Simple Thoughts
Simple thoughts
Simple minds
Draw up the curtain blinds
Lets see what is inside
A long weary journey home
built in a city far from Rome
With each gear the thoughts accelerate
Dreading the point when home is near
Shortly they disintegrate into fragments
Framents of love
Fragments of hope
Fragments of light in
the middle of night
Fragments of a peaceful bed
To rest ones tired swollen body
from a days work
after been well fed
They disintegrate into
Fragments of a night drink
All the bitterness and sorrow
can now sink
The mind can no longer think
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Related quotes
Still thinking of you
In this summer night
I am still thinking about you...
Without any disdain...
Fragments of thoughts
Spill over to paper floors...
Fragments of internal life
Honoring the mind and heart
With inscriptions of free
And unrestrained imaginations
While still thinking about you...
©All Rights Reserved-2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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The Reflection of God
Thoughts are like ripples,
gently flowing over
the surface of the mind.
Deep inside us
we bear the image of God,
the ripples of thought break that image
into fragments.
It is as if you are looking in
a lake full of ripples-
It is a full moon night,
and the lake is reflecting
the beautiful moon.
But the lake is full of ripples
You cannot gather the moon together;
the moon goes on splitting
into a thousand fragments.
The whole lake seems to be
spread over by the moon-
the silvery beauty, softly broken apart;
many a fragments is seen floating-
all around.
Then the wind stops,
the ripples disappear:
those fragments start falling into one moon.
The silver that was spread
all over the lake,
now becomes more concentrated
into one place - into one moon.
When the lake
is completely without ripples,
the moon is reflected perfectly.
God is reflected perfectly
when there is no ripple in you.
poem by Nazmul Haque
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The Fragments Of My Poetry
The fragments of my poetry
Mirror the tempests green
The billows black and frothing
In my breast.
The fragments of my poetry
Are chromosomes littered randomly
But from them the body of poetry
Can rise.
The fragments of my poetry
Are like the broken mirror:
That I broke silently -
My heart is broken.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Frammento
A fragment is something incomplete
Something broken-off, severed,
Detached, segregated,
A fragment of a conversation,
Extant fragments of an ancient
Document written on stone,
A fragment of my poetry,
How
do
i
say
it?
………………………………….
Some fragments of myself
Missing some fragments of
Myself hidden, and you will
Not find them, too many fragments
like lice in a native woman's
hair spreading on her head
I place them where
You cannot find them because
You presume too much
To know me to love me,
Along this line, so many parts
are detached, perhaps my navel
my mole, my thumb
my right ear, my left eye
So many parts severed, perhaps
My head from my heart
my mind from my soul
my past from my future
Some extant fragments of
My past self, written on some
Stones still unturned, yes
I have pretended so much
And you cannot detect
Which is true from false
i have become so many parts
of myself, now in the last hours
fragmented
wanting to be whole again..
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fragments Picked To Bits
Fragments picked to bits,
Leave bits of fragments picked...
With a wish when witnessed,
Those fragments picked to bits...
Had more potential when left to sit,
Alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fragments (2)
I see fragments
Of memories
Scattered in the floor
Of our past
I am bound
And my hands are dying
I am muted
By bitterness and pain
I am a broken bone
My heart is maimed
My mind is floating
Like clouds drifting
I see fragments
I see leaves
Blown by the wind
I can do nothing
I see dusts
The wind has come
And everything
Is blown away
I see emptiness
I hear nothing
I am here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Among The Ashes
In among the ashes
of your old love letters
the fragments of your
contemptuous love lay.
The hopes that were dashed
when the chips were down.
The dreams that you abandoned
in the games you played.
In among the ashes
of your old love letters
the fragments of your
flirtatious heart lay.
The constant cheating
that brought our stronghold down.
The flames now licking wounds
of your constant forays.
In among the ashes
of your old love letters
the fragments of what
could have been lay.
Instead, I’m burning bridges
putting the past and you behind.
Burning your old love letters
that you left behind
to taunt and remind me
of the love I thought was mine.
