Civilizations In Transition
Read a few ancient words written
meaning to inspire souls to slay?
Who makes these decisions?
What is kept what is thrown away?
Civilizations in transition?
What perishes passes what ultimately stays?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
You are my poetry
You are my poetry
You are the beautiful words
Written by my pen
You are my inspiration
You inspire words of happiness
You inspire a smile upon my face
A smile that is able to create
A whole new world of poetry
Poetry of just you and me
You are my poetry
I join you within the words
Within something that makes everything happy
Within something that makes me happy
poem by Rebecca Rowback
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Lip Service
Words inspire and words destroy
Words conspire and words annoy
Words spread freedom and words detain
Words believe them in sound refrain
Words of passion in words misleading
Words without action are words without meaning
poem by P.R. Prosper
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Working on the value of words
Working on the value of words
~
some words require more
more than being spoken
written, read or listened to
some words need feeling
given their own soul
a touch of emotion
some words fall easily
across the page
or off the tongue
like a catchphrase
meaning almost nothing
words without value
spoken to be heard
said and not listened to
or written and missed
all without feeling
give words emotion
soul, fire and life
give words value
work the next line
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Poet's Soul
I read the poet's souls in the poems,
I read the poet's inner world.
Pulse beats louder, then duller,
And all my doubts are just hurled.
The sadness sometimes a kiss cover,
Then suddenly curled at my feet,
Giving the whole body a heat,
The warmth of a true lover.
Fever passes through nervous points,
Chill runs through the whole body,
I read the poet's souls in the poems,
And feel that the soul is haughty.
I delve into the words and their nature,
Understanding destroys the walls,
Now I would like to capture
The main idea and the poems calls.
I read and my joy is in full swing,
My own soul gets the wings,
I am ready to fly with the singer,
Like me the poet is a swinger.
I am with that one who dared
To plunge into the holy spring naked,
I am with that one who shared
An inspiration and was not faked.
I read the poet's souls in the poems.
But do I read the souls of reality or dream?
Let's deem that no one here and there lies,
And the law of poetry is always precise.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 4th of April,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Variable Worlds Elastic
Contrast images spin
never write destinies
cast down before sudden
need infuses in written
passion transcendent
into fresh written thought
wormholes rapidly flood
mind cells surrealistic
dimensions in string
theory reality decisions
made unmade differing
timing reshapes endless
variable worlds elastic
in civilizations infinite.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
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Scribal Culture
sheaves scribal pages
mountains of words
the man with words
is verse master of worlds
making a piece of men
primal transferable experience
so far we have come
from primeval soup existence
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
sheave - to gather, collect, or bind into a sheaf or sheaves.
scribal - (scribal culture) scribes who could read and write usually in several languages, were responsible for translating and accurately producing copies on manuscripts on papyri, parchment or vellum. Books of texts written by hand were extremely expensive, especially in the ancient world where scribes had a limited shelf life before the invention of glasses. In ancient illiterate civilizations writing, editing, copying, interpretation, and public reading were the work of a professional elite worth their literal weight in gold.
Vellum - (from the Old French Vélin, for 'calfskin') is mammal skin prepared for writing or printing on, to produce single pages, scrolls, codices or books.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Meditation Infused Medium Minds
written faith
hooked in words
rapidly writes
write your poems
straight out,
line by line,
no themes,
no plans,
complete as written
written words
written souls
infused medium minds
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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We Live in the Loneliness Of Ourselves (For Alfred Kazin- Critic)
We live in the loneliness of ourselves (For Alfred Kazin Critic)
We live in the loneliness of ourselves
We try to read
The world as our own.
But most deeply we know
We too are idiosyncracies-
Time passes
Lifetimes of meaning accumulate
But still on our own
Turning the pages
The book we have written
In our reading
Is inexplicable and unknown
Even to ourselves.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Words to Inspire
Sometimes someones words inspire us
to do things better than we do.
Sometimes we read something,
and the content suggests something
more than what was written down.
We write about what inspired us
and find we’ve gone on to greater things.
(To my good friend Francesca Johnson Who will know what I mean/12 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Words Sometimes Take On A Own Meaning
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and sometimes they are sharp and painful
as if there is much more to words
as if a kind of secret knowledge hides in them
that are sometimes something moving.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
but somehow words can at times miss things
and are sometimes dependent on feelings
as if there is much more to words
when through it all love brings a kind of bonding
and so you and I are attractive to each other.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and daily a bond develops between us,
while you become more considerable to me,
as if there is much more to words
you constantly live in my thoughts,
while love becomes real through words.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
as if there is much more to words…
poem by Gert Strydom
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When I Write These Lines
when i write these lines it is as good as
thrown paper, some words are written but
they are meant to be discarded because they have
occupied much of sadness
worn out memories
overused mumblings
they are meant to be crumpled
and thrown away
this one, this one is not meant to be kept
it is written
but meant simply to be deleted
some words are meant to be said
and be forgotten
because of pain and because they do not mean anything anymore.
