Mastering The Self, Though Uglier At First, And Clumsier...
sometimes you look for a pattern
you walk at the road leading to some other paths
along the way are the yellow flowers
wild with the rain last night
and giving the best
their bests this morning
when you still have to wash your hands
and clean your shoes
and comb your hair
in such a parting mode
between your
chin
a canal of
indifference
there are so many patterns to see
how does this rays of light come like daggers? are they like knives
or simply flowing waters in a pattern of subsumed invincibility?
distrust of self makes one find patterns
like a ship following the lines of the coast amidst the storms
a line of coconut trees
the shape of the horizon that looks like a margin of a paper
a frame of a painting
those van Gogh clouds and towering trees
scrambled patterns yet pointing to a stress
an accent of
similitude
you look at the end
the result gives nothing but barrenness of your creation
there is no unique touch of the self
and no one is amazed
except perhaps the shock that goes with an overrated imitation
damned
one goes back to the point of origin
the sole of your feet
the tip of your eyelash
ugly at first
but evolving into the uniqueness of your spirit
sprite, blithe
dropping the wings
loosening the grip on the expectations of others
now flying
alone and high
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Patterns
Patterns all around you
Patterns everywhere
Patterns of behavior
Sometimes seem unfair
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Patterns unfamiliar
Patterns lead you through (to)
Patterns of discovery
Tracing out the clues
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Stuck in your mind
In this land where stability is hard to find
You can rearrange the patterns so unkind
Dont bother asking why a pattern never cries
Old patterns never die they just go on and on
Patterns multiplying
Re-direct our view
Endless variations
Make it all seem new
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guess the Title - Patter down Pat
..........................PATTERNS
....... ................which.......stitch
....... .........PATTERNS....PATTERNS
............ ...fit....................................into
...........PATTERNS....................PATTE RNS
.........knit......................... .........................onto
....PATTERNS ..........................................PATTERN S
enrich.................................. ...................................which
. ...PATTERNS...................................... ....PATTERNS
.........knit................ ..................................onto
... ........PATTERNS....................PATTERNS
...............fit............................ ........into
................PATTERNS....P ATTERNS
.......................which...... .stitch
..........................PATTERNS
10 August 1995
robi03_0762_robi03_0000 QXX_MXX
[C] Jonathan Robin written
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Polka Patterns
Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Lets go into the bathroom
I know were in a room where you would not expect much math
Usually youre in here for a shower or a bath
But if you gaze upon the floor, and if youre kinda smart
Youll see the repetition is like geometric art
Wow, haha
Look
Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Hey!
A polkameister like myself never has to be bored
I just grab my ax and play some patterns on my keyboard
Nows the time for earplugs if you care about your health
So stand back, everybody, Im gonna express myself
Look at this, patterns
Ive got blisters on my fingers
Woo, hey, aw, get down
Yeah, help me, somebody, woo
Still there? okay
Next time you find yourself at an exciting polka party
You can make some patterns with your feet and with your body
If you dont know the steps yet, heres the gang with all the answers
Ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the weird al polka dancers
Here they are
Everywhere, we see them there
We stop and stare at patterns
We dont care, we must declare
Weve got a flair for patterns
On our hair, the clothes we wear
Our savoir faire is patterns
All we see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Wallpaper, skyscrapers, funny papers, patterns
Evergreens, nouvelle cuisine, human beings, patterns
Garden rakes, wedding cakes, rattlesnakes, patterns
Golden wheat, little feet, my heartbeat
I gotta stop
Patterns, patterns, patterns, patterns
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patterns
The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawL
Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow Little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.
>From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are Patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.
And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it's fitting that it should,
For in darknesss I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of Patterns
That can scarcely be controlled.
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patterns
The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl
Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me
From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death
There are patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath
Like a rat in a maze
The path before my lies
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies
And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell
And it's fitting that it should
For in darkness I must dwell
Like the color of my skin
Or the day that I grow old
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patterns Of Time
carefully looking at this time
and that other time
how they correlate to connect each time
of the next time
to follow the same pattern of time
with no dime
but a crime
if a time
is wasted on no time
for you will never find a time
on the same time
that was underutilized by the time
you realize it were time
it will never be the same time
but a different time
at that point in time
on each pattern of time
from am to pm it is time
still morning to midnight is time
and any time
of the day is time
as from monday to sunday time
year start to midyear and year end is time
so, time
ticking as you may be aware of time
that everything is well connected to time
and must be done on time
for you will never find the same time
of that very point in time
-
do what you can, on time. for time is never a fact but a situation of the same condition on a different setting, but still its time. therefore, time is longer than rope and shorter than your scope though at times time is beyond our scope of reach and intelligence of the mind on time.
-
**extracted from 'patterns of time'**
from **patterns of life** november 2011 ebook
ntema's unique poetry (nup) .