Now the ashes I scatter to the four winds
and the place to where you might have gone
abandoning home and family
for just another fling.
26 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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Many works of the ancients have become fragments. Many works of the moderns are fragments at the time of their origin.
quote by Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fragments Of My Life....
so many fragments of my life
scattered on the floor
on the skies they were taken
by the wind
to the oceans they were pressed
by the rain
there were risings and fallings
there were so many fillings
i always move on
not bothering to pick them up
i cut myself into pieces again
time after time
into more countless fragments
i do not bother those parts
those sheddings
for they are no longer mine
but for the world
and then the last fragment was taken away
and i am left with nothing
and then the perfection was done
i am from nothing and to nothing i must go
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thoughts Mind Soul Echoes
thoughts like children
scatter from our mind
thoughts were part of us?
thoughts came from us?
thoughts live beyond us?
thoughts outlive our lives?
thoughts mind soul echoes
haunting fragments of mind
light shines through prisms
separates into colour bands
thought trails sunset colours
spectrum ribbons thoughts
spiral into keen conceptions
meaning insight discriminates
poem by Terence George Craddock
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We live in the mind, in ideas, in fragments. We no longer drink in the wild outer music of the streets - we remember only.
quote by Henry Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts
Thoughts
Sounds of raindrops
In the stillness of a winter night
How does anyone have foresight
Tired swollen eyes
In complete emptiness a body lies
Creating a wilderness of thoughts
Occasional sounds of a car passing by
Interrupt the flow of the nights dream
Innocent thoughts
Spurn from the womb
To mould a man from a woman
Mystified power
Unexplained energy
Unconventional thinking
Giving birth to what is called instinct
A change of destiny
Chanced by thoughts
When at the break of dawn
The minds meet and comprehend unspoken words
Silent thoughts
No one can hear
Your mysterious moment
Only you can bear
It’s your need to be free
To be at peace with oneself
Silent thoughts
A secret moment
To indulge into wishful thinking
Then champion the process into creative thinking
To see how events can be influenced
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Fragrants of my heart
Scooping up the dyed pieces dried stiff,
From the burning sun that is yet young,
Swift time command that nothing be lost,
And took faith to where the wind has blown.
Our dreams and hopes away from the course,
To collect all the fragments our thoughts own,
In burning pain, when residue silence eclipse,
The forlorn path our marred visage has worn.
We look at defeat with pools of citadel eyes,
Arch back determine to complete the sentence,
And remember how love was like a daunting quiz,
Where youthful time and words made no sense.
And having found too, my heart was broken,
Just as those brunt pieces became blunt,
I stoop to mend, in borrowed feelings began,
Slowly to collect the fragments of my heart.
And close emotions where other doors open,
For a new entrance into my shrouded soul,
Betrayal bruises the air with every breath taken,
Fragments of our lives throughout the world.
Trail with participle phrase and Reciprocate,
Against the wretched barriers and angry fire,
In lonely afterthought every pain fixes the subordinate,
Until winding time became the only obvious healer.
poem by Gerry Legister
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What is human memory?" Manning asked. He gazed at the air as he spoke, as if lecturing an invisible audience - as perhaps he was. "It certainly is not a passive recording mechanism, like a digital disc or a tape. It is more like a story-telling machine. Sensory information is broken down into shards of perception, which are broken down again to be stored as memory fragments. And at night, as the body rests, these fragments are brought out from storage, reassembled and replayed. Each run-through etches them deeper into the brain's neural structure. And each time a memory is rehearsed or recalled it is elaborated. We may add a little, lose a little, tinker with the logic, fill in sections that have faded, perhaps even conflate disparate events.In extreme cases, we refer to this as confabulation. The brain creates and recreates the past, producing, in the end, a version of events that may bear little resemblance to what actually occurred. To first order, I believe it's true to say that everything I remember is false
Arthur C. Clarke in The Light of Other Days
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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Sundancer.
New weekends
Come and too soon gone.
Are only faded fragments.
Distorted.
In your face.
A life aborted.
Youth was ours.
Like everyone,
The garden party
Was always
Food left over.
Never as good
As in your mind.
