mind learns it is not the seer,
It sees everything clear,
Clearly presented to the master,
And Self is the master of Mind,
When mind is pure and clear,
Without prejudice and suspense traits,
Self perceives self in its true nature,
Nothing goes bad,
processed food for thought remain good for ever!

one who sees eyes as seer,
He is ignorant,
One who sees mind as a seer,
Knows not,
One whose mind sees the seer is different,
Vision get purified, seer can see through the mind,
Scenes seen by mind with eyes closed,
when perceived by seer,
It becomes vision of life,
And that vision when becomes ambition of life,
Ambition becomes aspiration,
Aspiration transforms into mission,
Mission transmits wisdom and genius of self!

Self becomes master Of mind
Self becomes master Mind,
Master and mind becomes one,
Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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My Alphabet Poem

day is hot
sittng on my swivel chair
trying to chase
wild ideas
to describe what i feel
yet i cannot
fsthom what is within
i stared on the mute keyboard
that seems to look at me
with blind eyes
i saw the W and the I
and i thought of something wild..
wild dreams perhaps?
or weird nights when
angels chased demons
floating on black clouds
my mind set no way so i look at the T
and the H and i thought
of thine shall i wrote about her?
but my memries of her lost charms
seems to fade into morning disaster
so it was no deal
and i looked at the M and the E
and i thought of Me but then
what shall i write about myself
when i do not even know the real me.
and i gaze at the L and of the O
and i said maybe i can write
about love but then my heart is hollow
deep within my emotions
were all bottled up
thrown in deep labyrinth
there is no way i can do it
and then there was the P and i had the C
should i write about peace? but then
there is a great war brewing
between my mind and my heart
it is so hard to make desicions when
your mind refuse the decisions of the heart
and the heart do not folow
what the mind says it got to be
and yes i lokked at the? ? ?
and so will i question God or man?
the answers are not within
the hearts minds and souls of
uncaring man and
God sees the truth but waith until when?
when stars never shines
and flowers never bloom
and yeah i glance at the....
and i thought of the end
of the endless life on crazy
but beautiful world
and i said let me end this weird poem
created by the weird mind
of a weird poet like me
less i bored you till the end....
......
....
...
i am done with my alphabet poem

poem by Villiamor Calventas
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All Depends on Mind!

A small dust in one's eye can
hide whole world,
Every impression depends on
how clear one's eyes are,
And how clear the line of vission
is, Because even a small leaf near eye can hide even the distant
Sun! A feeble voice nearest to ears can
hide a distant loud voice! Life is the record of impressions
and expressions,
More than that is,
Way of communication and
confrontations with
connotations, Encounters of truth and false!
Blinding our eyes with our own
dust,
Or by covering eyes with our
own colour,
eyes are helpless, as helpless as any useful device, misused!
Senses are independent of one
another,
Yet they are confederate,
Mind is the the governor,
Soul is the king!
May these senses obey or conspire,
Impressions on the mind,
Expressions of mind,
Misunderstanding is far dangerous than not understanding,
Reports of Governor are decisive,
lead or mislead the King,
But the raise and fall,
Depends on how able the king is!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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This Poet Is Always Beside You

You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Ears - My Eyes

My ears are my eyes because I am blind.
When I cross the street I listen for the sound of cars braking.
My ears are my eyes.
When I enter a room I tap my cane onto the floor and listen for the distance the echo travel to know how far I am away from someone else. My ears are my eyes.
I may never physical see the beauty of a spring day, but when I hear the birds are chirping, bikes constantly peddling by and lovers saying I love you. I know it is a beautiful spring day. I may be blind but I still see my ears are my eyes.

Note: No I am not blind myself but I know several people who are and this is me letting the rest of the world how they see through my poetry.

poem by Lore Me34
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The Poem Is The Poet

THE POEM IS THE POET

The poem is the poet
It tells his story even when he does not intend it to-
It bears his signature even when he forges it-

The poem is the poet-
It reflects his mind his soul-
It cannot be written without what he is
Though he denies what he is to himself-

The poem is the poet
And the poet's contradictions-

It is the mask of his self - expression
And his ultimate definition in words-

When he writes he becomes himself
And when he finishes it
He leaves a part of himself in it for as long as it exists.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Intermix

Intermix the polishing of a forgotten summer,
The parson cools me after the furthest colour.
Furtive numerals are held in the mind when furthest,
Novelties of an oaf nurse on nothing.
Numerous designs matter on the shelf,
Gory oaths are honourable and gouging strength.
Let colours intermix and let the parson mix with us,
The length of numbers are called equations for us.
Gormandize the food once you steal,
The parson refuses to renovate your reality.

poem by Naveed Akram
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It Is Your Mind

Whatcha’ gonna’ do
When your mind
Takes you
To places… that you
Don’t want
To go?

After all, it is your mind
You should rule it!
Wouldn’t you think that was so?
What do you do when you look
at your partner, and instead
See a stranger in bed with you?

And why does your mind
Seem to always find
A reason to make you feel blue?
What do you do
When you see your house,
yet your mind no longer… sees a home?

What do you do
When in a room full of people
Your mind reminds you… you’re all alone?
What do you do
When your mind makes you
Read aloud… words which once, you were smitten

You put your hands oe’r your ears
To shut out the fears… and the tears
from the words that your mind’s just written

poem by David Whalen
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0187: 1580 - Ish

Round 1580 - so some scholars write -
the finest poets of England sought accord
on what fine form of verse might most delight,
and render fullest homage to our Lord.