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Drawing Crazy Patterns
Its like sleeping now
He got married in the rush
Abels only son was gone
He finds hard to adjust
Hes feeling younger now
Younger than he was before
He wishes he had changed his mind
Yeah old mistakes they seem so small
And if he had to be you
Then hed get out and do the things hes always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Some people push by
And everyone is cursing them
But he doesnt raise his hand
He broke his dreams and lost his friends
Hes asking questions now
Got caught in his confusion
He shakes his head and looks at me
Then he shouts out loud
If you had to be me
Would you get out and do the things you always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Its like sleeping now
When youre gazing at the floor
And on this late night
Its getting harder now harder now
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drawing Crazy Patterns
Its like sleeping now
He got married in the rush
Abels only son was gone
He finds hard to adjust
Hes feeling younger now
Younger than he was before
He wishes he had changed his mind
Yeah old mistakes they seem so small
And if he had to be you
Then hed get out and do the things hes always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Some people push by
And everyone is cursing them
But he doesnt raise his hand
He broke his dreams and lost his friends
Hes asking questions now
Got caught in his confusion
He shakes his head and looks at me
Then he shouts out loud
If you had to be me
Would you get out and do the things you always wanted
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Its like sleeping now
When youre gazing at the floor
And on this late night
Its getting harder now harder now
Standing outside
Like a joker on a hill
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
Hes drawing crazy patterns
With his shoes
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alankar (Decor) -1
ALANKAR(DECOR)
(This Alankar series is of poetry-forms
and syllabic and word patterns)
Tribute To trees-1
(syllable pattern-single syllables)
Grow more and more
Trees of need so
To sup our hearts
All time their bliss
poem by Indira Renganathan
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There are no patterns that lasts a lifetime. Some people can't stand the floating boarders. They decide on one life philosophy and live thereafter. But I've decided not to decide. I don't know everything. I don't understand everything. Both my own and others reactions are often a mystery to me. I let it be that way, hoping that maybe, instead, I can learn to understand the pattern of no patterns.
quote by Lena Olin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ugly Paint
crack
in the brush,
slice the line and tamper
the bold corner,
waste of time, comes
no regret of it fingers tips,
swollen thumb
with tailing nails of broken pieces
of color
folded
join together
and faded brightness of
Red and Green,
scattered Indigo pamper
the shape and form,
ugly as the skin touches the smooth
face of beautiful picture
of tomorrow's gone,
the guided stream of lines, blacken by its
careless hands of
touch
Yes!
a lasting way of just
an ugly paint,
pattern on me, cover and let the rain
of adoration of search for
an easily hurt get
of deception of hope; something
smarter than
a little boy and girl stand and push
beyond the paint of gain and grain of
whole
pieces of sweat,
pattern makes every paint seems ugly,
yet! it makes sense in me;
sphere revealing
painting you have been long leads
my home,
of what is today and the future
of my day paint goes on,
as the color
printed with its style and let
every passers-bye
says a sweet
good bye …..
poem by Antonio Liao
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Transcend
The cosmos, including humans, consists of
superimposed waves in various frequencies
forming beats by peaking together in regular
sequence of rhythmic patterns
Human life is a dance governed by patterned
rhythms, directed by the sun's electromagnetic
fields of radiation, which are determined by
the planets' configurations
Everything on earth consists of cosmic energy -
pattern pictures in series, all things in existence
are electromagnetic phenomena formed by
these patterns of waves frequencies
In a universe of effervescence, liquid water forms
ice crystal regions in remembrance of its frozen
existence, fragile water directs all forms of life
by means of chemical reactions
Chaos is free, uses paths formed by patterns to
create unique directions for life to transcend
the present in unheard-of new innovations…
Lyall Watson "Supernature" pp.1-100
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Beautiful Cables (2) (Science poems)
Admiring the cables in the jersey Alta knit, asked
her - May I photograph it? – she brought me the
pattern – Now you can knit one yourself - mistaking
cable enthusiasm for craftwork interest - and I
smiled, not on your life
The beautiful cables just illustrate Many Worlds
Theory, every time we make a decision – coffee,
not tea, to the shops, not the sea - the universe
is said to split; yet I think it simply forms a bulky
cable at that point, then
Alternative lines come together in one direction -
maybe just like the Virgo supercluster movement
in which the Milky Way Galaxy travels - towards
the Great Attractor, like the Seven Samurai said,
small deviations in variables
Only create more cables in beautiful patterns, the
overall movement is steady; as we sway, the sun
spirals around the Milky Way, up and down like a
merry-go-round horse, all parallel universes
moving together - forming
Lovely cable patterns along the way, a delight
only seen by the gods…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Thunderbird Spirit Flight
so often repeating
same patterns
ingrained behaviour
behaviour man tribe choice
touch me not
thoughts thunder
I breathe not
thunder lightning storms
wake all senses rebirth mind
in storms elemental life
I breathe sound whips
