The Writer...
IT is not the books
not the words neither is there an
expert way of fishing for
metaphors,
IT is the life lived (and for some
cut so shortly like an unfinished tapestry of
fallen leaves on top of the
flowing skin of the silvery river)
IT is the life that is lived to the fullest extent
no shortcuts, no surrender of the last glimmer of hope,
Till the last day, IT IS our lives that write us
and it that unplanned and
unexpected death
that says the
last words at the last page
of this unpublished
book.
IT IS LIFE
the writer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Vanity, Vanity
Vanity, Vanity, all is vanity; words expressed to you and me,
All our labors, here on earth, and what ultimately is its worth?
All men are born to just die, a common destiny for you and I,
And all this life is meaningless, words Solomon uttered to us.
The wisest man to ever live, parting words that he would give,
To all of the people of his age, recorded on Scripture’s page,
And even for our age to read; words of wisdom we can heed,
As we reflect, also, on our life, in the blessings and the strife.
He speaks of life upon earth, through to death, from his birth,
Of all the events in between, as we are in this temporal scene,
And just how empty it can be, when peoples discount eternity,
And that lasting Hope, God gives, to every soul that still lives.
Friend, Ecclesiastes is the book, if one desires to take a look,
At other things Solomon said; wisdom, many souls have read,
While he draws conclusions to, life lived daily, by me and you,
On the planet, of God’s Design, Who changes not, in our time.
With everything Solomon knew, what is a conclusion he drew?
In all times consider The Creator, this world’s Lord and Savior,
Fear God and keep His Law, as He alone, can save one’s soul,
And use your life to glorify, The Lord God, Who reigns on high.
(Copyright ©07/2010)
Definition of life (in my eyes)
Life is the love you find
Life is the hate you have
LIfe is the only companion to go to
When your friends are hard to reach
Life is the happiness
Life is the sadness
Life is the emotions
We get when in a dilemma of confusion
Life is our gift
Life is our curse
Life is our death
Which can be avoided if you treat it right
Life is not to be taken for granted
Life is to be lived to the fullest
Life is to be loved and cared for
Why? 'cause it's the only one we're getting
poem by Ashleigh Michaud
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Definition Of Life (In My Eyes)
Life is the love you find
Life is the hate you have
LIfe is the only companion to go to
When your friends are hard to reach
Life is the happiness
Life is the sadness
Life is the emotions
We get when in a dilemma of confusion
Life is our gift
Life is our curse
Life is our death
Which can be avoided if you treat it right
Life is not to be taken for granted
Life is to be lived to the fullest
Life is to be loved and cared for
Why? 'cause it's the only one we're getting
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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And I Love You So
(words & music by don mclean)
And I love you so,
The people ask me how,
How Ive lived till now
I tell them I dont know
I guess they understand
How lonely life has been
But life began again
The day you took my hand
And yes I know how lonely life can be
Shadows follow me
The night wont set me free
But I dont let the evening get me down
Now that youre around me
And you love me too
Your thoughts are just for me
You set my spirit free
Im happy that you do
The book of life is brief
Once the page is read
All but love is dead
This is my believe
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life and Death, How Ironic
Life, it described my Mother
Life, she was the image
Life, she was healthy
Life, she loved every day
Life, you saw it in her eyes
Life, you heard it in her voice
Life, how ironic it could be
Death, the impossible
Death, too somber a thought for her
Death, she would live a long, long time before it would confront her
Death, sickness maybe, but there is always a cure
Death, not even a thought in the doctor’s mind
Death, it now replaced life
Life and death, my mother passed away with a look of peace on her face
She died knowing that she lived every moment to the fullest.
poem by Janice Karp
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The Writer and the Blood Inked Quil
The Writer and the Blood Inked Quill
By: Adam M. Snow
The candle flickered by a passing gentle breeze;
My quill dries up leaving not I at ease.
My words upon page now left to hang.
A reader's disappointment, now a writer's pang.
Misery held me as time stood still,
My heart has fallen because my mind is ill.
I stare at blank page as all words elude me,
I can't help to wonder, 'How could this be? '
Torment follows as night falls victim to dread;
My ink once black now turns blood red.
I wrote my soul upon each page,
As time ticks by with every age.
The word itself scream an agony scream;
I, the writer without a dream.
But what bedevils myself to write,
Elude me once more with the fall of night.
My nightly whimper comes with a toll,
My life upon the page, now bearing my soul.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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So Much Life Longing For More Life
SO MUCH LIFE LONGING FOR MORE LIFE
So much life longing for more life
Wanting to live so much
To feel to experience to know to enjoy to love.
So much life
Others have lived
So much life
I would have lived.
And the life I have lived?
More than I can know or understand
So much of it gone forever.
