Transformation
I made a story that snatched away the transformation,
Its transmission fully solved that there was a light;
The flashlight of an age is like blood and guts,
Never does a story work more than boredom.
The conversation abruptly ceased due to old age,
This dialogue within was dice, so greater than age itself;
Looking this way the dice seemed to transform
Into a number of luck, the fortune was eventful.
This is a story of transformation and metamorphosis,
The actual store of knowledge is in the results of change.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Hard Luck Story
Dont ask me to love my neighbour
Cause I dont love the man
Dont ask me for my favours
I wont lend a hand
And if I had real power
Then I could disappear
Wouldnt have to be around you
Id sink into the atmosphere
Then I wouldnt hear
Your hard luck story
Its a hard luck, a hard luck story
Dont ask me to tip the waiter
For he is underhand
I can tell he is a woman hater
And he is a nasty man
Within reach lies all desire
For each and every soul
Stripped bare and stretching higher
You fall into the last balck hole
To end your hard
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Dont ask me to pray to jesus
Ive never met the man
I only meet weekend preachers
Pictures of the promised land
All the new holy saviours
Who pretend to understand
Who do you think will save you
Modern day beggar man
Such a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its such a hard
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Dont ask me to love my neighbour
Dont ask me to tip the waiter
Dont ask me to pray to jesus
He picked his time to leave us
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck story
Hard luck story
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memory Of The Unknown Poet, Robert Boardman Vaughn
But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
T. S. ELIOT
It was his story. It would always be his story.
It followed him; it overtook him finally—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
Probably at the end he was not yet sorry,
Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley.
It was his story. It would always be his story,
Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury,
But signifying, O signifying magnificently
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
I picture the snow as falling without hurry
To cover the cobbles and the toppled ashcans completely.
It was his story. It would always be his story.
Lately he had wandered between St. Mark’s Place and the Bowery,
Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly.
O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
All done now. But I remember the fiery
Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry.
It was his story and would always be his story—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
poem by Donald Justice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tell Me A Story
Tell me a story that isn't gory
tell me a story that isn't fake
tell me a story where you made a mistake
tell me a story where the cows come home
tell me a story I want to know
tell me a story where the princess finds herself
not a prince who is more like an elf.
Tell me a story that I can laugh out loud
tell me a story where storm makes lighting clouds.
For in the end we only have our stories to tell
what make them funny, give them hell.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tell Me A Story
Tell me a story that isn't gory
tell me a story that isn't fake
tell me a story where you made a mistake
tell me a story where the cows come home
tell me a story I want to know
tell me a story where the princess finds herself
not a prince who is more like an elf.
Tell me a story that I can laugh out loud
tell me a story where storm makes lighting clouds.
For in the end we only have our stories to tell
what make them funny, give them hell.
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I never told a victim story about my imprisonment. Instead, I told a transformation story - about how prison changed my outlook, about how I saw that communication, truth, and trust are at the heart of power.
quote by Fernando Flores
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Them I'm Crazy
I’m a crazy woman. To them I’m crazy. Obsessed with my anger. They think it chokes me in my sleep, it oozes as I walk, leaving a trail of disgust in my path. But this anger is who I am. What I must be. It cannot be left in a corner, forgotten, like letters of the past covered in dust. This is my story and I will not forget. The hurt and the pain. The struggle and shame. Because if I forget no one will remember. No one will know or be there to tell this story. Anger. It isn’t a story of anger. But it’s a story of transformation. Of holding my anger, like a cherished organ, understanding that without this anger, I would not be this soon-to-no-longer-be lost girl. With anger oozing in her path. With change in her horizon. I would be the masses that for too long have been too helpless to leave. They lost they’re anger. Lowered their heads when they were told they shouldn’t want more. They should be happy with what they have. But I will not forget. I will always know. And that is what drives me.
poem by Lupita Hernan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its The Same Old Story
M. field / n. oliphant
The same old story
Its as old as the stars above
The same old story
Of a boy and a girl in love
The scenes say more moonlight
The times say more june light
Romances the thing
Two hearts away deep in a dream
The same old story
Its been told much too much before
The same old story
But its worth telling just once more
Its all fun and laughter
They lived ever after in ecstacy
The same old story but its new to me
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Way Out
No intentions
Whatsoever
I was gone for a night
Nothings forever
The cruel daylight
Brought me back to my senses (back to my senses)
Got caught in here
Under false pretenses
No way out
None whatever
I made up the story
Thought it was clever
She didnt ask
And I got no reply (got no reply)
But later that night
I heard her cry
Chorus:
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No accusations
Whatsoever
But can she forget
Nothings forever
Since yesterday
Shes a little bit colder (little bit colder)
Wont happen again
What could Ive told her
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
Doesnt buy my story
How can she tell the truth from the lies
When does she know when to close her eyes
She doesnt want to lose me
So she only sees what she wants to see
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out, no way
No way out...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bookworm
There's a story that like a dessert I love
And I enjoy every page slowly as much as I can
There's story that makes me desperate
And even my day becomes gloomy after I read
There's story that safe to be read anytime
And I don't mind if it's going up or down
There's story that could burn me to the core
And left me with desire to create another story
There's story that easily predict
And I could finish it without much thinking
There's story that has a very good cliffhanger
And I need to rush to the publisher to make it comes fast
There's story that goes like my dream
And I want to repeat over and over until I'm getting bored
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fast Forward
one thing then another
one story then another conversation
always interrupted by another conversation
I want the words to barely glaze the page
gone the moment of their utterance
as we are
I want
in back of this a story a man with his face with his name
exile emigrant refugee displaced person outsider offcomerdon stranger suspect
the terms interchangeable politically undesireable
a story of a man who leaves his country
and the woman he loves
and the story of why
and her story
they never meet again
that’s it that’s all of it
far away she hears in the night street
footsteps footsteps stop
when she stops go on when she goes on
from the dark in back of her she hears
I can see you I can see you
Sammy Sammy Sammy Sammy I can see you
far away she must go on
far away he must go on
Put Off!