see light rays ionize retina
storms infuse life pores
flight wings beat
thunder claps in day night sky
mouth eyes open
close mouth
creation words
cause lightbolts
witness universe
echo creation dance
boy sky eyes sees
speaks backwards writes
signs ritual wind stirs clouds script
light bred shades sky signs
eagle eyes hurricane flashes
flies thunderbird dimensions sight
darting vision sight wisdom's
intelligent powerful wrathful
worm greed tribe man breeds material
earth rape stirs thunderbird
anger in sacred mountains vast
Great Spirit sends thunderbird spirit
messages to spirit who listens
listen child tree of life
holds nest creation within
life branches sundance
while sun still shines
raise arms reach hands
embrace life visions
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Black Mouse Makes The World
Black mouse makes
the world
without frames
reaching through
shows empty hands
to each and the sky
confusing sky for
hands clinched in
tight yellow too much
feeling nothing green
is about to happen
or teach
clouds
hands
what do either
care drifting
beyond the
moon
the fiddler plays on
a tune about rain/leaves
in patterns upon
an apron
of rain
rabbit dances with-
out caution knowing
what holes to avoid
cuts loose
awash in blue
holes being of a
royal hue
a silver net
trap set inches
from soft pink
clueless paws pattering
musical notes of
lavender wash
kick up from
blind delight -
just dust clouds
before a fall
the bearded stranger
(red hangs the sweep
of his chin)
hangs back
in cobalt shadow
does not notice
so busy looking
for giants
Black Mouse
Black Mouse laughs
writes with its tail
something
just something
poem by Warren Falcon
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Please Do Not Be Disappointed With My Poetry
in the first place i do not really rhyme
not that i can't but i don't because i like it to be just that
like my life, i do not really rhyme with the world
there is more conflict
than harmony, i do not jibe and jam well with
yes, anybody, it simply takes time for them to really understand me
more more time for me too to understand them
and like them
and like me, as though living life is just a matter of liking each other
period, and not really trying to learn and be compassionate
and have this little sense of tolerance
this sense
of perhaps, he is just ekking his way to a steep mountain of his
trying hard
(copycat) of just trying to live in authenticity
honesty, that is the simplest word we can say
i always think of other things
sometimes people are just cruel
they want patterns they want people to be like other people
setting models
and trails made also by men and women with the usual human brains
poor judgments come and we do not bother we simply want others to
live normal lives
nothing deviant, shy away from the genius of ingenuity
trekking new paths
not minding the dangers of the unknown spreading like a red carpet
before our feet
back to poetry, this is my poetry and by now you have noticed
they are written as they come inside my mind
no patterns no molds no shape no expectations no
AA BB CC DD
just plain talk, spontaneous, like a tear falling from your eyes
shaping itself to pain and then falling without style
like a candle melting to the fire and shaping itself
in the air
there is simply no dictation of where and how and what
like ourselves our lives like chocolates in the box
of Forest Gump
we just don't know what we really get
we just let go
and let live and then die and be buried
tears for a while, and then
yes, forever forgotten.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter's Sun
Early morning's winter sun,
filters through the shades,
birds enjoying goodies,
as the frost of morning fades -
Moisture on the pavement,
makes patterns in the light,
and reminds us of the rain and snow,
we encountered in the night.
Darkened, silohuetted trees,
frame themselves, against the sky -
For the moment, for the season,
they have gladly died.
Still they stand, proud and tall,
leafless since the late, late fall,
taking each day as it is done,
waiting...watching...for the sun,
to bring them warmth as they stand mute,
in time to bud...in time, to fruit.
Winter comes and winter goes,
as fast as any clock can run,
the seasons come,
the seasons go,
and spring awaits old winter's sun.
poem by David Lessard
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Sunflowers After Sex.
After the sex she stood
In front of the Van Gogh
Painting and gazed. Never
Saw that last night, she said.
It was dark, Max replied.
She touched the painting
With her fingers. Why have
A painting of flowers when
You can go out and buy some?
She asked. They last longer this
Way, he replied. So did you
Paint this? She asked in a state
Of semi undress, her eyes sleepy,
Her hair in a mess. No, Van Gogh
Did, he replied. Is he a friend of
Yours? She asked rubbing her breasts.
He sighed and shook his head. No,
Van Gogh painted that many years
Ago, now he’s dead. It’s a bit yellow,
She said, looking at the painting
Closer, what are those yellow flowers
Supposed to be? Sunflowers, he said,
They’re big flowers; people grow them
For real. She raised her eyebrows and
Pulled a face. What about that drink?
She asked. Sure, Max replied pouring
Her gin in a tall glass. She took, sipped
And winked an eye. What about more
Sex? She sighed. Sure, Max, looking at
Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, boringly replied.
poem by Terry Collett
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A mathematician, like a painter or poet, is a maker of patterns. If his patterns are more permanent than theirs, it is because they are made with ideas.
quote by G.H. Hardy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A mathematician, like a painter or a poet, is a maker of patterns. If his patterns are more permanent than theirs, it is because they are made with ideas.
quote by Godfrey Harold Hardy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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