En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Traces Of Time

Anchored to nowhere,
Blank pages upon my mind,
A word or two of stillness,
Scribbled blindly in the fog...

Companion of phrase,
Tiptoes furtively out the back door
Becoming fearful of stumbling
While rhyme and reason
Slip senselessly through the floor...

Unlimited dullness,
Swaggering with a meaningful gait,
Enters the flattened obscurity,
Deepening within intervals of silence...

Disconnected illusions,
Thin and shriveled at the edges,
Trailing a flutter of withered leaves,
Coloring the traces of Time...

poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blank

Blank pages, blank lines
Blank heart, blank mind
Blank feeling, blank soul
Blank high, blank low.

I dont know why
You just cant see
That all you've ever known
Is the blank side of me.

poem by Lady Hope
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Into Abstract Pictures Painted

There are those who wish to make sense,
In an attempt to make that process meant...
And meaningful.
But their lack of experience to get a point across,
Leaves those misunderstanding...
What is the intention if communicating a thought,
Is a statement made.
'Assuming' it,
Has been clearly delivered to receive a response...
From someone not into abstract pictures painted.
Or statemements made disconnected from rhyme,
Purpose OR reason.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the tip of your tongue.

You know, you know but can't explain
Just how or why you came to gain.
The facts stored in your memory.

Odd facts stored subconsciously.
For no good reason seemingly.
Stored away haphazardly.

Though ev'ry fact our mind has stored.
It had some reason to record.
A nugget added to the hoard.

A vast accumulation
Of useless information.
We very seldom call upon.

But when we do it's sad but true
We find that we cannot renew.
The direct link that leads us to.

The word or phrase we want to find.
Amongst those hidden in our mind.
The system is not well designed.

We can't recover what we've stored.
Our efforts totally ignored.
Our mind decides it can't afford.

To grant unlimited access.
Although it leaves us free to guess. The reason for such stubbornness.Thursday,12 April 2012

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost For Words

Wordless I sit
I’ve lost all rhyme and rhythm,
Words I can grasp slip thru
My fingers
to fall around my feet
In jumbled order,
I want to climb
The popular ladder
Blank sheets are all I can offer.
Will the words rise off the floor
Can any expealladotious word
knock on the door?
That’s left ajar for metaphors
That may sneak in.
Nature speaks in its
Own bounty full way,
All the clock can say
Is tick tock
To seal my mental block,
Wait I think its coming back
The end of my block, yes yes,
Hickory Dickery Dock!

poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Space

I was dreaming of a white space
Had interposed itself between us two-

A blank wall; neither dark nor light
No recrimination there but silence
The silence that falls only at night.

Silence gone to snowy hazards
Like the shadows made from deeper blue-

And invisible but slippery edges,
As blindly groping in the darkness
To reach the haven- but you're not there yet.

Though I would wall myself with silence
And spend my life as one, not two-

Before I'd hurt another being,
Sometimes intentions brick the dam up
Before the devastation's seen.

poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lines Extracted From A Dream

'I think of it like a book,
I dont care for your self-authored words
of pity and sorrow, though yes they are just.
It isn't the narrative in you that interests me...
It is those blank pages in you that hold my court,
All books have them; those blank pages at the end,
Unfilled and undetermined, where you havent yet scribbled.
They are yet to be subject to anything,
And even if they are not destined for a happily ever after,
That does not mean i can't hope to find solace and closure in them.
What is to stop us writing our own fable in spite of what is already written?
What already is, is,
But what will be is ours to fathom through the velvet folds Of fate.
Surely.'

poem by Graham Stone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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November 28,2007 is the International Day of Stillness: A Poem for the day

'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so well?

Stillness said,
By being with you always.
I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?

Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.

I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?

Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?
I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?

Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:
I sit with babies while they smile;
I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;

I sit with the angry and disturbed,
and watch them grow to peace;
I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;
I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;

I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;
I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;

I sit with those who pray or meditate,
as they find God in themselves;
I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;

I walk in the gardens of the dawn,
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch;
I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I listen to the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;

Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?
I said to Stillness,
May I never leave you.
And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:
‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Senselessly Cruel

When I was a poor young boy at school
Girls like you always played me for a fool
But now, a time has come to lay to waste
The theory people have of getting an acquired taste
You treated me -
Oh, so, so senselessly cruel
Oh baby, you were so senselessly cruel
From the beginnings I suspected the worst
And you didnt disappoint me
It was just that you were the first
But now, I wouldnt let you touch me
If you were within a foot
And girl, Im never ever gonna get hurt
cause you treated me -
Oh, so senselessly cruel
Oh now, so senselessly cruel
(oh, so senselessly cruel)
(oh, so senselessly cruel)

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thin Spirits

Another face
Another empty space
The feelings fade
And all the lonely ones are left hiding
Your spirits so thin
Theres nothing left to take
Without rhyme or reason
You point the other way
I dont need to watch as
You go down in flames
I said over and over
The water comes
And leaves its faint traces
Youre bored to tears
Ill keep you here but you wont listen

song performed by by Finger Eleven
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stillness: a Poem for the International Day of Stillness, November 28

'Stillness is my beloved teacher.
From her, I learn new things every day.'

I said to Stillness,
how can you teach me so well?

Stillness said,
By being with you always.

I said to Stillness,
How can you teach me so much?

Stillness said,
Because you have much within you;
I, but a mirror for your mind;
I, but a mirror for your heart.

I said to Stillness,
O my beloved teacher, will you
promise me you will never leave me?

Stillness said,
I cannot leave you;
though you can leave me..
but what is stillness without a companion?

I said to Stillness,
Is your work hard?

Stillness said,
I have the most wonderful task that I could wish for:

I sit with babies while they smile;

I sit with children in the classroom
as they delight to learn;

I sit with the angry and disturbed,
And watch them grow to peace;

I sit with the sad and lonely and bereaved
and watch them rediscover happiness and joy;

I sit with kings and queens and rulers
while they find wisdom and mercy;

I sit with governments and committees
while they find reason and justice;

I sit with artists and scientists,
and watch them find new things outside themselves,
and find new things within themselves;

I sit with those who pray or meditate,
and watch them find God in themselves;

I sit at the feet of saints
while they become perfection;

I fly with birds, in the silence of the air;
I watch the animals as they explore the earth;
I hear the growing of the trees and plants;
I listen to the opening of the flowers;

I walk in the gardens of the dawn;
I walk in the gardens of the dusk;
in the deep of the night, I watch.

Said Stillness,
I am the friend and the companion of all;
who would not love to share my life with me?

I said to Stillness,
may I never leave you.

And Stillness looked me in the eye,
and Stillness smiled at me:

‘I am born with every creature born
to be their friend for life.’

*
(With acknowledgements to Iain Trousdell of New Zealand, whose poem quoted from in the first two lines inspired this extension..)

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blank Pages

Blank pages
Blank books
Lie with only drowning white
No pretty messages in the sand
No clocks to turn a hand

Blank pages
Blank books
Looking into an empty void
Like staring at purgatory
Words with no meaning making up a story

Blank pages
Blank books
Stay staring at the celing

Empty without effort

Nothing without words

poem by Autumn Winds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Word That Smells

I've found a reason not to rhyme.
Or open a door to flowing prose.
I suppose I am not feeling poetic today.
Nor especially free of speech.
Although there is a discipline to write.
Sometimes my mind turns off like a light.

And even though I said,
I've found a reason not to rhyme...
Something 'automatic' within me resists.
Something inside of me refuses to respond,
To my temptations that exist to just say...
It!
You know.
That word that smells when one feels like hell!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Discover ‘SILENCE ‘

I discovered a stunning stillness,
‘SILENCE’ a musical wave,
My thoughts dint appear beautiful than this time,
I felt, I regained my inner dead Emotions,
And now ponder more on …Silence’s Beauty...

Silence is a mystery,
And a magical union,
Silence is of soul and heart,
And mind’s internal peace,
Silence unite love with all creations,
And form attachment with all disclosed hearts.

Silence belongs to everyone,
It is beyond word ‘SILENCE’….
It inculcates an extreme essence to fasten together,
And embody a true peace and love within and around.

