Gifted Into Web Life Screens
thoughts are born instant
upon lit mind art pages
gifted into web life screens
painted into net joy swift
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Pages Of Mind Art
thoughts are instant born
upon pages of mind art
gifted onto screens of life
painted into love joy swift
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Birth Images Etched Into Conscious Beings
thoughts are instant born
upon pages of mind art
gifted onto screens of life
painted into love joy swift
images knowing create
beauty in mind refreshes
as art embraces skill art
in appreciation we shall paint
together write birth images
etched into conscious beings
Original complete version of the poems ‘Pages Of Mind Art’, ‘Beauty In Mind Refreshes’ and ‘In Appreciation We Shall Paint’ by Terence George Craddock.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In Good Hands..
In the hands of a gifted teacher
A classroom is a magical place! ! !
In the hands of a gifted teacher
There's a smile on each child's face.
In the hands of gifted teacher Creative energy is every where.
In the hands of gifted teacher
There's a catalyst who genuinely care.
In the hands of gifted teacher Desire and wonder is awakened.
In the hands of gifted teacherEducation agenda is shaken.
In the hands of gifted teacher Self managment skills are manupulated In the hands of gifted teacherThe best of reality is modeled.
In the hands of gifted teacher Gifts and talents are refined.
In the hands of gifted teacher The desired future is designed.
AND YOR THE TEACHER GIFTED TO MY HANDS! ! ! !
poem by Maanasa Bhaskar
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Len Webster's 'The Editor
She pushes pen to paper nightly
says she loves to keep alive her diary
watches television and takes her drinks
with a Norman male
when day dawns in half-deserted streets
she rises tired and restless from her dreams
her mind turns toward the hours ahead
to subbing pages
she is the editor of the periodical
ORDER BY SUBSCRIPTION IT'S THE ONLY WAY
she lays out pages and acts as PRO
to visiting MPs
i know her still the same childlike eyes
which probed among my inmost thoughts
in an atmosphere of anticipation
many years ago
(First published in the author's collection
'Behind the Painted Veil', Outposts Publications,
Walton-on-Thames, Surrey,1972)
poem by Len Webster
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In Good Hands
In the hands of a gifted teacher
a classroom is a magical place
In the hands of a gifted teacher
There’s a smile on each child's face
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Creative Energy is Everywhere
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
There’s a Catalyst who Genuinely Cares
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Desire and Wonder is Awakened
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Educational Agenda is Shaken
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Self-Management Skills are Modeled
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Best of Reality is Bottled
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Gifts and Talents are Refined
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Willed Future is Designed
poem by Ultimate Cyan
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You Are Born
Knowledge is in need of action when you recite it from the heart,
Rote memory is required, but the limbs from the prior souls also, for you are one born.
The mothers have given birth to you, your father is godly for he is good,
Let his soul be at one with Him, the conquest of knowledge is from him though, for you are born.
The families of eternity shall bear you all along, testing your thoughts forever,
The thanks given is the superior deed, of worship, of speech, of tomorrow, for you were born.
The excellence of wisdom is so great that the Lord shall question you on wise men
And the men of wisdom reply to Him Alone, learning is on tiptoe, for it is born.
The storage of thoughts will supply good deeds enough to succeed over those in wealth,
A major event happened to be with supplication to throw, for we are all born.
Those who practice the whole number of pages need small tests,
Big examinations are like those from God, and He questions the souls of woe since we were born.
Any more thinking of the same subject needs moderate leanings, the whole of the mind
And the soul are employed, and those in illness shall never winnow since they were born.
The philosophy and scholarship best described by the discussions is little
Compared to my heart’s thought and point - to look at Hell’s volcano, ever since you were born.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Oh The Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS
Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –
What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?
I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-
Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-
Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-
Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seek Thy Death
First take a life
with a wife like thine
then take a knife
to end that life in time.
Mear rapid flick blade
instant end cut rage
swift resident blood
signals flick end rip age.
Soul doth slide
cannot abide
alongside beating heart.
Torn asunder
plunging under
doth crimson feed hunger; part?
Mear flick of blade
instant end of rage
swift resident blood
signals flick end of age.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Désolé(I'm Very Sorry)
Life led wrongly
Heart beating for all the wrong reasons
Eyes searching for all but one
One searching for none but all...
A soul whose retina has lost focus
With lenses focused on fame and glory
With nothing but bare thoughts you
write your story
To the ones mulled down
Désolé means nothing
Iris painted with shades of gray
Good is gone and bad to stay
Fences are true haven for cowards
In taking no side, all stand pleased
Life forgives this not
Désolé means nothing
Born great, living inane
Born king, living slave
Gifted, normal
Genius, unleashed
History pardons not this
Désolé means nothing
A thief, a liar, a whore, a cheat
A failure, a dope-head, a sociopath, an
outcast
Naked thoughts born benign become
malignant
You are what you think
Society forgives you not
Désolé means nothing
Alone, lost, jaded
Regrets, a little too late
Emptiness, loneliness, memories
Trees seem only for hanging
Rivers seem only for drowning
Time the maze that prepares banquets
Feeds you at the table of consequences
Time reveals all
Désolé means nothing
Love given
Love lost
Love hurt
Still love searches through dark alleys
For the one who got away
'Désolé! ' your soul screamed silently
Love hears it
Love forgives all
Désolé means everything...
