The Face Of The Philosophy Student
the face
does not breed the contempt
of familiarity
it forges a smile
beneath the
logical confusions
it shakes the hand
of the teacher
who now
is too old to remember
what reason
what cause
what knowledge was once
there
on the shoulders of youth
on the crisis of
middle age
on the thrill of what must
finally come
that peace
eternal.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sinning To Many Is A Frightening Premise
A familiarity may breed contempt.
And that encompasses,
A host of influences.
Having a familiarity,
May also include...
Some experiences achieved.
But an ignorance that breeds contempt,
Says a lot about one's limitations.
And the ease by which,
One who is thoughtless 'and' mindless too...
Can be programmed to self destruct.
Based on the feeding of fear alone.
And many people do,
Self destruct within minds stuck.
And fear to those ignorant,
Is as familiar to them...
As is their lack of knowledge.
Which also to them is treated like a sin.
And sinning to many like this,
Is a frightening premise.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Process...
when the mystery is finally gone
and familiarity rests on the carpeted floors
the ticks begin to
multiply and breed what makes
us apart
this contempt for so much
knowing
the taking for granted of
what used to be
love's luxuries
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!



Though familiarity may not breed contempt, it takes off the edge of admiration.
quote by William Hazlitt

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In politics, familiarity doesn't breed contempt. It breeds votes.
quote by Paul Lazarsfeld

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The familiarity
Familiarity might breed contempt.
Yet it is inevitable in small dozes
To generate interest in a person.
16.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Familiarity may breed contempt in some areas of human behavior, but in the field of social ideas it is the touchstone of acceptability.
quote by J. William Galbraith

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Quatrain #104 - Familiarity does often breed.......
Familiarity does often breed contempt
though with certain things it is exempt.
To have faith, trust and love in someone you do know
is what the art of true friendship is expected to show.
poem by George Krokos

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Supply Teacher
Here's the rule for what to do
If ever your teacher has the flu
Or for some other reason takes to her bed
And a different teacher comes instead
When the visiting teacher hangs up her hat
Writes the date on the board, does this or that
Always remember, you have to say this,
OUR teacher never does that, Miss!
When you want to change places or wander about
Or feel like getting the guinea pig out
Never forget, the message is this,
OUR teacher always lets us, Miss!
Then, when your teacher returns next day
And complains about the paint or clay
Remember these words, you just say this:
That OTHER teacher told us to, Miss!
poem by Allan Ahlberg

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Midlife Crisis
Shorthand for trying
to put the clock back and to be
as in your twenties and to flee
all thoughts of dying,
midlife crisis
puts into new perspective work,
enabling you to be a jerk,
not Dionysus.
Richard A. Friedman, a professor of psychiatry at Cornell University, writes about the midlife crisis in the Science Times of ther NY, January 15,2008 (“Crisis? Maybe He’s a Narcissistic Jerk”) :
With the possible exception of “the dog ate my homework, ” there is no handier excuse for human misbehavior than the midlife crisis. Popularly viewed as a unique developmental birthright of the human species, it supposedly strikes when most of us have finally figured ourselves out — only to discover that we have lost our youth and mortality is on the horizon. No doubt about it, life in the middle ages can be challenging. (Full disclosure: I’m 51.) What with the first signs of physical decline and the questions and doubts about one’s personal and professional accomplishments, it is a wonder that most of us survive. Not everyone is so lucky; some find themselves seized by a seemingly irresistible impulse to do something dramatic, even foolish. Everything, it appears, is fair game for a midlife crisis: one’s job, spouse, lover — you name it. I recently heard about a severe case from a patient whose husband of nearly 30 years abruptly told her that he “felt stalled and not self-actualized” and began his search for self-knowledge in the arms of another woman. It was not that her husband no longer loved her, she said he told her; he just did not find the relationship exciting anymore. “Maybe it’s a midlife crisis, ” she said, then added derisively, “Whatever that is.” Outraged and curious, she followed him one afternoon and was shocked to discover that her husband’s girlfriend was essentially a younger clone of herself, right down to her haircut and her taste in clothes. It doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to see that her husband wanted to turn back the clock and start over. But this hardly deserves the dignity of a label like “midlife crisis.” It sounds more like a search for novelty and thrill than for self-knowledge. In fact, the more I learned about her husband, it became clear that he had always been a self-centered guy who fretted about his lost vigor and was acutely sensitive to disappointment. This was a garden-variety case of a middle-aged narcissist grappling with the biggest insult he had ever faced: getting older. But you have to admit that “I’m having a midlife crisis” sounds a lot better than “I’m a narcissistic jerk having a meltdown.”
© 2008 Gershon Hepner 1/15/08
poem by Gershon Hepner