And all the longing and all the memories
And all the love,
Where is it now?
I have lived so much
And never lived enough
And want to live too much more
And know I will never live enough
And know I have lived so much much more
Than I will ever know again.
Life and more life,
Longing and more longing,
Life- Please God-
Not Death.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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If I Lived One More LIfe... I Would
If I lived one more life
I would melt by the gentle sight of you
I would believe that your love is true
I would erase my fake intention
I would hold back all my foolish emotion
If I lived one more life
I would read all yr colorful envelopes
I would never burn your words of hopes
I would cherish your banner on the wall
I would make sure it will never fall
If I lived one more life
I would pick up your call night & days
I would guarantee your mind not decays
I would let my door open at all time
I would safe your sanity to prevent any crime
If I lived one more life
I would stand before you on my knee
I would beg your family to forgive me
I would plead to share your torture
I would fight to bring back your future
If I lived one more life
I would endure all your hate
I would accept you as my fate
I would strive to give you the best of me
I would die in your arms and be happy
If I lived one more life … I would
Dedicated to D.N.R – It’s been 14 years… This is my apology, I mean every word.
poem by Niken Kusuma Wardani
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And Their Bindery
He lives among us like a eater of books,
Strolling with the guards of the laws and works.
He lived around the road,
Where they caught the load.
It was a book of inspiration
Carrying blind men a nation.
We do help a common man,
But this manly man was a book-fan.
Neither loving nor living his life,
The sword of a plain soldier was tough
To handle, to lift, and then swift
He challenges a most dangerous drift.
He lives with the bible of soldiery
Instead of the past-books, and their bindery.
poem by Naveed Akram
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And I Love You
And I love you so
People ask me how
How I've lived til' now..
I tell them I don't know
I guess they understand
How lonely life has been
Life began again
The day you took my hand
And yes I know...
How lonely life can be
The shadows follow me
And the night won't set me free
But I don't let
The evening get me down..
Now that you're around with me
And you love me too
Your thoughts are just for me
You set my spirit free
I'm happy that you do
The book of life is green ..
Once the page is read
All but love is dead
That is my belief
And yes I know
How loveless life can be
The shadows follow me
And the night won't set me free..
but I don't let the evening get me down
Now that you're around with me...
And I love you so...
People ask me how
How I've lived till now
I tell them I don't kow
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you loved me, you would rejoice
life to life with you
arm to arm and mind indulging
with the mind
what is it that bothers us?
a bird without wings?
a horse without hoofs?
a man without eyes?
an old woman without a
burial site? a coffin unfinished?
a poem unsigned?
unfinished business
defective structures like
house without pillars
trains without tracks
cocoons without leaves
words without meaning
a poem without a definite ending
a page without a margin
a dog without an ear
a fish not in school
there are sighs unsifted
love unrequited
And now I have told you this
before it happens....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've Lived My Life
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I left the country for the city thought I was smart but I was silly
I should have known I'd get in trouble being so green
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I met a boy and learned to love him I would have done anything for him
I've loved him more than anything I've ever seen
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over I ruined my life to please my lover
I made him happy he made me cry then said goodbye
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over...
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And I Love You So
And I love you so.
The people ask me how,
How Ive lived till now.
I tell them I dont know.
I guess they understand
How lonely life has been.
But life began again
The day you took my hand.
And, yes, I know how lonely life can be.
The shadows follow me, and the night wont set me free.
But I dont let the evening get me down
Now that youre around me.
And you love me, too.
Your thoughts are just for me;
You set my spirit free.
Im happy that you do.
The book of life is brief
And once a page is read,
All but love is dead.
That is my belief.
And, yes, I know how loveless life can be.
The shadows follow me, and the night wont set me free.
But I dont let the evening bring me down
Now that youre around me.
And I love you so.
The people ask me how,
How Ive lived till now.
I tell them, I dont know.
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books Of Words
A new height has been achieved
By the tall men and tall women,
The people of the book that was raised
From the grounds of the school.
A new mind has occurred from imagining
The books and words and letters,
Shining forth from the page of its master
And writer who wrote the achievement.
We are history and time, we combine to feed
The mouths of our children,
As more of a book is studied by them,
More words are taught to their ears.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Had I lived another life
Had I lived another life
~
Had I lived another life
What would I have to show in equal years
Would I be loved instead of just loving
And know the lasting secret to another’s heart
How would I then count my mistakes
Would my company be welcomed not accepted
It is a fruitless thought to be considered
For the never will be a known answer
I am but the sum of all my years combined
I harbour my guilt and shameful pride
Those words I wish to take back
And the others I now wished I had now said
Had I lived another life
Would I carry these same regrets
Would I know sorrows of yet another unkind
There are things which have shaped me
That I would happily go back and change
Perhaps in another life I may well feel the same
For all the unknown reasoning’s
One thing stands out as a certain
That life is a gift, a gift to the living
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Making Of A Poem
What's a poem?
