The Latest One Looks Better
I read to my son a story
I heard read when I was a child.
I read it to my grandson
Each time my perception grew.
I visited the Taj Mahal
As a child, an adult and
An old one and each time
My perception got better view.
She was my teenage girlfriend.
I met her as a young mother
And later as a grand mother.
My perception underwent changes.
Partly my accumulated knowledge
And partly the impact on them
Of time and space are the causes.
The latest beat the formers..
(21.04.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Thus the same object may supply a practical perception to one person and a speculative one to another, or the same person may perceive it partly practically and partly speculatively.
quote by Samuel Alexander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She's Not My Girlfriend
Her heart is in my hand
It shivers like a toad
She tries to understand the
Tiny lump that's down inside her throat
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Her head is in my lap
It twists and coughs and sings
Her hair is in my grasp
It hangs and swings like swollen strings
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Her face is inside out
An open book report
I read what she's about
And she's filled with words that hurt
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Sometimes I want her in
Sometimes I want her out
My perception of sin
Is filled with pain and fear and doubt
She she she she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
She she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
Her clothes are on the ground
A crumpled rainbow mass
She's scattered all around
And she's scattered now like broken glass
It goes
Suck suck
Suck suck
Suck suck
Sometimes I want her in
Sometimes I want her out
My perception of sin
Is filled with pain and fear and doubt
She she she she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
She she, she isn't my girlfriend
No no, I'm not who you think I am
She she, she isn't my girlfriend
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Perception
Trust and faith
in what I believe
comes to me
through all I perceive.
If I perceive myself
as free,
then that is what
I always will be.
If I perceive
that everything's fine,
then my perception
is a grand design
that takes me above
the chaos and fear.
It becomes nothing
to which I adhere.
If I perceive
that I'm in control,
then my perception is
a midnight's stroll
that leads me to find
great peace within.
It completes the perception
my vision lets in.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The musician - if he be a good one - finds his own perception prompted by the poet's perception, and he translates the expression of that perception from the terms of poetry into the terms of music.
quote by John Drinkwater
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mother
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is conceived nine months in the womb
the child that is cradled at daytime,
night time until dawn?
How can a mother forget her child?
How can a mother forget her child
the child who after the flow of months
has learned to stand and run?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child whose mouth imitates her mother`s tongue,
the child who after a year or two can say,
'Mama, I love you'?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is so dear in her own heart and mind,
the child that reveals the mystery of creation,
the beauty of growth and human interaction.
the infinity of our own universe
within its finite linear time?
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Willingly hold it real
The story was fictional;
Yet I emoted when I read it.
It is a woman's image;
Yet I was turned on when I saw it.
Jokes were imaginary;
Yet I enjoyed them when told.
I willingly held them
Real to be in fool's paradise.
Partly to my weakness and
Partly to the makers' skills, the credit goes.
06.04.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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There has been a great gulf in psychological thought between the perception of space and objects on one hand and the perception of meaning on the other.
quote by James J. Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry is not a copy.
My poetry is my child, born of
Memory and perception.
A child resembles its parents
But is not held cheap as a copy.
01.07.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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None Of This Is As You Believe
It may be free.
And from your perception,
Even simple.
But none of this is as you believe.
There is a quality that deepens,
Each time you take to reach.
Each time there is a grasp of it,
You think is yours to keep...
Changes comes to stir,
What you had considered...
Already once occured.
It may be free.
And from your perception,
Even simple.
But none of this is as you believe.
Since you may find your comfort,
Surfing on the surface.
And much further below...
Is where this 'thing' breathes!
With a breeding that goes on undetected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beliefs Forever Tricked
Marketing a perception,
Is only as good as the result.
If an anticipated result is achieved,
A perception fed can be said to be successful.
Hopefully the perception sold,
Does not become intercepted by the reality.
A clash with reality could leave some minds whacked.
