For You My Friend The Great Lover Of Truth
when the doctor comes out from his room and tells you
that you have cancer
and at stage IV
would you rather think that this must be a lie?
or when you find out that your wife is having an affair
with another man
and decides to leave you
alone
would you rather say that you prefer a lie?
or when your younger brother sailing on the seas
is kidnapped by professional pirates in Somalia
asking for a big amount for ransom
and you have no money to use to help him
would you still prefer this truth?
or when your father is hostaged by the rebels
and will be the next to be beheaded
and the government still does nothing
would you rather think that this is but a big joke
and not the truth?
think my friend, you were looking for the real toads
in that imaginary garden
these are these toads croaking now
in the middle of the heavy rain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Real And Unreal...
in the imaginary garden
the real toads are croaking
in that imaginary room
a real person is
thinking
in that imaginary thought
some real things
are broken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Must Accept As I Tell You
you must accept as i tell you
that your absence for days
did not made my heart grow fonder
inside my imaginary garden
all the real toads are croaking.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Metaphoric Garden...
all the while, literalism
is wished. Why bother with some
allusions? One can be direct
to the point and be
understood point-blank,
no holds bar, black is black
and white is white,
a spade is a spade is a spade,
the cause is that which the cause
is caused,
bluntly, candidly,
what the heck is this
going around the bush
and figuring out
what is hidden through
symbols and
concealed through some
metaphors....
but my dear, this
is the realm of what we want you to know
and on the other hand
we also want you not to know
so well....
and that is, precisely
this thrill, remember those imaginary
toads in the
real garden?
or those real toads in the
imaginary garden,
feel them, they are all here,
hear them, but my god, by god,
you cannot see them
here... not yet....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Money Is Quite Important
Not much about most things I can claim to know
But I'm certain that money on trees does not grow
And though in the Human World money is the most important thing
Of love lost and found singers prefer to sing
Money is quite important why otherwise pretend
The pauper you will find does not have a friend
Those with plenty money can live the good life
The wealthy old bloke has a lovely young wife
He feels that she loves him but he has got it wrong
Her love for his money than for him far more strong
Money speaks every language a truth often told
And those who have plenty of it are never too old
To have someone far younger to with them walk hand in hand
In the street or the park or on the sunlit strand.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My imaginary friend
My imaginary friend
Has got brown eyes
And brown hair
My imaginary friend
Is as cuddly
As polo bear
My imaginary friend
Is playful and kind
My imaginary friend
Has got a big mind
My imaginary friend
Is complete with care
My imaginary friend
Knows how to share
My imaginary friend
Is my sweetheart
My imaginary friend
Likes so much art
My imaginary friend
Is really fun
The truth is
I don’t have imaginary friend
All of this is my mum
M.Reka 2006
poem by Marinela Reka
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Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.
quote by Marianne Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Much Time Has Been Wasted
to be honest with you
so much of my time has been taken by this
foolishness
so much effort
squeezing my brain and stretching my bones
and pinching my ears
and biting my fingernails
this poetry
but what can i do?
i am hooked to its whims and caprices
it imagery and
logical imagination
got no regrets somehow
i still love this 'imaginary garden with real toads in them'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Possibilities
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Daydreamer
I'm a daydreamer
I dream away
Another dream
Another day
I can't quite cope with the real world
I would prefer
To take a nap
And slip into
Another world
Another view
I can't quite cope with the real world
I would prefer
What is the use in being
Unhappy with the truth
When you can just go to sleep
And revert back to your youth
Happy times
Happy days
Get rid of wrinkles
Get rid of greys
Can't quite cope with the real world
I would prefer
To dream
To daydream
To dream away
poem by Lucy Vernezze
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Pondering Pirates
PONDERING PIRATES
Edward Iacona
There has remained a fascination
That has lasted through the years,
Of pirates, ships and the treasures
Of those adventurous buccaneers.
It is very obvious in these times
That pirates are still quite popular
In films and books and games and such
But not the real ones in Somalia.
We also pay them homage
With 'Talk Like a Pirate Day'
So salt yer speech me hearties
And add 'Arrgh' to what you say.
There are pirate costumes for Halloween
Some will buy them and some will make them.
But a real pirate would not ask for treats
He'd just threaten you and take them.
There are the Pittsburgh Pirates
And to further what my case is.
What could those pirates possibly steal
Except for a couple of bases.
There are Neuveau Pirates of today
That have no need to prowl the seas.
They can be found in the local laundromat
Selling inexpensive DVD's
Still some laud the life of pirates,
They will act so and admire it
What always puzzles me is that,
Why do they desire it?
Back in the day a real pirate
Had not much which to aspire;
Rare promotions, no paid benefits
And no security on which to retire.
For all the riches that they stole
Which was a considerable pile
What good did it really do them?
I don't think it changed their life style.
Yet thoughts of pirates still surround us
Be they fiction, real or on a line of scrimmage.
But, no matter how one thinks of them,
It took Disney to change their image.
poem by Edward Iacona
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A Few Advices To A Nephew Studying The Science Of Psychology
you say you want noise
so much noise in fact
in the middle of the night
to bury the boredom reigning in yourself.
i wonder if you have consulted the gods and goddesses of poertry.
if you have gone at the entrance of its temples.
one does not need noise to expunge boredom.
one needs only silence.
you tell me i am different. Sort of telling me you are different
and you belong to the wonders of your youth.
i am telling you, you are wrong my dear nephew.
you have taken so much noise, and you are lost.
you have disregarded the voice of your heart
and the furies will take the revenge.
the noise will take you like the Pied Piper of Hamelin
to the sea with all the rats and there
they will drown with you.