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Destiny Life Leaf Pages
manuscripts we all life write
destiny life leaf pages
some leave empty pages white
others shimmer reflecting light
some smear pages with dirt
record chaos rip rub out hurt
how shall we fill manuscript pages...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Journey Into Lovesmacked Adulthood
for gifted young minds
from nurturing families
childhood years may be easy
journey through childhood
journey through teenage years
may be continuous joy ride
some gifted students
never endure problems
at school fortune smiles
therefore entry into adulthood
may come as quite a shook
adversity has taught no lessons
in a nutshell
it may be rather difficult
to study work abroad
difficult year or study
both chance variant happen
par for course life lesson
life not study
poses the problem
for gifted minds
since the gifted mind
never had much
problem with schools
thus when the gifted
are doing exactly
exactly what they want
what they absolutely love
they find no hardship in it
thus beware intensity love
fatal may be danger love
love may be a hurricane
cupid leaves lovesmacked
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Rose...
some days i gifted you a rose...
while i did not get, what it means...
and don`t know why...
but some thing inside my heart...
told me to do that, ,
and give it to you...
oh...
o my lovely rose, and my lovely passion...
o my dreamy rose, , ,
did not know some days, how lovely your meaning is...
while you are from my longing...
and from inside....
how mistaken i was in my expression..
when i not gifted you all a roses in the world..
you are my life's` rose..
as i gifted you the rose..
i gifted you to the rose...
and wish that rose gifted to me again..
my rose...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
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Pages Of My Mind
Faces from my past flicker
through the pages of my mind
along with shadowy figures
I wish I had left behind.
Old loves and new loves
smile and say hello as they pass
through the pages of my mind.
They come in quiet moments
when I am at peace with the world.
Reflecting images of times left behind.
There are no future images,
as those pages haven’t been written yet,
only ones from a distant past.
They stroll across with happy moments
written on the pages of my mind.
11 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Gifted Ticket Taken
With a gifted ticket taken,
Anyone can go to places...
With a price already paid.
With a gifted ticket taken,
It becomes easier to get away.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
One will discover it's okay...
To get onboard,
And explore the unknown.
With a gifted ticket taken,
No one is bored.
Or feel they have ignored their trials.
Or chores expected to soothe with smiles,
Upon the faces awaiting to take full credit.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
All onboard...
Are ready to tour.
With a freeing off their backs,
Attractions carried that attacked.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
All onboard...
Are never bored,
With a freeing off their backs...
And with a sigh of satisfaction.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate...
The patience,
It took...
To get that taste anyone can salivate.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate...
The patience,
It took...
To get that taste anyone can salivate.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate.
And with a gifted ticket taken,
Everyone can celebrate...
The patience,
It took...
To get that taste anyone can salivate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pages of the Mind
is your mind turning
the pages of my mind?
i heard the shuffling
of pages in the casual
and laidback corridors
of my mind and thought
about all my poems
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Youth Phoenix Supersedes CIA
what can you do?
when you promise
to try not to sleep late
but thoughts stampede
flood tissues mind
electric shocks subconscious
mind numbing erratic surges
still too many thoughts
to dilute in circuit mind
body tires more than mind
mass mind is still too fast
hot wired
into instant
spontaneous
reflex reactions
I try not to sleep late
but still too many thoughts
in the mind
the body tires
more the mind
is still too fast
waking constant
sleep walking
through nights
illusions changes
repercussions
rewriting
reshaping
dynamics
wor ld
perceptions
your middle east
will become west
democracy hack phrase
becomes real faceoff
twitter facebook
youth phoenix
supersedes CIA
founded torture
regimes rejected
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Conjugating
I conjugate the verb to be:
miracle sentences;
non-existent one moment
then coming into Being
utterly unique the next;
perhaps never before
uttered
in all of existence
before this
moment,
on this page
at this time
from this mind.
Miracle this,
shared by all of us.
I conjugate the verb Coming into Being
from Potentialities of Being
trolling for words not yet extent
having some portion of Being
but not yet born
on Poet Pages.
I conjugate the verb Now Being Born
words coupling in sentences
flowing down
forming paragraphs
couplets, rhymes,
emotional hieroglyphics,
history,
Ideas
and glifs,
and then they
are on to Being Past.
In single verbs
we lash together
all Being;
that which is Now Born on pages,
that which was written yesterday
and those word-stories
we borrow
from future sentences
yet to be born
which live only in our dreams.
We conjure all this
from that Beautiful Nothingness
where Creativity lives
where unexpectedly
these Beings
come as daytime
and night-time sprites
into life
shine as diamond-faceted
moon-beams
changing who we are
as they transit.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Painted Horse
(blackmore/gillan/glover/lord/paice)
Child on a painted horse
Streams that will run their course
Gone to a far away shore
Ooh, ooh, ah
My painted horse is weeping
Days of another kind
Frost gets a bruising vine
Why did the carpenter die
Ooh, ooh, ah
My painted horse is weeping
Sweet as a rose so fine
Peaceful as a final time
How old could the lion man cry
Ooh, ooh, ah
My painted horse is weeping
Thoughts of a winter moon
Warm in a distant room
Why did I fall asleep so soon
Ooh, ooh, ah
My painted horse is weeping
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Aches
Have you ever craved the waves of flowers perfume
That float in the garden of roses under the moon sheen loom
They come and go whence no one knows at night gloom
As spring renewed his reign in colors and in splendor bloom
Thoughts of sadness wave and sail in my mind
They come and go leaving memories of pain and agony behind
Like that keen fragrance in the garden, born on the wings of soft wind
And yet none of the flow of thoughts is soft, soothing or kind
But in the instant the thoughts of air remain
To ignite the memory I knew of laughter and of joyful pain
Of times unlike now that will not come again.
The mountains of aching thoughts the earth under heavy clouds of rain
I try to catch and subdue my mind of these many tunes
Like tears of light fallen from the forlorn moon,
Flattened, scattered and bright on a dark lagoon,
Where high reeds lull and sway by echoing duns
But my mind is dissolved under such bare
My anguish floats away, I am too timid, for who can hold
The pain of Youth, the perfume of a flower or a moon so bold?
Where one can ask the strength to dare?