Silence is present every moment...
And it alerts you to open yourself towards life.
Silence is present every moment...
Within the stillness of nights and peace of early mornings
Silence is present every moment…
To intimate its appearance in all worldly needs.

poem by Richa Dhodi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bereft

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly striking at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret my be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.

poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blank Space Inside Us

there are blank pages
some say that it is a must that something must be drawn
words to be written
thoughts to stifle, capture,
stuffed,

there is a day that you prefer
to keep a blank sky
a dark sky without stars
no light

when you close your eyes
you are at home with this blank page
words become
invincible
but they are all there
perfectly correct
well viewed by the eyes of your heart

somehow you go beyond
your every
day fences
move away, jump and run towards
an island of light
a patch of green grass

still no stars
pure blank
it is when you do not believe in the power of thoughts
when what preoccupies you
is nothing when you are finally one with all
space
it is too peaceful to even dropp a word
like a pin on
a shiny floor of tiles....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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about a friend named A. K.

if you only knew where he lives
a dark corner of this hospital ward
his hands and feet jacketed at times
during times of seizures and fits

if you could have only seen how he
sits for hours on the floor beside an iron door
how the wind that touches him pains him
like his skin is removed from this flesh and bone
if you could have heard his screams and then
when nurses rush to him to give his dose
of sanity back through the usual injections

if you could have only felt the beatings of his
heart and his tremors running through all his fingers

if you could have only seen him on lucid intervals
how he scribbled his lost lines through his laptop
spending hours recalling what should have been forgotten

my dear friend if you have the heart of someone human
you could not have called him moron
for whatever he is, he is part of you and me and us and this world

if you have seen him all alone trying to meet his soul halfway
between a murmur and an incantation

you could not have said such a very cruel word

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet-Robert Edgar Burns (February 14,1953-April 20,2012)

The final curtain lowered itself
As footlights shown ever bright
And from the balcony-there was still applause
In what had been the theater of your life;
Your poetry-a warming banner
Of Anthems of Life and Hymns of Grace
Always with gentle traces of you upon the pages
And the goodness that shown upon your face;
But pain had been your constant companion
With no reprieve in sight
God in all of His infinite wisdom and compassion
Called you home the other night;
Now you have your Genesis in Heaven
A mortal Soul of Poetry's Divine Word
Writing your simple truths and light-hearted reflections
Leaving a Legacy of your rhyme to be forever heard;

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Void

Pascal had his Void that went with him day and night.
- Alas! It’s all Abyss, - action, longing, dream,
the Word! And I feel Panic’s storm-wind stream
through my hair, and make it stand upright.
Above, below, around, the desert, the deep,
the silence, the fearful compelling spaces...
With his knowing hand, in my dark, God traces
a multi-formed nightmare without release.
I fear sleep as one fears a deep hole,
full of vague terror. Where to, who knows?
I see only infinity at every window,
and my spirit haunted by vertigo’s stress
envies the stillness of Nothingness.
- Ah! Never to escape from Being and Number!

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Living Off Of Memories

I am living off of memories--
Just wasting my time....
The hours pass into days...
And there is no reason nor rhyme;

Blue skies have gone missing-
Replaced by dark grey--
The Sun has taken its leave---
And the night has replaced day;

Springtime no longer exists-
All the blossoms are withered and dry--
Summer times brillance...
For me has just died;

I am living of of memories--
Just wasting my time...
The hours pass into days
There is no reason nor rhyme;

All that is left is a remnant...
Of days spent with you...
The fabrric of yesterdays love...
Now distant from view;

It is far off and laying atop-
Our love making bed...
Just a remnant-a remnant...
Of loving words once said;

I am living off of memories--
Just wasting my time...
The hours pass into days--
There is no reason nor rhyme;

I'm caught in the between...
Of yesterdays time...
Back in that sweet day---
When you were once mine;

Song Lyrics
May23,2010

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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L'An Trentiesme De Mon Eage

And I have come upon this place
By lost ways, by a nod, by words,
By faces, by an old man's face
At Morlaix lifted to the birds,

By hands upon the tablecloth
At Aldebori's, by the thin
Child's hands that opened to the moth
And let the flutter of the moonlight in,

By hands, by voices, by the voice
Of Mrs. Whitman on the stair,
By Margaret's 'If we had the choice
To choose or not - 'through her thick hair,

By voices, by the creak and fall
Of footsteps on the upper floor,
By silence waiting in the hall
Between the doorbell and the door,

By words, by voices, a lost way - ,
And here above the chimney stack
The unknown constellations sway -
And by what way shall I go back?

poem by Archibald MacLeish
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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