Previously Written?
creative soul quite out of sorts
are you really source defined
remembered by what you have written?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Creative Soul Quite Out Of Sorts
creative soul quite out of sorts
are you really source defined
by what you have done?
remembered by what you have written?
does not forest, lakes, rivers,
windswept beaches, ocean tides,
ebb flow in kiwi artistic souls?
do you not hunger starve feel
beginnings are glory dawn chorus
with an eternal day sun bean streams
birth begging come write me?
past writes be they haka or poi songs
lilting lullaby soft night whispered blessings
stretching dark far back to jaw thigh bones
stretch dark far back to ancestor jaw thigh bones
ancestor blessings running sleeping
dream running in waking
eye infant sleep listening...
eye infant ancient sleep listening...
artistic walking time lines
artistic walking seed own time lines
hooks fishing catch spirit minds...
wear colour cloak rainbow bird feathers...
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Has Remembered Me
Written by: myles goodwyn
Love wont remember me
Its been so long
And thats what Ive told myself
But you proved me wrong
You opened up my eyes
And helped me to see
That love has a way of finding
Those in need
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered, love has remembered me
I felt so all alone
And at times afraid
That love had foresaken me
It just seemed that way
Then you walked into my life
And you turned my whole world around
Ours is a true love
It cant be found
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered, love has remembered me
Love wont remember me
Its been so long
And thats what Ive told myself
But you proved me wrong
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
It seems too long since weve been together
Love has remembered me (love has remembered)
Its been so long, seemingly forever
Love has remembered
Love has remembered
Love has remembered
(love has remembered)
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Source Of Confort
God is a source of energy
God is a source of light
God is a source of love
God is a source of peace
God is a source of comfort
God is a source of hope
God is a source of freedom
God is a source of praise
poem by Aldo Kraas
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For me archaeology is not a source of illustrations for written texts, but an independent source of historical information, with no less value and importance, sometimes more importance, that the written sources.
quote by Michael I. Rostovtzeff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0222 Return to the Golden Age
We are like salmon, swimming back upstream:
leaping against waterfalls that thwart,
cut and bruised; but strong; our only dream
return to source; no thought save source of thought;
and in that fight, our iron age turns to bronze,
and we to heroes, in a war of soul,
as nature seeks the nature it had once;
though wholly lost, remembering the whole.
We silver salmon, sparkling as the sun
shines on our fierce and loving enterprise:
to rear our children where the world is one;
the source remembered, nature's greatest prize.
The golden age is ageless in its gleam
and we, like salmon, swimming back upstream.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dance of Time
every of the years that has sank
into the treasured porcelain
makes a beautiful, authentic signature
that only time can create
every second walks away
leaving traces of its shadows
characteristics that can send
antique collectors into a craze
over the precise subtle dance of time
they are worth more than diamonds
the seasoned never would go wrong
time too has tiptoed their way into their mind
second by second, to familiarise them
with the mersmering steps each tick makes
second poem - Creative Source
-----------
the creative source
stores all the secrets
we would love to know
of the future of the universe
how flowers would go a step
further to colour themselves
the man to move beyond time
to wherever they would love to be
and unveil what is instore for all
in the sky, the sea and the realms
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Walking Seed Own Time Lines
creative soul quite out of sorts
are you really source defined
by what you past have done?
remembered by what you have written?
does not forest, lakes, rivers,
windswept beaches, ocean tides,
ebb flow in kiwi artistic souls?
do you not hunger starve feel
beginnings are glory dawn chorus
with an eternal day sun bean streams
birth begging come write me?
past writes be they haka or poi songs
lilting lullaby soft night whispered blessings
stretching dark far back to jaw thigh bones
stretch dark far back to ancestor jaw thigh bones
ancestor blessings running sleeping
dream running in waking
eye infant sleep listening...
eye infant ancient sleep listening...
artistic walking time lines
artistic walking seed own time lines
hooks fishing catch spirit minds
wear colour cloak rainbow bird feathers...
to be an artist and deny art
is to deny self decades
may be devoted invested
into deep wound near fever social causes
delving into tunnels lighting candles
holding lamps high warming other hands
but art denied crucifies poetic souls
song of self is wine sung trodden in life caverns
art is not mainstream commercials remix copycat dance routines
gaga sales pitch rip offs
never climb stairways
to heaven sung unique songs
are tuned in distempered souls
mānuka honey is kiwi wild
wind clover flax fibre twist plait knot
ropes pull waka
rata season scarlet
letter tui bellbird chant
forest call
dawn chorus
awake spirits
melody songs
kauri earth rooted
sky stand poet
chant flies
spindle poet taxes
starvation soul
screaming write
visions boil in own blood cells
eyes boil flay flesh in vision quests
time spins fast
in seer sight
ebb tide beaches siren whales
water birth born to cry ocean songs
communicative across vast
surge arena Pacific ocean songs
mist child of Aotearoa
ride wide current ocean tides
to tip of embracing Cape Reinga
Pohutukawa
tree is rest eternal spirit
step home waiting...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Soul Light Era
On August of 2003
a major shift happened to humanity.