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Honored To Teacher Salah
In the hands of a gifted teacher
a classroom is a magical place
in the hands of a gifted teacher
There is a smile on each child's face
In the hands of a gifted teacher
Creative energy is everywhere
happiness and love spread all the way
god understood our thirst for knowledge,
And our need to be led..
That's why he sends us creature like this
That by being the right person at the right time
That may be enough to change someone's life
A teacher is a world by itself
That hold hope for anyone else…
A teacher is someone who could see potential
and believe in the best in others
a person that can understand you when you eyes blink
a great teacher is a person deserve to be blessed.
Memorable
I remember your eyes and your smile,
I remember the beauty of your face,
I remember where I thought about taking you,
I remember imagining that special place,
I remember how you would laugh
And bring your hand up to your lips,
I remember the gentle touch of your skin
When you touched me with your fingertips,
I remember how you held me close
When I asked you if I may have a dance,
I remember when we talked about
How we were brought together by chance
I remember when I would look up at you,
I remember how you would smile at me,
I remember how nervous I would get
Whenever it was you that I'd see,
I remember how our eyes would lock
And neither of our heads could turn away,
No, I can forget what I remember,
I'll remember it all until my dying day.
poem by Alex F. Chavez

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just Like Me
You have a stubborn disposition.
Just like me.
You are determined to accomplish.
Just like me.
You can annoy with your confidence.
And agitate with your insight.
Although you are not 'always' right...
You 'are',
Always right and committed.
And...
You say what you mean.
Just like me.
And do things with the best of your ability.
Gee...
That's just like me.
Perhaps familiarity does breed contempt.
And we see in each other what we dislike,
About each other.
Well...
All is not lost.
At least I never thought of you as horrible.
But you do provide irritating moments.
'Hey...
You took the words right out of my mouth.'
Yeah...
Unfortunately!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Memorable
I remember your eyes and your smile,
I remember the beauty of your face,
I remember where I thought about taking you,
I remember imagining that special place,
I remember how you would laugh
And bring your hand up to your lips,
I remember the gentle touch of your skin
When you touched me with your fingertips,
I remember how you held me close
When I asked you if I may have a dance,
I remember when we talked about
How we were brought together by chance
I remember when I would look up at you,
I remember how you would smile at me,
I remember how nervous I would get
Whenever it was you that I'd see,
I remember how our eyes would lock
And neither of our heads could turn away,
No, I can forget what I remember,
I'll remember it all until my dying day.
Alex F. Chavez
poem by suchul Jin

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Fool's Litany
When a youth they said I was uncouth, but they were wrong about me.
The world was in error as I could plainly see.
When I disagreed I did not heed whether friend, teacher or such.
I knew more than they in every way. I was better by so much.
Now I'm an adult and richer than all those poor, useless fools
Who make up a stagnant middle class where no one rules.
I seek more money so I and others in my chosen class
Can transform these non producers into a pile of broken glass.
Only then will this country regain the power it needs;
Rules not from middle class fools, but a selected, special breed.
poem by Gregory Huyette

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Subconciously
at the surface is a roy
could be roy something else
you face him
beneath a roy could be a jerry something
that you have met but could not fully
remember
you are determined not to be confused
and so you focus on the road that the the yellow bus is taking you
it is nothing but imagination
you are in the house
doing nothing because writing is actually nothing
beneath you is someone else and it
(a thing or something) is telling you what to write
you are not alarmed
it is nothing it is nothing but words and words are nothing
as a matter of familiarity
beneath your mind is the heart
beneath that heart are so many things
you try to enumerate names
and more names
and places
until you reach a certain marker, shades of red,
pathways of veins, flowing blood, all kept and contained
within the sound system
and then you look at your hands
beneath it
someone so lovely and beautiful
someone you desired for long
beneath you
and then you stop.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Love....
i love...
that's the reason i walk,
the reason i breathe.
the reason i grieve.
the reason i dance.
the reason i smile.
the reason i listen.
the reason i offer a hand.
the reason i see beauty.
the reason i see both darkness,
and light....
the reason i take chances.
the reason i keep going.
the reason i get angry.
the reason i forgive.
the reason i touch.
the reason i question.
the reason i believe.
the reason i am tolerant.
the reason i understand.
the reason i fall.
the reason i fly.
the reason i write...
the reason i am what i am!
poem by Eric Cockrell

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Cute Teacher
A cute teacher comes daily to teach us,
however she doesn't have enough for us,
since she has the confidence,
she gets his voice upto the fence,
dats how she teach us,
when students ask her the questions,
she find herself in the vast situation,
but she gives the answers,
due to her level of confidence,
which is upto the fence,
but doesn't have any logical sense,
i attends almost...ooppss sorry..all the classes
of her,
to see how god can make any lady so beautyful,
i can do any no. of assignment to get a single
glimse of smile of her,
but it comes so rarely..
but it does encourage me to do something...dat will
get his face filled with smiles..
dats how what our teacher..oops sorry..my cute
teacher is...
poem by Aarush Khandelwal

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Peace, Little Girl, Peace.
The poor young girl
with beach blonde hair
and pale white skin
stands in the middle of the street,
in the middle of a war.
Her face shows pain,
her face shows she wants help.
She goes to the hardware store
and steals a can of purple paint.
She doesn't know better,
so it doesn't matter.
The pale girl opens the can of purple paint
and uses her hands to write a message on the
big brick building wall.
She uses what knowledge she has of spelling,
and traces her purple paint covered fingers
over the wall.
First she draws a P
than an E
than she dips her hand back in the paint.
When she is done with the word,
the purple paint has run down the wall,
but you could still see the word very clearly.
It spelled PEACE.
The young girl takes her hand and presses it to the wall
leaving a very small purple handprint.
Then she runs.
A soldier calls after her,
'Peace little girl, Peace! '