goodbye lines, goodbye
take your time, there will be a little waiting
until another fool takes you in
another poet in the state of an inevitable
writer's block
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Silence Between
the silence between
words being written and read
seduces the mind to think
thoughts of creation anticipate
the blank canvas of the mind
which mirrors the open soul
calling out to listen
to the sound of pen upon paper
a mind at work
is a beautiful thing
and in writing seductive
words flow into sentence
a verse crafts itself
to be seen, felt
all in the aftermath
of the silence between
words being written
words being read
poem by Matthew Holloway
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My poems is not Poetry
My Poems are not Poetry
Poetry rhythm is essential part
Communicative act of rhythms
Where words created music
An effect on the reader’s and listener
Words beginning with the same letter
And achieve a poetically effect.
My Poems has no rhythms
For the first time I don’t know
What to say and how to show.
Many words is not my style
Let me say, I like your smile
I don’t think I should like you,
Unfortunately I do.
I'm not sure now how to write
I lost my idea how, where words
Are used in away similar
Creating Music, where you find
Languages of rhymes
I write Prose but not Poetry
Using a regular rhythm
Where vast majority
Of languages spoken and written.
I try to be a barn, the muses were believed and inspire
I try to hard without success,
you already know, I guess.
Anyhow, it doesn’t matter
Usually I do not write
Things like this, I never tried,
for the first time I don’t know
what these lines should say or show.
Allegory, metaphor equated
Meaning lie outside the narrative
Acrostic phase when read together
Alliteration words same letter for poetical effect
Satire is a form of humour
Limerick is a short humorous poem.
And Honestly, I don’t regret
Things I did and words I said.
7. January 2008
poem by Mary Wismer
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This Poem Should Have Been Written Long Ago By Someone Else
This poem should have been written long ago by someone else
They should have said what needs to be said
Clearly and yet beautifully
They should have known what to do with their words and their intimations -
But instead I old I tired old I I with the I I I always I’ing
Have to write it again-
This poem should have been written by someone else
The way I was when I was young
But even then probably it should have been written by someone else
Younger happier stronger wiser more courageous able to give and inspire others to love life more and make it more good and more beautiful
A real poet a great poet should have written this poem
And then it would be one
Even I would try not to forget.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Meaning
Why you keep
Peeping into
Boloji? !
To see if I've
Written any new
Poetry? !
I've penned a poem
On your heart…
Go and decipher it.
Read in between
The lines…
And decode the
Hidden meaning ;)
That will give you
An ‘out of the world'
Meaning…which will
Change your life…
And give your world -
A whole new meaning :)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Words
Yeats so simply stated
' Words alone are certain good. '
And to the great poet
So highly rated
I try to listen, as I should; Yet
Being an untrained novice
Such as me
With verdant hopes of much improvement
- oh that I would -
I beg to slightly differ with W. B.
And offer here my humble opinion
- if I could -
Good certainly is not words alone,
For without humanity
To read and to write
How would they ever become known?
- For without the good of people
Who of these words would care
Ever to be heard, or even shared?
No, the good does not alone from words arise,
Rather from human beings
Whose entire story
Such words do attempt to comprise.......
- Words written in this time
May even the way
To a distant future find,
But not on their own
And never alone.
For it takes people's
- hand's to write
- eye's to read
- heart and soul to understand
The purpose, and the need.
Let it here be shown
Words alone
Are not the only good,
They need human beings
To give goodness and life
To their reason and meaning
For they are merely the vehicle
By which man's true good
Is found and understood.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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When Poet's Weep
with the monsoon
came the rains
which flooded
waiting landscape
with infinite words
swift rivers of life flow
from excalibur poet's pens
water thirsty souls
with seasons monsoon
comes regeneration rains
poets take up parchment pens
weep oceans of written tears
let compassion flood hearts
battle hard inspire lost souls
with life awaited monsoon
came soul cycle of rains
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A short poem
this poem is the shortest I've written
however it may appear long
because the actual poem
is hidden somewhere far away
it is not in this website
the poem bounces off stars
it floats across the milky way
and dances with rock stars
The actual poem is so short
that in trhe English language
it would be impossible to say
because it fits so much in into a short
time frain, the meaning is compacted
into a single alien word
but in that word there is meaning
of a thousand words of praise
the poem could be analysed
for days and months and years
and after that point the true meaning would
only start to appear
so I beg you to learn this alien
langauage
read my poem carefully
for it is returning to earth
and should arrive by the time I have finished typing
luckily the alien dialect uses English letters
so you can read it
however to understand it
truely
wholey
completely
is not possible for the tiny human mind
I can hear it zinging now
it's bounced of Orions Belt
it just hit me in the fore head and it is spreading over this page
so here it is
the shortest poem
I have ever written
prepare to face it; s mastery for
it
is:
Slurplesploosh
poem by Torben Duncan
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