Related quotes: writing has a purpose. Words...

I Once Write To Follow An Idea

writing has a purpose. Words can preach.
Or they are like a wind vane, giving you the
north, and south and east and west.
You ask: why am i heading west? What is
in the snow as thick as my agnosticism?
and you follow, and ask what is it that i
really mean about the sound of a frog
croaking? I put some leaves, and twigs
and pretend that i am composing a tree.
I like the sound of a hush, the wind and the
silence of the mists, the insistence of frost.
Too early, yes too early to conclude that
words must, and must have no other purpose
but to convey and idea. About myself. Looking
for Myself. I am an idea.

Sooner i am told, by this star and this moon,
there is no idea, and there is no purpose either.
Just seasons. Cold and warm. Humid and Dry.
Desert and snow. Wet and Arid. Acidic sometimes.
Smooth. Rough. No reason at all, why prey? What
caused the depredation of feelings? Outbursts and
explosions. Cry. Shout. Bohemian rhapsody.

Yes, this is nothing but colors. Feelings I mean.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

4. Blow me down

The North wind blew on Monday
As the East wind got the flu
The West wind blew on Tuesday
As the South wind never knew

The North East wind had Wednesday
As the South West wasn’t chuffed
The North West blew on Thursday
As the South East hardly puffed

The East and West blew Friday
As the others had a rest
The North and South blew Saturday
As the weekends were the best

The lot of them had Sunday
As the winds turned into storm
The whole of them had Monday off
As the week got back to norm

poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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East Of The Sun

Half of a letter
Tells half a story
The way I see it
It's half the worry
Where I came from
I forgot too soon...
East of the sun
And west of the moon
Money talks
And hey, I'm listening
I've lived without it
Enough to miss it
Where I'm going
I'll get there soon
East of the sun
And west of the moon
Another day leaves me aching
I try to wake up
But something's breaking
Here inside me
Deep and hollow
A sound that no other sound could follow
I know the pain
Before the wound
East of the sun
And west of the moon

song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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East Of The Sun, West Of The Moon

(pal waaktaar)
Half of a letter
Tells half a story
The way I see it
Its half the worry
Where I came from
I forgot too soon...
East of the sun
And west of the moon
Money talks
And hey, Im listening
Ive lived without it
Enough to miss it
Where Im going
Ill get there soon
East of the sun
And west of the moon
Another day leaves me aching
I try to wake up
But somethings breaking
Here inside me
Deep and hollow
A sound that no other sound could follow
I know the pain
Before the wound
East of the sun
And west of the moon

song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wind Of Prediction

As the trees play in the breeze
Do you wonder what it may mean.
Does the wind coming from a certain direction
Mean something we should heed.

North wind blows cold and dry
Originating from the elements of earth
Read as the wind of death, colour black
Time to abondon issues no longer needed
Heed the news from the North.

West wind blows moist and fertile
Elements of water, coloured blue
Soothing, sensitive and healing.
Touch the cleansing power of the West.

South wind blows hot and dry
Of element fire, colour red
Usethe initiative and passion
To boost the ideals
Haste to feel the southern breeze.

East wind blows from the orient light
Assaulting with cold dry feel
Symbol of air, coloured white
Trust new starts from the East.

North South East and West
Thus the world changes
From whence it blows
That is what it will show
Predictions blown around.

poem by Alison Smith
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The Wind

He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.

The pine trees toss him their cones with glee,
The flowers bend low in courtesy,
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls,
The flag in front of the school unfurls.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.

poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind

He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.

poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Write Because Of A Certain Purpose

writing with a purpose.
like everything and everyone
always with a purpose...

beauty, and hope and sadness
and death and redemption...

all these have built-in purposes
but whatever that is

the things-in-themselves
without mouths speak for what they mean

outstretched tendrils looking for the ray of the sun
blooming petals wanting for someone to adore

pathways seeking themselves on a certain destinations
seas covering the earth giving way to the existence of maps

and so i write, i keep the purpose within my letters
my words that you read

this poem that shows arms opening
to embrace you and also to keep my cold heart warm.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The principal or highest part of the mountain having changed its direction to east and west, I ascended it in such manner as to leave its most elevated ranges to the south and travelled north west over a very rough and broken country generally covered with snow.

quote by William Henry Ashley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here I Love You

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am' tree series # 2

i am tall
i am straight
i am ' TREE
as i see my leaves falling to the ground
surrounding my trunk like a skirt.
my branches stretch to all four corners
north, south, east, west
and as they fall, i know then
that i am dying.

i stretch my head to the father sun
and scream for his strength.
and down to mother earth
to quench my thirst.

for hundreds of years, i have lived
and flourished with a beauty that
all mankind admires.
i then realized that it was' autumn.'

i am replenishing my life,
to enter a new one.
as my branches, which touch each point
north, south, east, west
so are the four seasons.

'i am ' tree
i live, i die, i revive.
my beauty like love is eternal
in the eyes of the beholder.

'I AM' TREE.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Idea

An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.

poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just For A Day

You have no idea what it’s like
To be the oldest
No idea what it’s like
To be exiled
You have no idea what it’s like
To be unnoticed
No idea what it’s like
To be me
So I suggest you put on my mask
For a while
Just for a year, for a month
For a day
So you can see
What it’s like
To be me
You can finally feel
My positions
Feel your weakness
In times like mine
How your feelings compress
All together
When you don’t say anything,
But hang your head

poem by Mye3
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunrise, Sunset

O Sun, When you rise,
It’s morning dawn.
When you set,
It’s evening dusk.