Mothers` tired frown,
When the night
Had passed.
At all the clearing up
To be done.
Next year we`ll plan
It better in
January letters.
Evenings spent poorly
Walking out your weary old setter.
poem by Peter Vealey
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Curtain Of Iron
The streets of the city are barren
All the windows and doors have been closed
As the night draws near
You can feel their fear
Their freedom is just an illusion
And they tell us that love is a lie
Can it all be true
What can one man do
(Chorus)
See the pages as they turn
Never will the children learn
Born as a prisoner in a curtain of iron
Never will the pages turn
The City of Gold's in the distance
And they've already forgotten their dream
Visions slowly fade
In this land of shade
(Chorus)
As the power grows, darkness spreading
Hope is still alive, though we're dreading
What the future holds, no more need to
Fear what all men face
Only good can win the race
Rumors speak of war, all the nations
Turmoil in the streets, tribulations
Now it's plain to see
All the prophecies are taking place
Only good can win the race
There are fragments of truth still remaining
And they bring them the light of the world
To this hope we cling
Till the bells will ring
See the pages as they turn
In their wisdom we will learn
Our bloody history soon will resolve
See the pages as they turn
In their wisdom we will learn
Free from the prison, a Curtain of Iron
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Light Does Matter
I have a certain light, in me is a light,
That spoke often enough in the day
And dived into the night to be a defiance.
I had a dream of nights and their issues
Concerning tragedy and comedy,
Of all the sensible money matters
And all relationships I own.
In a certain light my mind does dissolve
Into fragments, to assume another light
Of much authority.
I give this light if snatched and high is your talent
When light is received.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Too Much Like Alone....
holy infidels laying stone
for the pathway to the intimate...
stopping to smoke, a cup of coffee,
maybe a shot to break the chill...
books are only people
waiting to be set free from the shelf...
people are only spider's webs,
catching tiny fragments of light.
and this body a tired prayer,
spoken by lips both bruised and shaken.
my hand smells too much like alone,
but my feet know the way home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Broken Fragments Of Water
Cool earthenware pot
holding water as if it were
love that slopped & lapped
over its top
full to the brim
wearing with pride
the touch of your fingerprints
still visible
from its making
one lost windy night
the fierceness of its blue glaze
and now it contains
summer
and this blessed coolness
of water
on this the hottest
day
green grass
becoming yellow
under the heat's gaze
and the angry voices
drifting out of an open
upstairs window
becoming lost amongst
thorns and their roses
bleeding into noon
our anger knocking over
all the things we made
seeing our earthenware pot
cool to the touch
& full to the lip with love
like water
fall through the air
becoming only shattered shards
an emptiness
that cannot be
contained no longer
for one moment in its falling
the water held
containerless
between Heaven & earth
before dashing itself
upon the floor
broken fragments
of water
(a voice screaming: 'It's
over...it's over! ')
broken fragments
of water
scattered here and there
splashes of lost love
love lost
lost love.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Sceletons Of Society
Minutes seem like days
Since fire ruled the sky
The rich became the beggars
And the fools became the wise
Memories linger in my brain
Of burning from the acid rain
A pain I never have won
Nothing here remains
No future and no past
No one could foresee
The end that came so fast
Hear the prophet make his guess
That paradise lies to the west
So join his quest for the sun
Shades of death are all I see
Fragments of what used to be
The world slowly decays
Destruction fills my eyes
Harboring the image
Of a spiraling demise
Burning winds release they fury
Simulating judge and jury
Drifting flurries of pain
Deafening silence reigns
As twilight fills the sky
Eventual supremacy
Daylight waits to die
Darkness always calls my name
A pawn in this recurring game
Humanity going insane
Shades of death are all I see
Fragments of what used to be
Minutes seem like days
Corrosion fills the sky
Morbid dreams of anarchy
Brought judgement in disguise
Memories linger in my brain
Life with nothing more to gain
Perpetual madness remains
Shades of death are all I see
Skeletons of society
Fragments of what used to be
Skeletons of society
song performed by by Slayer from Seasons In The Abyss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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