Infinite Finite Plasmatic Immersion
Poetry is the plasmatic insight of the infinite
in the multiple framed realities of the finite.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry
Poetry.......
Poetry defines me
Poetry.......
A place where you be you and I'll be me.
Poetry.......
We are best friends for eternity.
My Poetry.......
Is the daughter of my emotion,
There I've said it, no need to interpret the connection.
Poetry.......
Where my pen and paper are sealed with a kiss,
So easy to write for my mind is a bliss.
Poetry.......
Poetry has multiple meanings,
An indescribable feeling when I realize others understand them.
My Poetry.......
It just comes natural to me.
My Poetry.......
Is out there, , , , , away from exile,
And style of writing is very versatile.
Poetry.......Poetry.......
P oetry.......
It speaks out to me.
poem by Anita Khelawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is
poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry
poem by Daniel Romero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plasmatic
Eat my soul
From a silverspoon
Think I need some of that
Breathing room
Do you hear
The ringing in my ear
Am I the only one
Who can make myself
Disappear
Plasmatic
What is wrong when your
Ego is a rose in bloom
Plasmatic
All I know is
Ego is a room without a view
Fed up of repeating myself
You are looking for something I haven't got
Fed ex dreams when things are too slow
Only let you know what you need to know
Now is the time
For you and me
song performed by by Zeromancer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Uneasy Psyche
Of the uneasy psyche,
I have longed to see my wife;
But love and disappointment had sent me into the bush.
Of the uneasy psyche,
This is the exploration of the infinite repercussions;
Like our actions against the finite possibilities!
Of the uneasy psyche,
I called and she was not at home;
Of the uneasy psyche,
I looked and i could not find her;
So i took up my pen into writing,
Like a fisherman with his net.
Of a written message with sensitivity and insight,
But do i have to stifle into memories? !
What uneasy psyche when,
I cannot find my wife;
Oh no! ! Who has seen her?
Please, don't let the habitual ennui shatter our love;
When you can easily put away the past.
Of our actions against the finite possibilities,
Of our hopes and dreams;
Like a fisherman's hope when he draws his net.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth Resides Not In The World But With God
Insight beyond opinion
facts knowledge true
or false is revealed time
corrective realities
or direct or indirect
revelation from God?
Where is truth?
Truth resides
not in the world
but with God.
Only God knows
ultimate truth
reveals truth
stripping away
plywood mask
multiple layers
thin layers
compressed
glued together
at right angles
are laid layers
stage props
falsehoods
stripped away
world shadows
only time when
as divine God
sees deems fit.
None have absolute
insight into truth
beyond plans
falsehoods
manipulations
of plywood present
world system
of greed of state
government
global manipulation
of facts truth
except when God
reveals such truth
to any omnipotent
omnipresent
omnibenevolent
omniscient God
may choose.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Age Is?
differing perceptions
multiple realities
entropy encounters
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm not really quiet or shy. Ask any of my friends! But I always ground my poetry in life itself. Poetry is an art of language, though, so I am always aware of every word's meaning, or multiple meanings.
quote by Anne Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry Today
POETRY TODAY
Billions and trillions and zillions of words
Infinite infinite infinite unending ongoing unending infinite
Words and words and words.
And one small reader
Alone in the night
With a half- asleep mind
And a longing
For a bit of beauty,
And inspiration.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
quote by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our knowledge can only be finite, while our ignorance must necessarily be infinite.
quote by Karl Popper
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Think of something finite molded into the infinite, and you think of man.
quote by Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith is an act of a finite being who is grasped by, and turned to, the infinite.
quote by Paul Tillich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thus it is necessary to commence from an inescapable duality: the finite is not the infinite.
quote by Hans Urs von Balthasar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God kisses the finite in his love and man the infinite.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Civilization is the process of reducing the infinite to the finite.
quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Infinite growth of material consumption in a finite world is an impossibility.
quote by E.F. Schumacher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Language makes infinite use of finite media.
quote by Karl Wilhelm Von Humboldt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dont Write Poetry!
i dont write poetry...
i sweat poetry, i drink poetry,
i breathe poetry, i make love to poetry,
i fight poetry, i eat poetry,
i bleed poetry, i crap poetry...
too often i betray poetry,
sometimes i dropp poetry.
once i tripped over poetry,
got angry and kicked poetry.
i rocked poetry on a sleepless night,
i buried poetry on the hill...
i lived poetry, for i am poetry...
no, i dont write poetry,
but poetry writes me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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