Take your time. Have fun with so much noise.
When this fails, and i know it will, please come back
and drink the lovely potion of silence.
This is the beginning
of poetry.
Some things are so real, in this poetic imagination.
As she once puts it: an imaginary garden with real toads in them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Even if they have pictures
No matter what they tell you
No matter how they beg
Do not – I repeat – Do Not
tell people the truth
People do not really
want to know the truth
Lie - make up shit if you have to
But do not ever tell them the truth
They prefer their fantasies
They prefer their make-believe
safety net webbed about them
suffocating tightly
like the larder of a spider
If you tell people the truth
they’ll just crucify you
hang you from some tree
and then
make shit up about you
©2007 All rights reserved
poem by Khristian E. Kay
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Killing and Robbing
Killing and robbing in the name of power,
Are there no laws in the books that you have been reading? ! !
Then think twice before it is too late,
For the Father in heaven is watching us all.
Is it in heaven or, is it in hell?
With pirates and rebels all over the world!
But the pirates are on the seas and the rebels are in the forests,
And like what we see at the horn of Africa and the forest of Africa.
The hijacking of ships and the killing of people,
But all these will not bring us peace on this earth;
So let us be wise in doing the right thing always,
For this earth is our home and it needs peace than war.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Yes, My Poems Are Imaginary
these poems tell about despair
and who will ever like despair? you grumble
why can't these poems have
happines as its theme
a poem that like a belly dancer must entertain
weary bedouins
oasis to the thirsty camels
cool green palms to travellers whose feet are dusty
and even blistered
grass to some snakes
and trees to black birds
rest for the night
tent and wine and bread and lyre to our passions
but do not worry my friend
these poems are imaginary
like a garden existing only in our minds
we transport some toads and butterflies
and clouds and sun and tonight
let us have the moon and some glasses of strong wine
let us put our bed outside
in this garden where the moon shines
and creates the silver sheen in our happy faces
we love illusions, we can have all the illusions we need
when we are drunk, when we dance when we are finally drunk
when we even want to make love
when we are drunk & when we make love and we do not choose
whom to kiss and caress and touch an unknown body
with our hands and lips and choose
what we remember and what we do not want to remember
now i want to write
about illusory gardens and imagine despair that despair
has no place and must leave right away
let me
do not hinder me write what i want
about what i can disown
but i assure you, whatever that is, these poems
i am talking to you, as a friend, and even be a lover at the end,
even if the rest are imaginary, and fiction and illusory
i am still real amidst this grumble and rubble
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If The Truth Is My Due
I would prefer praise to criticism any day
But for as long as people their truth to me do say
And with lies not defame me in any way
I will 'cop it sweet' with me 'twill be okay
Yet some people even whilst speaking the truth
By their words alone do seem lacking in ruth
Even the truth spoken crudely can leave a mental sting
The great power of words can be a hurtful thing
Yet the truth is the truth and can never defame
It is with your own actions that you sully your name
Due to jealousy or a sense of revenge some with their words are cruel
And with their words to character ruin light the fuel
I will accept the truth if the truth is my due
For as long as you say of me of me what's true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When I have a difficult subject before me — when I find the road narrow, and can see no other way of teaching a well established truth except by pleasing one intelligent man and displeasing ten thousand fools — I prefer to address myself to the one man, and to take no notice whatever of the condemnation of the multitude; I prefer to extricate that intelligent man from his embarrassment and show him the cause of his perplexity, so that he may attain perfection and be at peace.
quote by Maimonides
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Sailor
I am not a man
Nor am I just a boy
I am the sailor
Sailing a different voyage.
I am sailing to the sun
Over the ocean deep and blue
Don't know where I am heading
Wont know when I am through.
I am sailing to the shore
To the places I have been before
Hoping just to hear
People cheer instead of fear.
I am not the truth
Nor am I just a lie
For i am the sailor
With the tears for you to cry.
I am sailing across the seas
To where I do not know
Till someone needs my needs
Calling through the snow.
I am steering the great boat
Navigating through the waves
Hoping that the truth will float
Instead of tears for me to know.
I am the only captain
Steering towards the rocks
With the waves across my brain
Pelting down like rain.
I will sail the seas forever
Till someone needs my help
Till then I pray for a lover
With needs to be felt.
I am not dead
Nor will I feel alive
Till I hear the world and you say
Never again will you cry.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Truth or Truths? for M' lady Amber
What is the truth? No man can say
Each sees it in a different way.
My truth may not be true for you
Yours may differ from mine too
Although we say we want to know
I wonder do we really though
I think it is quite evident,
The truth is inconvenient.
If hearts were pure we could be sure.
One simple truth might well endure.
But we prefer half truths and lies.
Perhaps because we realise.
If we embraced truth honestly
It would curtail our liberty.
11-Nov-08
http: // blog.my space.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I don't prefer much of film over stage. The only thing I prefer is the paycheck.
quote by Marisa Tomei
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive.
quote by Robert Louis Stephenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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