O Sun, Seeing your beauty lighting
Shining on landscape from dawn
Shining on seascape from dusk
It comes from dawn to dusk.

O Sun, rise from East
O Sun, set to West
From East to West,
Celestial light comes and go,
Seasons come and go.

Here come four seasons
North to South, East to West
From Spring comes Autumn,
From Summer comes Winter.

O Sun, From rising East
To setting West
O Moon, Come rising East
To setting West

Cycle never end,
It’s endless cycle,
Seeing sunset every dusk,
Seeing sunrise every dawn.

Making us pondering..
Make us wondering
Where, When will be next..
Sunrise, sunset..

poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Ah Me! Ah Me!

Ah, me! Ah, me! My weary doom to labour here in the Palace!
Seven good wine-jars have I - and three in my province.
There where they stand I have hung straight-stemmed gourds of the finest -
They turn to the West when the East wind blows,
They turn to the East when the West wind blows,
They turn to the North when the South wind blows,
They turn to the South when the North wind blows.
And there I sit watching them turning and turning forever-
Oh, my gourds! Oh, my wine-jars!

poem by Sugawara Takesue no Musume
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lost Idea

Last night I had a dream that I was a lost idea
being carried in the thoughts of a bird.
We soared above the snow capped mountains
to where a sound has never been heard.

Soaring ever higher we had left the day,
but below us we could still see the light.
I wondered what I was doing here as an idea,
and what was the purpose of this bird’s flight.

As we struggled in the turbulent high winds
the bird’s thoughts couldn’t hold on to me.
I was captured by the streams of chaotic gusts,
forever held by the winds of eternity.

To countless galaxies we journeyed,
back and forth to the past and beyond.
The tiring wind became a lazy breeze,
which released me from its bond.

A whispering free spirit took hold of me
who knew well its place in time and space.
In its thoughts it carried me for several life times,
then it took me to my conception place.

The roaming free spirit helped me to catch a ride,
on someone’s knowledgeable thought train,
but alas I was to antiquated to be of any use,
so here in the air I remain.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Four Places Of Sorrow

There is sorrow for me in the North, where the black wind blows,
(Hush, O Wind of the dirges, O Voice of the restless dead!)
The ache of its cruel keening thro' my heart like an arrow goes,
I see in the tossing waters the sheen of a dear bright head.

There is sorrow for me in the South, where the white wind sings,
(Hush, O Wind of all lovers, crooning a laugh and a cry!)
On the pain of a dream love-haunted breaks the music of wings,
Seagulls, sweeping and swaying, saw ye my dead drift by?

There is sorrow for me in the East, where the red wind burns,
(Hush, O Wind of remorse, O Wind of the scourging flame!)
Under its slow cold dawning the soul of the drowned returns
And wan, in the startled daybreak, a ghost from the sea he came.

There is sorrow for me in the West, where the brown wind raves,
(Hush, O Wind from the bogs, O memory-freighted Wind!)
He is spindrift hither and thither, sport of unweary waves:
Would that my heart were close on his heart, my eyes on his eyes were blind!

poem by Anna Johnston MacManus
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Rosario

Early in the morning as the moon was in the sky,
Early in the morning I kissed my girl goodbye,
For kissing-time is over and it's time and time to go
When you've a long road to travel to Rosario!

Oh wake her &mdash oh shake her! - and the Peter's flying free,
And the pilot's come aboard her, and she's hungry for the sea.
Kissing time is over; And it's time and time to go
And 'a long road to travel to Rosario!'

Summer'll soon be over, the leaves'll fade and die,
And white on every furrow the winter snows'll lie,
But we're bound for the long furrows where never lies the snow,
And we've a long road to travel to Rosario!

Oh wake her - oh shake her! - and the cable surges in
To the roar of a shanty chorus as we make the handspikes spin . . .
Oh she's bound for the long furrows where never lies the snow -
And 'a long road to travel to Rosario!'

And now she smells the deep sea, and now she's gathering way,
And now she meets the rollers in a white smother of spray -
Sou'west an' a half west, and steady as we go . . .
And 'a long road to travel to Rosario!'

Oh, wake her - oh, shake her! - and it's good-bye to the shore,
With the north wind in her topsails, and the whole wide world before . . .
Sou'west an' a half west, and steady as you go -
And a long road to travel to Rosario!'

poem by Cicely Fox Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Go To Zero

Hey, hey on your marks, get set go to zero
Present and correct go to zero
North, south, east and west go to zero
Nothing is best go to zero
I do this and I do that, and when its cold, I wear a hat,
Its mostly cold
It pays to advertise thay say, Ill keep my hat on anyway
Or so Im told
When youre on patrol go to zero
By remote control go to zero
Forward, pause, return go to zero
All roads lead astern go to zero
(chorus)
When you miss your cue go to zero
Start the dance, anew go to zero
Black, red, white and blue go to zero
When you lose the one go to zero
Rewind can be fun go to zero
Nudge it left and right go to zero
Dont wait til tonight go to zero
Go to zero!
(chorus)
(go to zero)
Everywhere you go go to zero
Nough is apropos go to zero
North, south, east and west go to zero
Nothing is best go to zero

song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Winters Day

Winter,

the cold freezes my thoughts,

freezes my feelings

the wind bites at my face

the snow falls almost as if its in slow motion,

as if im in slow motion

time seems none exsistant

color fades to white

sound becomes silence

the light casts over the snow which glistens like diamonds

color is covered with white