It's a metaphor, it's a metaphor,
What's a metaphor?
'It is a device for seeing something in terms of something else.
It brings out the thisness of that, or a thatness of this.'
How do I write a metaphor?
Think of rain as the cry of the heavens,
Think of love as a rose,
Think of burning candle as the agony of a lonely heart.
How do I piece together metaphors?
On a moonlit night, I see my love reflected in the moon's silvery light,
Holding her tight, I smell the fragrance of jasmine tonight,
Adoring her smile, I see the beauty of monarch butterflies,
Staring in her eyes, I see the oasis of love in my high desert lonely life.
How do I write a poem?
I love her but have not a spoken a word.
You have the inspiration, put in some romantic words.
On a beautiful moon lit night, I wonder who is prettier,
When I look at you, I forget about the moon.
Knit together love, loneliness, fear and tears of heart,
Into a beautiful tapestry of emotions and feelings that mask your heart,
Stitch some metaphors, make it a heartwarming comforter.
poem by Jay P Narain
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0005 Letter to a Younger Poet
Thanks for your letter. Though
you’ve caught me at a rather awkward time –
I’m going into surgery tomorrow – a rather
risky op; so I’ll try to put all the answers that I’ve got
into this one letter;
I hope you'll understand...
and that helps me to make my first point to you:
write as if you, too, may not live
beyond tomorrow – write as if
it’s the last thing that you’ll ever write –
give it everything you’ve got,
hold nothing back;
or better still – write as if
the world will end for everyone tomorrow:
write so that in their last hours, too, this
will make them feel, will make them know
we’ve faced life fully, faced it so complete
that death is relatively unimportant now…
write as if it were only yesterday
that, in an air crash, all your family –
parents, wife or husband, partner, children, and best friend,
had lost their lives; write as if,
were you not to write,
your heart would break forever, or you would go mad...
write as if you’re writing somewhere
where there’s no such thing around, as ink;
you’ll have to use your own blood in the pen,
so use it carefully; so red, so living,
look at it… so beautiful, so precious,
and so solemn – use it carefully, don’t spill a drop…
write as if you’re borrowing every word
from the very centre of the universe, where suns and gods are made;
and need thus to account for every word
with your whole life, no less; know that every word
must be given back, cleaner, stronger, brighter
with your own power, than when you borrowed it;
write as if every poet that ever lived
is leaning over your shoulder, so that you
can feel their breath upon your neck as they say
‘Tell them all that we would tell,
but cannot now; tell them all of this’…
this, now, is how you must deeply be and speak;
write as if you are the only being on earth
who can tell them this; as if tomorrow, if tomorrow comes,
you shall visit them every one, at home,
and look them in the eye; write as if
you love them more than they will ever know;
write as if you were offering to live their lives with them;
write as if you were a force of nature in yourself:
as if whatever earthquake, hurricane or flood might do,
whatever law or love may greatly do,
whatever gods or men can speak, in fullest force,
this you may do, because the sound of poetry is such;
yes, write ‘as if’ – but know you really write ‘because’…
write as if – no, write because –
you know that only poetry can tell
all, that must be told, and must be known;
and as all hearts melt in the heat of your own love,
be in no doubt – and see that all are in no doubt too –
that life was never, never more serious,
never more glorious, than it is right now;
write all this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Shut Not Your Doors, &c.
SHUT not your doors to me, proud libraries,
For that which was lacking on all your well-fill'd shelves, yet
needed most, I bring;
Forth from the army, the war emerging--a book I have made,
The words of my book nothing--the drift of it everything;
A book separate, not link'd with the rest, nor felt by the intellect,
But you, ye untold latencies, will thrill to every page;
Through Space and Time fused in a chant, and the flowing, eternal
Identity,
To Nature, encompassing these, encompassing God--to the joyous,
electric All,
To the sense of Death--and accepting, exulting in Death, in its turn,
the same as life,
The entrance of Man I sing. 10
poem by Walt Whitman
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A Life Philosophy
a life philosophy
not a philosophy on life
a living philosophy
clear concise defined
articulated in civil rights liberty
clemency morality humanitarian symmetry
it is not important to memorize words
words thoughts searched out through years decades
words become life beat peace harmonies
not a manifesto
not written out
not important to memorize
to write out
to be distorted
to be used to manipulate minds
a manifesto not
written out not
important to memorize not
no a great life philosophy
is lived in simplicity acts of humility
freedom gifted to all humanity
love in life
love for all life one life
love sacred fertile compassion love life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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