Sensitivity And Imagination In The World Of Poetry
the pebble that you have
collected from the shore
last spring
breathes like a tick
the paper clip that lays on your
study table
begins to
move like a maggot
something is more beautiful than
this
sensitivity widens
imagination
paving more pathways to
the colored world
of dreams
the blank paper begins to have
a face
shaping a mouth
a tongue
that shapes a smile for you
the table becomes the sea
where sailboats take its long journey
nothing
no one falls at the edge
they just fade.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Middle of Madness
I can hear every tick of the clock.
My body is showered from nervous sweat.
Oh no my pencil tip broke,
and I must stop to sharpen it;
all the while losing time.
My mind has gone as blank
as the paper which I’m writing on.
Tick – Tock goes the clock as time moves on.
Times up the voice shots;
My hand goes limp and my pencil falls to
rest upon the edge of the paper.
I let out a big sigh of relief, for the madness has subside,
For my mid-terms are done.
Every other artist begins with a blank canvas, a piece of paper the photographer begins with the finished product.
quote by Edward Steichen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Journey
when you can look
in the mirror,
and see your self naked
without running like hell...
the journey begins!
when you can look
at your every action,
judging your self honestly
by motive and intent...
the journey begins!
when you can give away
all that you cling to
without asking for anything
in return...
the journey begins!
when you can do the right thing
irregardless of the cost,
not caring what anyone says
or thinks...
the journey begins!
when you can see the faces
of God in the people you
despise the most, the ones
who've hurt you the most...
the journey begins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Journey Of A Thousand Miles, Begins In A First Step
THE JOURNEY OF A THOUSAND MILES, BEGINS IN A FIRST STEP
In everything we do in this life, it always begins in a first step. In other words, when we want to achieve something or excel in any field of endeavor in this life, we must take the first step or move. Basically, we can not move upward in a ladder without stepping on the first step and if we will not take the first move to go upward and journey beyond a thousand miles in seeking our dreams and aspirations in this life.
In our ardent desire to achieve our ambitions, aspirations, wants and needs in this life, we really can not have them if we are not willing to take the first initiative, first move or first step towards such long journey before reaching the petals of our desires or aspirations in this life we owed from God. We must really have the guts, courage and patience to dip our own toe in the sand of burning obstacles, trials and bellowing risk with prudence in this life before we can finally reach the pinnacle of our dreams. It always take a single step to begin any long and arduous journey in this life while we are seeking the meaning of our sense of being and reaching and realizing what we wanted to do and become in this life.
We really can not move forward or go a long way in this journey of life to reach our desired destiny our faith or fate may determines without taking the first leap of courage, sacrifice, patience and perseverance along with dynamic commitment and interest to go on with the journey even if at times the way we are traveling may not be as cool as we wanted or as clear as we prayed. Indeed, any journey in the ocean of life to reach the other shore of our dreams and aspirations in life always begins in sailing with a first paddle of guts and courage to succeed.
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Wasting My Time
seeing a stack of books and paper works
on top of my table
i decide to have a break
and shy away from all these
legalese
i face the screen
of my life and let some intermittent lights
flash before my face
i put my fingers on the keys
and think some more
and imagine some images
about my past
and how like a blob
a monster
it has eaten both my present and future
quite scary
but the wizard says
that to defeat this malware of my mind
i must start to write
and keep on writing about
this malady
until then
when everything gets resolved
when the present
breathes life inside my deflated soul
and the future like a baby
begins to crawl
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Journey From Small Place
I make a journey in a paper
A contemplation ink in white field
I make a journey inside the book
Traveling my imagination in the word ocean
I make a journey under the table
A furious food battle on the ground
I make a journey on top of the roof
Transforming myself among the cloud in the sky
I make a journey outside the glass
A different possibility faces on the transparent canvas
I make a journey at the bridge
Clearing the dark shadow with the water current
I make a journey above the tree
An adventure child who never stop to grow
I make a journey over my pillow
Bringing a piece of dream to reality world
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Journey From A Small Place
I think I'll journey out some day to wondrous lands afar,
Or even chart a journey to a distant blazing star.
I make a journey in a paper
A contemplation ink in white field
I make a journey inside the book
Traveling my imagination in the word ocean
I make a journey under the table
A furious food battle on the ground
I make a journey on top of the roof
Transforming myself among the cloud in the sky
I make a journey outside the glass
A different possibility faces on the transparent canvas
I make a journey at the bridge
Clearing the dark shadow with the water current
I make a journey above the tree
An adventure child who never stops to grow
I make a journey over my pillow
Bringing a piece of dream to reality world
poem by Selam G. Sekuar
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A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
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A Table For Two!
