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Subtle, clever brain, wiser than I am,
by what devious means do you contrive
to remain idle? Teach me, O master.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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African Comb
You seem to be wiser than the size of your shoes,
But the wind will come and blow you away;
And one day will need an injection from the Doctor like,
What i am going through over here.
From the coast of Ghana and,
Of the flowers of love to share with you;
But do let the African Comb teach us all.
You are wiser than the size of your shoes but,
Let the African Comb teach you at times;
For i am very real towards your love and,
You need the flower pot of love from me.
I have the cocoa pods and,
You have the valley to dry up my mind;
But the rhythm of love will find a way to teach you!
For the wax will melt before the heat of the rod.
By the fruits of your love you shall be known and,
By the sweet of your kiss you shall lead me on;
But the style of this muse is like a Zulu Man from South Africa!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Contemplative Sentry
When all night long a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains,
That is, assuming that he's got any.
Though never nurtured in the lap
Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
I am an intellectual chap,
And think of things that would astonish you.
I often think it's comical
How Nature always does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
When in that house M.P.'s divide,
If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,
They've got to leave that brain outside,
And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
But then the prospect of a lot
Of statesmen, all in close proximity,
A-thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity.
Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lal
That Nature wisely does contrive
That every boy and every gal,
That's born into the world alive,
Is either a little Liberal,
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Black Math
Dont you think that Im bound to react now?
My fingers definitely turning to black now
Maybe Ill put my live on ice
And teach myself, maybe thatll be nice
My books are sitting at the top of the stack now
The longer words are really breaking my back now
Maybe Ill learn to understand
Drawing a square with a pencil in hand
Mathematically turning the page
Unequivocally showing my age
Im practically center stage
Undeniably earning your wage
Maybe Ill put my live on ice
And teach myself, maybe thatll be nice
Listen master can I ask you a question
Is it the fingers, or the brain
That youre teaching this lesson?
Maybe Ill put my live on ice
And teach myself, maybe thatll be nice
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Peaks
In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.
'O Master that movest the wind with a finger,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Grant that we may run swiftly across the world
To huddle in worship at Thy feet.'
In the morning
A noise of men at work came the clear blue miles,
And the little black cities were apparent.
'O Master that knowest the meaning of raindrops,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Give voice to us, we pray, O Lord,
That we may sing Thy goodness to the sun.'
In the evening
The far valleys were sprinkled with tiny lights.
'O Master,
Thou that knowest the value of kings and birds,
Thou hast made us humble, idle futile peaks.
Thou only needest eternal patience;
We bow to Thy wisdom, O Lord -
Humble, idle, futile peaks.'
In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full charactered with lasting memory,
Which shall above that idle rank remain,
Beyond all date, even to eternity:
Or, at the least, so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist;
Till each to razed oblivion yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be missed.
That poor retention could not so much hold,
Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To trust those tables that receive thee more:
To keep an adjunct to remember thee
Were to import forgetfulness in me.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet On Famous And Familiar Sonnets And Experiences
(With much help from Robert Good, William Shakespeare,
John Milton, and little Catherine Schwartz)
Shall I compare her to a summer play?
She is too clever, too devious, too subtle, too dark:
Her lies are rare, but then she paves the way
Beyond the summer's sway, within the jejune park
Where all souls' aspiration to true nobility
Obliges Statues in the Frieze of Death
And when this pantomime and Panama of Panorama Fails,
"I'll never speak to you agayne" -- or waste her panting breath.
When I but think of how her years are spent
Deadening that one talent which -- for woman is --
Death or paralysis, denied: nature's intent
That each girl be a mother -- whether or not she is
Or has become a lawful wife or bride
-- 0 Alma Magna Mater, deathless the living death of pride.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full charactered with lasting memory,
Which shall above that idle rank remain
Beyond all date even to eternity—
Or at the least, so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist;
Till each to razed oblivion yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be missed.
That poor retention could not so much hold,
Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To trust those tables that receive thee more.
To keep an adjunct to remember thee
Were to import forgetfulness in me.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Meaning Of War
Meaning of war
War means bombing
War means explosions
War means fire
War means destruction
War means hating
War means mutilation
War means killing
War means tears
War means guns
War means loss
War means not of who is right
War means not of who is wrong
War means only of whom is left
poem by Oscar Montano
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Brie Carter
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
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In the night
In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.
"O Master that movest the wind with a finger,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Grant that we may run swiftly across the world
To huddle in worship at Thy feet."
In the morning
A noise of men at work came the clear blue miles,
And the little black cities were apparent.
"O Master that knowest the meaning of raindrops,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Give voice to us, we pray, O Lord,
That we may sing Thy goodness to the sun."
In the evening
The far valleys were sprinkled with tiny lights.
"O Master,
Thou that knowest the value of kings and birds,
Thou hast made us humble, idle futile peaks.
Thou only needest eternal patience;
We bow to Thy wisdom, O Lord --
Humble, idle, futile peaks."
In the night
Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clever father, clever daughter; clever mother, clever son.
Who Is The Master?