To become entrapped with beliefs forever tricked to enslave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Universe and All Its Stars
The Universe and all its stars
The universe and all its galaxies
The Multiverses if they really are
The kinds of Distances in Time and Space
All this great vastness so beyond my time and perception
Sadden me to hell
Deprive me of my comfort and consolation
Make me seem as if I am a small selfish self- deceiver
Whose love of family and need for God
Are only my own self- fakery -
All these distances and their exploration
Move me not-
If we are dead
What is it to me
How many shapes or not shapes
The universe or multiverse has or hasn't?
How many indifferent explosions and endless expansions and goings on
, with or without human perception,
happen or not?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Esp
Strength to have extra perception
Extra perception to know
that evil is lurking inside my brain
Evil is making a home of my heart
Extra Sensory Perception...
If only I had the strength to
let go and not try to escape...
poem by Justin Schaefer
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Perspective Perception
new enticing concepts
laptop dancing principles
there were new so many
for complex imagery
camera obscura was one
sharp dim diffracted
images changing
perspective perception
“Perspective perception
is dwelling
upon possibilities”
“Perspective perception is dwelling upon possibilities”
Quotation quoted from Miroslava Odalovic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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To perceive means to immobilize... we seize, in the act of perception, something which outruns perception itself.
quote by Henri Bergson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kawabata
No doubt
the crazy boy thinks
he's having his mother read
some sort of record
of his memories,
something that he wrote himself-
that's what he thinks
he's listening to.
His eyes sparkle
with pride.
His mother has no idea
whether or not he understands
what she's saying,
but every time
she comes to see him
she repeats
the same story,
and she gets better
and better at telling it-
it begins to seem like
she's actually reading a story
of her son's.
She remembers things
she had forgotten.
And the son's memories grow
more beautiful.
The son is drawing
the mother's story out,
helping her,
changing the story-
there's no way
of telling
whose novel it is,
whether it's the mother's
or the son's.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Woman
How can a mother ever quite forget,
or quite relinquish in her memory,
that state which babies share with saints:
to be free from all desires of mind?
And so the mother must take on
that strange but natural responsibility
to desire, for the baby in her charge; but then,
one day, to learn to stop to ‘mother’
for the child’s own growing sake..
And how much more, instinct and reason
must have played in Her; given a responsibility
greater than the world itself?
And who can ever know those private conversations
between the growing Child of God
and young earthly mother of that heavenly Child?
So, when at that wedding and its showing-forth
the servants were unsure, She was there
to say ‘Do what He says’..
And from John comes that bald account
which we must read each for ourself:
‘Woman, what have you to do with Me…? ’
He, not yet ready as He thought,
for destiny; divisive miracles?
Who knows how many private conversations
lay behind that question and its rhetoric –
public, and recorded by that deeply impressed scribe…
and whether it was said with gentle smile
(who reads the words of Jesus as from One
who almost always smiled – His words, a gift?)
or said with firm authority, which we may take
as heard by Her, not with a fusser’s shame,
but with Magnificat still ringing in Her mind?
And then, perhaps, She learned to grieve
and not to grieve, beneath a holy Cross..
I think this passage is forever read
by men in one way; women in another;
and perhaps, that’s just how it should be.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The perception of what a thing is and the perception of what it means are not separate, either.
quote by James J. Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The thing of which the act of perception is the perception is experienced as something not mental.
quote by Samuel Alexander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreaded Requests
I am not a rude or ignorant man,
but there are some things,
that I will not do.
Unfortunately, I do not like
to read a lot of what
I am politely requested to read.
I am often bombarded by people
asking me to read
and comment on their work.
I do not like to be rude
and ignore their pleas,
but I just read what I like,
not what I am asked to read.
I choose whom I like,
if I see a title I find interesting
I will take the time to read it
and make a mental note of the author.
If I like what I read,
I will dip into that author’s work
time and time again.
I do not care if they read my work or not
that is their choice and I have mine.
All I ask is let me make up my own mind.
Do not bombard me with notes
requesting that I read your work,
as I am likely to ignore them.
I am not being rude or ignorant
it is I just do not do requests.
poem by David Harris
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