Entering the Era of Soul Light,
The soul will lead humanity and set it right.
Mind over matter will still have truth at its core,
But the soul will take precedence even more.
For the soul’s wisdom has the solution based from
The source,
Helping the planet stay on course.
Read Soul Wisdom by dr. Zhi Gang Sha,
He is an acclaimed Soul Master who spread his message wide,
Transforming the planet one person at a time.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on Aug.9,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzaechevalier.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Failure and its accompanying misery is for the artist his most vital source of creative energy.
quote by Montgomery Clift
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Few Poems Are Remembered
FEW POEMS ARE REMEMBERED
Few poems are remembered -
Few poems are ever really known-
Few poems are chosen -
Few poems make us want to return to them again and again-
Out of thousands written every day
Perhaps one poem in a decade
Perhaps less.
This is not the poem.
One can write a lifetime
Without ever writing one such poem.
Most of us never write the poem
And most of us are not remembered either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The creative and the receptive
To sing is creative; to listen is receptive.
To play is creative; to watch is receptive.
To write is creative; to read is receptive.
In sex, man is creative and woman, receptive.
21.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Will The Words Come Back?
Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?
13 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Creative Heart
Where is a creative heart in grave,
all we pray for is acheivement,
ignoring our creative attitude and pure
heart, we keep praying yet our heart are creative in all areas,
can a creative heart be seen by a faded heart?
Indeed no heart is weak.
poem by Senator alufalism
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The Scroll The Book Of Life
time is the fourth dimension
the acid test the touchstone;
by which you may be known
remembered revered esteemed
loathed or forgotten passing
leaving behind less than a ripple;
on the water traceless without
a whisper of life presence left
to mark your mirrorless life passage
more sinned against than sinning;
nothing of note to damn your soul
or leave your name remembered
yet your name may be safely written
in the scroll the book of life to be read;
out angelic with the blessed upon a
great reconciled judgement day dawned
upon that day the great and the small
will stand before a throne for this;
second resurrection for the first was
for those executed who spoke about God
Revelation 20: 4-12.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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With Guilt They Accept
He is a creative writer to his readers
As he borrows from the source unknown to them.
A music composer is too like that.
They with guilt accept the credit that comes.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I have written on all sorts of subjects... yet I have no enemies; except indeed all the Whigs, all the Tories, and all the Christians.
quote by David Hume
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama Mary the wishing mother
your name echo to the outmost deepest soul
in pour heart remembered the pain and suffering
of a mother waiting her son to die, in a most
cruel form of death in the human history, walking
in the Calvary carrying the pole that stand and
witness by thousand of men and million of angels
in heaven
as the prophet prophesied, Jesus the Christ
will die in witness to the living God that beyond our
human lives, someone is the Father, Allah, the
Adonia, the source of everything that created in the
universe, the giver the compassionate healer of
life we breath
a mother and a consoler of a son, is not only
physical, emotional psychological and self
castration, but a inner self rejection of life, deep that
only our soul can feel the tremendous sacred blade
of sorrow, and the scars it takes would be through
eternity
leaving the wound of her soul of Mama Mary,
brings the immortality of memories of her soul until
forever, this pain is always be remembered every
moment when each soul is rejected to the path of
holiness, her constant wish is that every tears
wishes the faithful children, to be with her in the
right highway of sacredness
the tears and the wish to be in the paradise is
always open, for Mama Mary with open heart and
hands will leads us to eternity, where each one of
her children will be with her in the place, where the
Father prepare for us.
(dedicated to Mama Maria in her birthday 09-08-08)
poem by Antonio Liao
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Source Of Infection
Hey!
Alright!
Whoo! how bout cha now,
Come on
Oh yeah!
Dig it!
Thats right.
Is everybody ready?
Lets go!
Up and down, around and round
In and out
Crank it, blow out
Ouch
Help me
Flip on over
Oh baby, you know what I like
She choked the chain, she got the hook
Cant get away
Fever starts to climb, reaching 105 (degrees)
I think I need a shot of your love
Love, love is the source
Love, love is the source of infection
Hey eddie
Say what
Thats what Im talkin about
Wax it down now
Ready, set, go!
Love, love is the source
Love, love is the source
Love, love, love, love is the source
Love, love is the source
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You may use different sorts of sentences and illustrations before different sorts of audiences, but you don't -- if you are wise -- talk down to any audience.
quote by Norman Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mankind will not believe it,
Mankind will not believe it,
Mankind will not believe it when the Glory come's,
The Image is defined and we are all free,
Upon the Image Iam not losing that Taste of the Infinite,
Meaning is all Clear and Image well defined,
Mankind will not believe it when they see the Sign of God,
His Love is the Liberating a Soul and a Remedy,
Teach me Grace that I may Flow with these Words,
When the Kingdom of God hast come Mankind will not believe it since they all be Commiting Felonies.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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