Flash of dream overcome me
as I took slumber one night
I saw a romantic setting
lies a set of table for two
A bouquet of red roses
decorate at the center
where a bottle of red wine
completes the table for two
I saw you entered the haven
dressed in rainbow colored suit
your face so pretty with a smile
as we kissed at the table for two
Mesmerized by your countenance
I was filled with romantic stance
as we danced to the tune of love
such so divine at the table for two
Awaken at height of joy
I am filled with inspiration
as today it becomes a reality
a table for two on Valentines day
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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An Ode for David
Inspiration
From a lopsided table?
Words written down
Told as a fable
Strange request you have
My dear friend
Inspiration I will find
This I do intend
Wooden Table
Possess my tongue
Wintered table
Cry from my lungs
Pen striking paper
You shall be my muse
May the bleeding ink
Cry of your blues
Splintered skin
In a corner rest forgotten
Winding legs
You stand wild as cotton
Pen stroke slide
Across your lofty floor
Three legs you stand
When you should have four
Awkward table
You have no friend
Ancient table
You've reached your bitterend
Should my pen learn sea legs
I'd love you once more
But, on three legs you stand
When you should have four
poem by Kay Gardner
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Words on paper
Words on paper
~
Just words on paper
Where a story is told
An emotion revealed
Or a love laid to rest
Where a dream begins
An ambition is spoken
Perhaps a whim of fancy
Takes charge of the pen
To write what is written
Letters forming words
Shapley and beautiful
Expressions of a soul
Or a mind at play
There across the page
Words on paper
Written to have their say
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Paper, Only for a Limited Time
Paper, blank and empty
A metaphor only meant for loneliness
White as new born snow
Lets add some words
To make a prophesized poem
Words, only meant for rhetorical use
Clouds that clear, only meant to hide the blue
The living, moving ocean that is our sky
Words, only meant for questioning
What are words but meaning
Clearing clouds, our living pulse bleeds through
Now this blank piece of paper
Has a shadow, and my shadow -combine
Lets make music together
Beautiful, wonderful, majestic music
Lets be music together-
And dance our hearts to something holy
Paper, blank and empty
But easily filled to create art
Art that can change the world
Turn it upside down, or nothing
Paper, blank and empty
But only for a limited time.
poem by Troy Clark
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Rubbish Tip
At the rubbish tip they place their words
Just on the edge of
Surreal and absurd
A gold leafed edge
A lettered page
At teh rubbish tip
They stage
Their acts in
'THREE PARTS SCENE ONE'
Then you arrive
By stage door three
With a broken heart
All at sea
With the rythmn
Of the words
They left you to say
Can't see the wood for the trees today
At the rubbish dump
The hungry sit
Wide eyed
Death in their mouths
Waiting to eat
The bread of the words
The crumbs from a table
Of rotten verse
Yet still they come the blind and the dumb
Sit up and write
Recite it all night
Without a pause
Or space for 'applause'
READ THE PAPER!
It makes more sense to believe in
The tablod lies
Than live in a world of man made pretense
Take your tongue from your cheek
The fibre glass from your eye
BETTER NOT TO SAY A THING
DON'T TIP THE WORDS FROM YOUR MOUTH
TO THE PAGE...VOMIT BREACHED
just stay silent
Let the rain fall one more time
It's a sign of the times sell fast stories
Falling of dirty ink presses
distresses on paper
OUR DAILY BREAD SPOON FED!
ANGUS HAM STRINGS
poem by Yvette Smith
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a poem for Rosie
the castle of paper
that we create from a
sheet of white
bond paper
stands on the brown
table
tall and proud so
they say
but we know Rosie
that this is just plain
creativity
could be a way of
expressing your
self's discontent of the
surroundings
the foul air
the heavy rain that
seems not to stop
the muddy path
to the market and the
church
betraying fate
and foolish friends
but you know Rosie
very well that nothing
lasts forever
the water paper
the paper castle
gathers dusts
and soon we are fed up
on this
i am going away and
you too
but we shall not
be together for i also
get fed up
on you as you shall soon
to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Table for Two
Table for Two
Anywhere
Me and you
Anytime
‘neath the stars,
waterfront,
midday sun.
