Two Worlds
as he keeps polishing
his poem
she also keeps
polishing
her porcelain wares.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From One's Soul
When a rawness has rubbed off,
And one knows they have paid the cost...
With that touch that is finished.
To glow and not diminish.
A gloss radiating seems to fit,
An acknowledgement that praises it.
Raise up a glass.
And toast those facts at last.
That a polishing done did it.
With a sparkling gloss it gets.
Raise up a glass.
And toast those facts at last.
That a polishing done did it.
With a sparkling gloss it gets.
When it's done from one's soul,
It can not be bought or sold.
With that giving of a gloss it gets.
And an attention that seems fit.
When it's done from one's soul,
It can not be repo(ed) .
With a polishing done to it.
And that gloss that seems to fit.
Raise up a glass.
And toast those facts at last.
That a polishing done did it.
With a sparkling gloss it gets.
When a rawness has rubbed off,
And one knows they have paid the cost...
It can not be repo(ed) .
When it's done from one's soul.
And...
A polishing done did it.
With a sparkling gloss it gets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I see no reason why I should tickle stones or waste time on polishing bronze.
quote by Louise Berliawsky Nevelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My training was that you fill in the canvas where it needs colour and polishing. You start with the words on the first night and keep adding bits of business.
Pantun - Rambut di Balut Jadi Sanggul
the hair is rolled into a coiffure
jasmine refines the look
polishing skills results in great art
hardwork to face all challenges
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Once I've got the first draft down on paper then I do five or six more drafts, the last two of which will be polishing drafts. The ones in between will flesh out the characters and maybe I'll check my research.
quote by Colleen McCullough
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't write a quick draft and then revise; instead, I work slowly page by page, revising and polishing.
quote by Dean Koontz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Despite
The polishing of the sand
And wood has come
One day in my life
On such a solemnity
This newly built wall
On such high proportions
Is making no sense
Of my old principles
But I can’t live without them
Something is proven
Despite all these plans
The bad things still happen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Day's End
I fill this small space,
coarse stone in the stream,
as soft, summer winds
gently shape me,
my rough lines smoothing,
polishing dull skin,
‘til golden and gleaming
I’m clean once again.
poem by Steven Federle
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John Henry Lloyd is the man I gave the credit to for polishing my skills. He taught me how to play third base and how to protect myself. John taught me more baseball than anyone else.
quote by Judy Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When You Are Done Feeding Yourself On Lies
You have repeatedly shown,
You have no regard for me.
One day when your eyes have cleared,
You will acknowledge how much of your life
I have nourished.
And my contributions to your survival,
You have despised...
Will be freed from your deceptions.
And your ability to slander...
Is chased away by remorse and honesty.
When you are done feeding yourself on lies...
Only then will you begin to respect my worth!
With a polishing done to your own.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Roo
A large, red kangaroo
hopped into a bar on West 47th St.
and ordered a martini.
The bartender, polishing a
glass, really didn't
feel like being inter-active,
but ever the professional, remarked,
'We don't get many kangaroos
in this place-know what I mean'?
The kangaroo, a little miffed, replied
'No. And at these prices
You're not likely to be getting many more, either'.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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While Displaying An Impatience Shown
There is no such thing,
As someone misplacing to forget to use...
An obtained and claimed integrity.
Or a polishing up of a trust,
Allowed to dust, rust and go bellyup in bankruptcy.
To then seek a repeating of a forgiveness,
From one who has grown too numb to give it.
Knowing the act of it means nothing to another,
Awaiting to expect to hear it given, again!
While displaying an impatience shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Exudes An Oozing Flaunted Pulchritude
Seeking a familiarity,
That comforts a nervousness?
Seeking to be gratified by a confirmation...
That allows for a polishing of pride,
And a strut that exudes an oozing flaunted pulchritude?
I do too!
But unlike you,
My attempts have always met with contempt.
They call what you do 'strength'.
Of course my identical movements are called arrogance.
Either way...
I just want it known that the 'air' I embrace feels great!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Somebody Has To
Somebody has to go polish the stars,
They're looking a little bit dull.
Somebody has to go polish the stars,
For the eagles and starlings and gulls
Have all been complaining they're tarnished and worn,
They say they want new ones we cannot afford.
So please get your rags
And your polishing jars,
Somebody has to go polish the stars.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Terrain
It was always painful to remember the suicide
of a painter,
who was drawing the landscape
of hunger.
Polishing his art of pretention.
The time whistled past his window
without punctuation.
The terrain was tough, deepened by
requiem, the tears dried up
on the cheeks of chastity.
Script without drum and hue
of glowing eyes,
cracked lips
of us and our instruments of tragedy.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Daughter
You brighten each day
the scent of peach
the blush of dawn
the humor of a million.
You tickle the dawn to happiness
drawing the rose to flush your cheeks
you bring out the love in everyone
polishing the world, making it go round.
No matter what I say or do
from such a faulty human being
I love and treasure you, always
I'm glad you came my way!
poem by Michael L. Williams
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Two souls
Everyone is many sided personality
and it doesn't depend on your mentality
if you want to meet another soul
so that to be together as a whole;
with your characters, deeds and actions
together come to a certain perfection
like diamonds polishing each other,
like diamonds sparkling together
reverberate in each others soul,
live together playing one role.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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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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Chosen People
Chosen People
because God needs
a fine example to
show to the human race
righteousness translates
into his blessings
and thieveries, his retributions
and above all, that he is
full of love and compassion
for what he has created
but no nonsense when it comes
to polishing them up for
a place in the heavens
Chosen too are those
given only the opportunity
to watch, read or experience first hand
God's save the human race dramas
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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