When you first light up a fag
It doesn’t taste too good
But you will be its master yet
Indeed you will, you should
For you must be so hip and cool
Like all the other smokers
They are smart and clever people
Not like those other jokers
They’re so smart that they can draw
A fag between their lips
And blow out smoke so easily
While making witty quips
The smoke drawn deeply from the fag
Is noxious, there’s no doubt
And by sheer logic, must be true
It’s noxious what’s blown out
A minor detail, not your concern
What’s crucial’s how you look
You’ve got to breathe it in and out
And not look like you’re crook
Once you can do that, you are like them
That cool and clever crowd
At last, you’ve made it to their world
And you can shout out loud
I can smoke without a choke
I have become its master
But wait a second, I have found
That it became mine faster
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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Lord of the Flies
Oh Master my Master
Oh where have you been
I wallowed in filth and
I drowned in sin
Oh Master my Master
It's my rotten luck
To swim in the decay
And swallow the muck
Oh Master my Master
I stand in the fires
Surrounded by murderers
Thieves, cheaters, and liars
Oh Master my Master
the earth has turned red
Fluid with blood
Of the recently dead
Oh Master my Master
What's wrong with the world
The blackness unfolds
Like a flag that's unfurled
Oh Master my Master
You ignore my cries
And now I'm quite sure
You're the Lord of the Flies
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Sonnet: Love Unchanged
’Tis good that you are whatever you are;
’Tis good that you are not something different;
’Tis good that you are hail, hearty so far;
’Tis good that you aren’t very dependent.
’Tis wiser not think of yesteryears;
’Tis wiser not to dream of love then missed;
’Tis wiser not to have all open ears;
’Tis wise to remain even one unkiss’d!
For love resurrected is love reborn;
And love reborn is one unrealistic;
And love unreal can’t our hearts adorn;
And love that can’t adorn hearts is mystic!
’Tis good that things had happened in this way;
’Tis good that love has stood the tests of day.
poem by John Celes
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Statement Crisis
Do we have statement crisis?
So much stress and word emphasis,
Surely to deepen in days to come,
Not always you will find welcome,
Careful preparation and final statement,
Seconds after sorry and lament,
Asking excuse for “no more comment”
Is it the way to offer treatment?
Immediately rise and quick to react,
Retracing steps and fails to act,
What is worrying as matter of fact?
Lack of will power or clever tact,
We will teach a lesson and not sit idle,
Never have we threatened or affairs meddle,
Right path on which to paddle,
Showing apathy later on and not able,
No one can force or exert pressure,
Words may be heavy but we always assure,
Not knowing what we are speaking for sure,
This is lacuna, for which we have no cure,
We have freedom of speech,
No one should come and teach,
No need for any more preach,
We always disregard and breach,
Statement no crisis for humble submission,
After all doesn’t amount guilt admission,
Sometimes tongue may slip as do the season,
No cause of worry for any reasons
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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As A Perfume
As a perfume doth remain
In the folds where it hath lain,
So the thought of you, remaining
Deeply folded in my brain,
Will not leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
Other thoughts may come and go,
Other moments I may know
That shall waft me, in their going,
As a breath blown to and fro,
Fragrant memories: fragrant memories
Come and go.
Only thoughts of you remain
In my heart where they have lain,
Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining,
A hid sweetness, in my brain.
Others leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
poem by Arthur Symons
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You Remain
As a perfume doth remain
In the folds where it hath lain,
So the thought of you, remaining
Deeply folded in my brain,
Will not leave me; all things leave me -
You remain.
Other thoughts may come and go,
Other moments I may know
That shall waft me, in their going,
As a breath blown to and fro,
Fragrant memories; fragrant memories
Come and go.
Only thoughts of you remain
In my heart where they have lain,
Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining,
A hid sweetness, in my brain.
Others leave me; all things leave me -
You remain.
poem by Arthur Symons
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The Master Spoke.
Why is the world here today?
The Master Spoke.
Why are we sinners, like sheep gone astray?
The Master Spoke.
Why all this toil, no comfort of Eden,
Since man didn't obey?
The Master Spoke.
Why work the dust of the ground, from whence we came,
And eat 'By the sweat of our brow? '
The Master Spoke.
Why do we, naturally,
Posess the desire to before,
God, want to worship and adore?
The Master Spoke.
Why is Jesus glorified,
And why, for sinners, did he die?
The Master Spoke.
Why shall God return again,
To take away Isreal, His bride?
Why me, a sinner, justified?
The Master Spoke.
Why will there be Revelations, wars,
And roomers of wars,
Nearing the End Times?
The Master Spoke.
Why is God an eternal Being,
But the world shall be no more?
The Master Spoke.
Why is it, that when a man speaks,
His words blow away
As kernals of grain,
And yet, when God speaks, his Word is as rock,
Forever to remain?
The Master Spoke -
'Heaven and Earth shall pass away,
But my words shall never pass away.'
Why do these things occur,
And as it were,
The penalty of sin man did not have to pay?
The Master Spoke -
'For God so loved the world,
That he gave his only Son,
That whoever believes in him
Shall not perish,
But have the gift of eternal life.
Why?
The Master Spoke.
'Go now! Help the needy,
And the weak!
Save hearts that are broken! '
Hurry, now!
The Master has Spoken.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Chess is a foolish expedient for making idle people believe they are doing something very clever when they are only wasting their time.
quote by George Bernard Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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