The focus –
for love
and time and space
to still awhile
and face
each other
and gaze
and smile
and edge across the table -
and kiss
July 2008
poem by Colin Phillimore
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A sensual scribble
I was the scribe who woke up at dawn
Finding a clean sheet of paper
And this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
Having the urge to write
Something sensual
My fingers spread the paper
On this table
Where there is so much disorder
Some paper clips and
Floppy discs scattered
Scotch tapes and mail openers
And some still unopened mails
That I did not mind
Not my priority
I was into something sensual
On this clean sheet of paper
On an urge to write
Grabbed this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
And start scribbling
Some lovely head notes
“My dear darling”
Careful strokes in curves
Sliding on paper
My fingers are wildly
Caressing to the shapes of
Sensual letters and words
And breathtaking sentences
“You know that you make me
Hot and you make me wild
And I always remember you”
And I am at the middle
Of so much longing
Using such letters
U and I
And w and e
Lots of ohs and ahs
And s and e and x
L and o and v and e
To make sense
Without pretense
Some exclamations
And pauses of commas and
Semicolons spread on some
Corners of this paper
With so much
Unstoppable anticipation
Somewhere in the center
I pierced this paper
With this glossy ballpoint pen
Writing something
Emphatic
Clinching
And I was at the height
Of my desiring and
So much liking
Something ecstatic
And calming
At the end
It was a beautiful piece
Of a scribble
Written at dawn
And I wrote at the end part there
“With all my love I remain
Your faithful slave”
And a postscript at the tip
Of my tongue
Written with a nip
“When will I see you again? ”
The letter shall be mailed at once
She will understand that pierce
Somewhere at the center something
That was ecstatic and she will remember
Every letter every word was an ember embedded.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Writers Block
The worst thing any writer can experience
is the most dreaded writers block.
Sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper
waiting and waiting for the words to come.
It is the curse of all writers
whether they are good or bad.
The frustration of trying to unblock their mind.
We try it with reading others words or soothing music
hoping to stimulate the little grey cells into working.
However it is never as easy as it sounds
as a writers block can sometimes last for years,
I know that from experience as
I have been down that road before.
Then the inexplicable happens and you pick up a pen
and that blank page is not blank anymore,
it is filled with words galore.
The torture is over and a new start begins.
You give a big sigh of relief as your writing begins again,
but being always weary in case that block comes back again.
14 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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This World Over
Ah well, thats this world over
Ah well, next one begins
Will you smile like any mother
As you bathe your brand new twins?
Will you sing about the missiles
As you dry odd numbered limbs?
Ah well, thats this world over
Ah well, next one begins
Ah well, thats this world over
You sadly grin
Will you tell them about that far off and mythical land
About their leader with the famous face?
Will you tell them that the reason nothing ever grows
In the garden anymore
Because he wanted to win the craziest race
Thats this world over
Will you smile like any father
With your children on a sunday hike?
When you get to a sea of rubble
And they ask ''what was london like?
You tell them, ''ah well, thats the world over
Will you tell them about that far off and mythical land
And how a child to the virgin came?
Will you tell them that the reason why we murdered
Everything upon the surface of the world
So we can stand right up and say we did it in his name?
Thats this world over
Or so it seems
Thats this world over
The end of dreams
Thats this world over, over, over and out.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Odyssey of the Soul
Childhood falls
Suffocated by lies
Promises of tomorrow
Trade the dreams of today
Consumer chase begins
A little piece of beauty
Sacrificed to adulthood
Wonder, Imagination
Don’t leave me now
Vanishing days
Carelessly slip away
Time and tide dispels
All childlike things
Life becomes dimmer
Too old for fun
Fun is fun it’s ageless
It is just fun, and its free
Maturity, yes maturity
Ever seen the world
Is this maturity?
I must act my age
My spirit rises before me
So many seasons, so much time
Eyes searching for a sign
Doesn’t anyone realise
Mistaken we equate childishness
For the gift of being childlike
Age straps on the chains
We become a worldling
Stolen childhood, silently
Lost Along the way
Childlike observations
Were not meant to wither
Imagination crushed by facts
Dreaming dreams, just dreams
Dreams worth coming true
This too will pass, with age
Who would have thought
walking between rain drops
would become silly
Capturing the frosted
Cobwebs on a twig
restricted to the young
Imagination, imagination
when did it happen
was I distracted
full of self wisdom
unaware that now begins
the oddyssey of the soul
the long trek home
to my Father’s arms
poem by Adrian Wait
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