Put off!
Concerning your conduct;
But, work with your hands in proper things and live.
Put off!
Putting away lying;
And, learn to speak the truth to your neighbour.
Put off!
A big change! !
Like snow and heavy rain;
Of your story,
Of her story,
Of his story,
Of my story,
But, work with your hands in proper things and live.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Way Out
No intentions
Whatsoever
I was gone for a night
Nothings forever
The cruel daylight
Brought me back to my senses
(back to my senses)
Got caught in here
Under false pretenses
No way out
None whatever
I made up the story
Thought it was clever
She didnt ask
And I got no reply
(got no reply)
But later that night
I heard her cry
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No accusations
None, whatever
But can she forget
Nothings forever
Since yesterday
Shes a little bit colder
(little bit colder)
Wont happen again
What could Ive told her
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
Doesnt buy my story
How can she tell the truth from the lies
How does she know when to close her eyes
She doesnt want to lose me
So she only sees what she wants to see
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
She doesnt buy my story
No way out
No way out
No way out
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death In My Hands
Hellow, i took a pen to write a story,
the story that seemed scary,
but liked by those bully,
Now they want another story,
The story that gave them money,
money that brought them honey,
the honey that made them hurray,
Now am a wanted as i refused,
the story came from my brain,
which accereleted to my hand,
decorated with my pen,
through my fascinating fingers,
poem by Dickson Mseti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Face Tells A Story
Look at the man in the corner, hes sitting all alone
His blankets are made out of cardboard,
His pillows are made out of stone
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
See the man walking on the water, see the light in his eyes
He came into the world with a message to tell,
He came into the world to die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Youre always telling stories, youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories, why?
So think of yourself in the water, seeing your days flashing by
Its too late to see what you wanted to be,
Youve spent all your time, you must die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Step down
And make it work out right
Im trying to get to you with my warning
Been there
For nearly half the night
Look its nearly four in the morning
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How The West Was Won And Where It Got Us
Blood from a stone, water from wine.
Born under earplay design.
A stroke of bad luck, wrong place, wrong time.
Let's fly up out of the lime.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us.
Canary got trapped, the uranium mine.
A stroke of bad luck, now the bird has died.
A marker to mark where my tears run dry.
I cross it, bless it, alkali.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us.
I didn't wear glasses cause I thought it might rain.
Now I can't see anything.
I made a mistake, chalked it up to design.
I cracked through time, space, Godless and dry.
I point my nose to the northern star,
Watch her decline from a hazy distance.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How The West Was Won & Where It Got Us
Blood from a stone
Water from wine.
Born under earplay design.
A stroke of bad luck,
Wrong place, wrong time.
Lets fly up out of the lime.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us.
Canary got trapped, the uranium mine.
A stroke of bad luck, now the bird has died.
A marker to mark where my tears run dry.
I cross it, bless it, alkali.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us.
I didnt wear glasses cause I thought it might rain.
Now I cant see anything.
I made a mistake, chalked it up to design.
I cracked through time, space, godless and dry.
I point my nose to the northern star,
Watch the decline from a hazy distance.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No one has really heard my side of the story, the adventure we had together, the transformation that I had going from a schoolgirl to a woman overnight.
quote by Priscilla Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Story
I love story.
Truly I do.
And always will.
Of the best of them
I shall not ever
Get my fill.
They are never read, told, shared or sung
In vain,
They create, live and give
An allegorical ardor to life and being
That in no other form
Can anyone find or explain.
Yet,
the fact remains,
for each persons story
'tis the same:
Wherever great fictional stories
Are shown or told,
New or old,
There is a moment of climax, fantasy,
Where the main character overcomes confrontation.
And from that moment on everything is good, o.k.,
Pure and perfect transformation.......
Real life is story too,
One big Story
Filled with every human's sub-story,
All just as real, and true.
With the full ability to be every bit as great,
Word for word,
As any fiction
Ever told and heard.
With one powerful and true exception:
In the story of our human reality
The conflict may lesson,
But never, here and now, does it ever cease.
In this life, no matter what else,
There just will not be
Perfect, never-ending beauty and peace.
It's a fantastic fable
That from a moment forward
Life can be happily ever after;
No such thing has God here promised.
Only upon Christ's return
Shall tears and pain completely give way
To joy, dancing, and laughter.
Death to evil's horrid beast,
Finally and fully finished
At the great and glorious wedding feast!
But, tis not yet so;
Tis futile to think
For anyone life is unfragile,
We are all so soon wind-swept,
Our time, place and position on earth
Is never ours to be savored and kept...
So the story goes on and on
To it's final chapter,
Where the great author alone
Writes in the wonderous finish:
'The Eternal Happily Ever After'.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Transformation Comes
Transformation comes,
To push forward...
From what has been done.
Sometimes paining with a laborious birth,
Endured.
Insuring something new...
That is introduced as glorious,
And pure.
Transformation comes.
And people do adapt to embrace this change.
Very few can block or stop it.
Or insist what had been 'before' accepted,
Remains the same.
But with each season that begins a fresh start,
To end for another.
We here who witness it...
May express our opinions and have our druthers,
Fixed and stubborn.
When transformation comes...
Everyone is powerless to resist,
Its completeness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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