The Tenth Poem
Thou shalt not covet
thy neighbor's poem;
neither shalt thou desire...
his metaphors,
nor his similes,
nor his oxymorons,
nor his ironies
his metalepsis
his paradoxes
his anthimeria
his litotes,
ellipses,
zeugma,
anapodoton,
epizeuxis,
anaphora,
pleonasm
nor anything
that is his.
etcetera etcetera
The tenth poem
forbids
coveting the poems
of another.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Decalogue
Thou shalt no God but me adore:
'Twere too expensive to have more.
No images nor idols make
For Roger Ingersoll to break.
Take not God's name in vain: select
A time when it will have effect.
Work not on Sabbath days at all,
But go to see the teams play ball.
Honor thy parents. That creates
For life insurance lower rates.
Kill not, abet not those who kill;
Thou shalt not pay thy butcher's bill.
Kiss not thy neighbor's wife, unless
Thine own thy neighbor doth caress.
Don't steal; thou'lt never thus compete
Successfully in business. Cheat.
Bear not false witness--that is low--
But 'hear 'tis rumored so and so.'
Covet thou naught that thou hast got
By hook or crook, or somehow, got.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The Latest Decalogue
Thou shalt have one God only; who
Would be at the expense of two?
No graven images may be
Worshipp'd, except the currency:
Swear not at all; for, for thy curse
Thine enemy is none the worse:
At church on Sunday to attend
Will serve to keep the world thy friend:
Honour thy parents; that is, all
From whom advancement may befall:
Thou shalt not kill; but need'st not strive
Officiously to keep alive:
Do not adultery commit;
Advantage rarely comes of it:
Thou shalt not steal; an empty feat,
When it's so lucrative to cheat:
Bear not false witness; let the lie
Have time on its own wings to fly:
Thou shalt not covet; but tradition
Approves all forms of competition.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I have ten commandments. The first nine are, thou shalt not bore. The tenth is, thou shalt have right of final cut.
quote by Billy Wilder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He said not 'Thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be dis-eased' but he said, 'Thou shalt not be overcome.'
quote by Juliana of Norwich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, for there are plenty of others.
This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Drool, Etcetera....
when you wake up this morning you rush yourself
on the usual
many things to do
but never completely done
but just the same
you keep on doing it
like opening windows, closing doors,
mopping floors, washing underwear,
brushing teeth,
etcetera
now you are working
the table offers you the menu for the stress of the day
you count them
and start at
the first file,
etcetera the clock even if you do not mind it
keeps on ticking,
nothing unusual really,
you keep on thinking and writing notes and then
making conclusions
affecting the life of other people
they become simply case numbers
and usual names,
nothing extraordinary really
etcetera
you stop, make some sighs, breathe,
stand, sit, lay your head on the sofa,
and think,
etcetera
this world is black and white,
there are no more rainbows, the rains are cats and dogs
the little shower is gone,
the slowness of beauty is murdered,
the strip teasing of something that your mind coddles
and fondles
takes time,
the unfolding of the flower is choked,
the buds are nipped,
births are scraped,
off,
and on,
push and pull,
that is the language i learn from you,
etcetera,
etcetera
i did not invent it,
we say it when we do not know
what follows next
etcetera
life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Two Voices
There are two voices with me in the night,
Easing my grief. The God of Israel saith,
``I am the Lord thy God which vanquisheth.
See that thou walk unswerving in my sight,
So shall thy enemies thy footstool be.
I will avenge.'' Then wake I suddenly,
And, as a man new armoured for the fight,
I shout aloud against my enemy.
Anon, another speaks, a voice of care
With sorrow laden and akin to grief,
``My son,'' it saith, ``What is my will with thee?
The burden of my sorrows thou shalt share.
With thieves thou too shalt be accounted thief,
And in my kingdom thou shalt sup with me.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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In Maximum
WOULDST thou be free? I think it not, indeed;
But if thou wouldst, attend this simple rede:
When quite contented }thou canst dine at home
Thou shall be free when }
And drink a small wine of the march of Rome;
When thou canst see unmoved thy neighbour's plate,
And wear my threadbare toga in the gate;
When thou hast learned to love a small abode,
And not to choose a mistress A LA MODE:
When thus contained and bridled thou shalt be,
Then, Maximus, then first shalt thou be free.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Thou Shalt Find Happiness
Thou shalt find Happiness
Thou shalt not seek the darkness
Nor to hide amongst its shadows
To recede into It’s cobwebs
And forever forget peace
But to come out from the rocks
Into the blinding light
Holding high your downcast head
Exposing your pale faced stare
Establishing an awareness yet unknown
Unto the emptiness that is
Open your heart to better things
Know peace or no peace
Thou shalt not linger in the hot musty places
Which have long since been your home
But to enter into the kingdom
That now awaits the id
A hand is outreached to find you
Places you’ve dared not go
To realities yet unreal
And too soft to touch
Release me from my bondage
My self-inflicted pain
Which I have been powerless to capture
On my own
Only happiness can bring happiness
Lead me there
Must I be clean to take a bath?