They found iambics, in a five-foot line
tuned best with English speech to native ears:
more simple, steady, musical in mind
than Racine's stately tread of French hexameters.

The thoughts sublime which these our poets teach
-Sidney's sonnets, Shakespeare's poems and plays -
enter our ears in childhood, shape our speech,
and tune our hearts to hear, and speak, God's ways;

in still and silent rapture there to find
the music of that other world: God's mind.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Your Light Farewell

You bid unwilling farewell so light,
Your smiles rushes this golden day;
Memory gallops in, in every sight.

You painted the clouds in whitish bright
as you faded through a silvery ray;
You bid unwilling farewell so light.

Soon winds will whisper in ivory night,
gentle rains will echo your laughter in a way
memory gallops in, in every sight.

Red must the roses be, but they turned white
on that day you choose in our hearts to stay;
You bid unwilling farewell so light.

You dwell here where the dawn takes its flight,
in the morning where sunrise burns to play
and - memory gallops in, in every sight.

The world fancied but then turns right;
The day you painted rainbows and smiled away
you bid unwilling farewell so light;
Then... (memory gallops in, in every sight)

poem by Roland Jr Jamito
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Poets Of Many Types

Indeed they are so many types of poets, and of the poets I would not say anyone is more important then the other.
For the readers each have their desired tastes.
So they're most certainly should beware upon opening the page.
Cause dangers do lurk, some quite perverse.
While others seem to insult either the heart or mind.
The poet didn't write it for you specifically in mind.
But instead just to describe his feelings at the time.
Whether be with his eyes in sight, his nose in smell, his fingers in touch, his ears in sound, and some would say his mind and heart with emotions.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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We the poet

We the poet hit straight
Our words our actions are straight
Our body our mind our soul being straight.
We the poet welcome all animate inanimate
We worship nature we worship humanity
Our attitude our approach being straight.
We are truthful we are peaceloving
We are straight in ideology
We are not here to favour anybody
We are being always in the side of light.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Russell Baker writes columns as a poet writes light verse - with tongue in cheek and a steady hand.

quote by Thomas D'Evelyn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Viewing From a Wiser Angle

Why lead a group of people most corrupt?
Do they deserve a righteous man as boss?
Why sermon audience that can interrupt?
Unheeding to advice good is their loss!

Why waste one’s precious time on deafened ears?
Why waste one’s life reforming ‘criminals’?
Why live as alien, eating food with fears?
Some want the road-side and not urinals!

Why talk to men with tongues smoothened by lies?
Why guide the evil minds to do good deeds?
Why talk of God to foolish atheist guys?
Good fruits appear in plants grown from good seeds!

Sometimes, ’tis good to stay a rung lower!
Corrupt can’t stay for long in much power!

poem by John Celes
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Blood Chalice Injustice Drips

skipping words across water
ripples spread at each touch point
mind merges into felt wonder

therefore it does not matter
if words are read or not
each skip was mind thunder

mind writes what words want
writes soul felt free thought
runs choice fields that anoint

sanctification consecration
pays homage honours all creation
earth entwined population

control investing in rim wars
out of sight out of mind fills
blood chalice injustice drips

beware balance restoration
all empires embracing evil fall
prosperity favours liberation

poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Also Like You To Think For Yourself

child, they beat you?
and leave you? and not mind you at times?

why? do they justify that you must know pain
so you must avoid it at all cost
and know how to defend yourself
when it is inflicted?
do they say that leaving you prepares
you for independence so that you
can live by yourself and not rely
on anybody?
did they not tell you that they do not mind you
so that you will learn not to be conceited
and self-centered
and that as early as your childhood
you will know that this is a wide wild world
that there are evil people
that this world is a constant battle between
the bad and the good?

i understand perfectly daddy
that was what you did to me
and so i am here
strong, independent and
real.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Universes

am i a formation of one wholesome spirit
or many spirits who call themselves eyes,
ears, heart, nose, mind coming together
to build a bridge to the real world
and after this journey of the senses, would
the spirits come together again for another
party in another world, or would ionly
remember part and parcel of myself
scattered all over the universes or
would the one true God care to hold me together?
perhaps he would because he knows what is meant
to be true in one, heart, mind and soul...

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Honourable Poet

Tender, render, end, deer, ten, net, den, rent;
The Honourable Poet is closer to you than ever!
And with the mind to write and to move on,
Because the beautiful flowers around are like the peace of love.
Chamber, amber, charm, arm, am, ham, car, bam, bear, bare, are, ear, crab;
And at a random with the sweet aroma of your muse! !
But be ready for my love in the morning.
Random, ran, and, Dan, an, no, do, on, man, mar, am, ram, dam, Mona, moan, roam;
And like the first one,
But the Honourable Poet is closer to you than ever.
On the right hand,
On the left hand,
On the right leg,
On the left leg,
On the right thigh,
On the left thigh,
And like a cake of bread day and night;
But she stood in front of him naked like a flying insect!
And a male goat came around to respect her muse.
Of the great piece of wisdom and a deep sense of respect for learned people like you,
And like the mind which writes to satisfy the muse of humanity;
But the Honourable Poet is closer to you than ever,
For this world is all about us to help shape things for the better.
Blink, link, pink, sink, mink, wink, chink, dink, jink, gink, think, fink;
At a random with the sweet aroma of your muse,
But this poem is like the fish of the sea.