Wash me free
Thou shalt not allow this trek
To destroy all that is
Better things await.
Happiness
Like sand
Slipping idly by
I do not have the tools
On my own
My hand is out
There is little time
This is my happy poem
Find it while I can’t
July 4,2008
Lisa M. Callicott
poem by Lisa M. Callicott
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Magni Nominnus Umbra
St. Andrews! not for ever thine shall be
Merely the shadow of a mighty name,
The remnant only of an ancient fame
Which time has crumbled, as thy rocks the sea.
For thou, to whom was given the earliest key
Of knowledge in this land (and all men came
To learn of thee), shalt once more rise and claim
The glory that of right belongs to thee.
Grey in thine age, there yet in thee abides
The force of youth, to make thyself anew
A name of honour and a place of power.
Arise, then! shake the dust from off thy sides;
Thou shalt have many where thou now hast few;
Again thou shalt be great. Quick come the hour!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Ennui
when you want to
refuse to think
when you
want to stop
doing anything
yet you cannot
because
you are still
alive
and there
is no way
that you
can refrain
from living
this and that
etcetera
endless etcetera
keeping
yourself
busy for
nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Yea, Thou Shalt Die
Yea, thou shalt die,
And lie
Dumb in the silent tomb;
Nor to thy name
Shall there be any fame
In ages yet to be or years to come:
For of the flowering Rose,
Which on Pieria blows,
Thou hast no share:
But in sad Hades' house,
Unknown, inglorious,
'Mid the dim shades that wander there
Shalt thou flit forth and haunt the filmy air.
LXXII The Choice, II
Watch thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die.
Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death?
Is not the day which God's word promiseth
To come man knows not when? In yonder sky
Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I
Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath
Even at this moment haply quickeneth
The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh
Though screen'd and hid, shall walk the daylight here.
And dost thou prate of all that man shall do?
Canst thou, who hast but plagues, presume to be
Glad in his gladness that comes after thee?
Will his strength slay thy worm in Hell? Go to:
Cover thy countenance, and watch, and fear.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The House of Life: 72. The Choice, II
Watch thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die.
Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death?
Is not the day which God's word promiseth
To come man knows not when? In yonder sky
Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I
Or thou assure him of his goal? God's breath
Even at this moment haply quickeneth
The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh
Though screen'd and hid, shall walk the daylight here.
And dost thou prate of all that man shall do?
Canst thou, who hast but plagues, presume to be
Glad in his gladness that comes after thee?
Will his strength slay thy worm in Hell? Go to:
Cover thy countenance, and watch, and fear.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations, and thou shalt be called, the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in.
in Bible, Isaiah 58:12
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations, and thou shalt be called, the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in.
Love Rides Disguised
What name is his, thy knight's? Nay, ask it not.
If fate should hear thee, child, what griefs might come.
Love rides disguised. He fears a counterplot
For his own plot of joy in heathendom.
Restrained he goes; a single rose--red plume
Is all his badge. No blazon hath he wrought,
Device nor sign; his motto ``sum qui sum.''
Silent is he of Court and Camelot.
--Be wise, sweetheart, nor tempt time to mischance.
Love at his own hour shall his whole face show.
Oh, if thou hast not seen him, thou shalt see!
Undo shalt thou his helm with thy blest hands,
Nurse his tired head upon thy pitying knee.
Then shall he tell all, and thou all shalt know.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Quip
The merry World did on a day
With his train-bands and mates agree
To meet together where I lay,
And all in sport to jeer at me.
First Beauty crept into a rose,
Which when I pluck'd not, "Sir," said she,
"Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those?"
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.
Then Money came, and chinking still,
"What tune is this, poor man?" said he;
"I heard in music you had skill:"
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.
Then came brave Glory puffing by
In silks that whistled, who but he?
He scarce allow'd me half an eye:
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.
Then came quick Wit and Conversation,
And he would needs a comfort be,
And, to be short, make an oration:
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.
Yet when the hour of Thy design
To answer these fine things shall come,
Speak not at large, say, I am Thine;
And then they have their answer home.
poem by George Herbert
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