I am exhausted
Thoughts no longer yield to me
Language disobeys
Ideas turn their back on me
Cadence mocks incompetence.
tanka by Asma Bahrainwala (07 October 2006)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mocking Bird, Mocking Man
he is sometimes
tempted to mimic a mockingbird
that mimics him
most of the times
on top of the tree fronting
his window where he
faces the sun and moon
the mockingbird mocks him the moment he mocks it
and he in turn mocks the mockingbird that mocks him when he mocks it
both of them are bored
and have nothing good to do
they mock each other
morning noon and nigh time
bird man bird, man bird man bird
in truth the man wants to be a mockingbird
in truth the mockingbird wants to be a man
the problem is
no one is talking and no one is listening
no one wants to be himself/itself forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Stopping By The Mountainside
i am taking more time
going over it
and i probably will not
understand
what you are really trying
to tell me,
as you
have chosen the words
as carefully as
grains for seeding
in such a way that i
am at a loss at
what to say
to interpret
the images of your language
some are hazy as fog
and i am the driver of the
car that stops
for a while
so i may not fall upon a
cliff
off-road
exhausted
i get out of the car
and wait for the fog to go
and vanish
until the hills appear
as they are
and not as something else
as sister of
mist or
cloth of nakedness
yes, the things as they are
my language are no longer hands
no longer eyes even
there is no word to match
what beauty lies before
me
what truth that is never said
but this
time only felt
and unseen
because the eyes
are open.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet's Heart
A poem is like a wild rose
Your ideas bloom into something as it grows
Some your ideas flow clear and beautiful like a song
And sometimes those thoughts turn into sadness about things that go wrong
But the most important things to remember is where those ideas start.
And that is from a Poet's Heart
poem by Frank Pulver
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Meaningless
Sometimes you do things for others
never realising what it does to you.
It feels as if you’re helping them
then realize what it has done to you.
You get lost along the way
withdrawing from the world
and no longer having anything to say.
Gone is that, that nurtured you
as you turn your back away.
Your world becomes a blank page
with just one word written on it
and that word is despair.
You no longer have anyone
to talk to and share your ideas.
You recede into apologies
for nothing that you’ve done.
The comfort zone you once had
is gone never to return.
You slip into boredom that you once knew.
Your life is filled with images,
which are meaningless to you.
Your stuck in a world
that is neither happy or sad,
but which is meaningless and empty.
Your creativity has all but ebbed away
and shrunk back into the void
that once controlled your life
and looks like doing it again.
You wander through each day
devoid of the things you need
to carry your life through. It happened why you ask.
The answer is not so readily available.
Slowly you fall into loneliness
where no thoughts are written down,
sliding into an empty world
where your voice is never heard
and no voices come back to you.
The world of desolation
where you are no longer an individual,
but just another empty drone.
Your emotions have been drained away,
your feelings are now gone.
You face each day without caring
whether it will be your last.
poem by David Harris
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Incompetence
There is nothing more unattractive than incompetence
Naivety falls in the face of experience,
Ignorance is beaten by education,
Even idiocy can be overcome with patience.
But incompetence,
Incompetence is when confident blind belief meets abilities harsh reality
And we stupidly just keep on trying any way.
poem by Colm Hayes
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It's really clear to me that you can't hang onto something longer than its time. Ideas lose certain freshness, ideas have a shelf life, and sometimes they have to be replaced by other ideas.
quote by Alan Alda
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Back On The Train
When I jumped off, I had a bucket full of thoughts
When I first jumped off, I held that bucket in my hand
Ideas that would take me all around the world
I stood and watched the smoke behind the mountain curl
It took me a long time to get back on the train
Now I'm gone and I'll never look back again
I'm gone and I'll never look back at all
You know I'll never look back again
I turn my face into the howlin' wind
It took me a long time to get back on the train
See my face in the town that's flashing by
See me standing at the station in the rain
See me standing there beside the car
I left it all behind, again I'll travel far
It took me a long time to get back on the train
When I jumped off, I had a bucket full of thoughts
When I first jumped off, I held that bucket in my hand
Ideas that would take me all around the world
I stood and watched the smoke behind the mountains curl
It took me a long time to get back on the train
It took me a long time to get back on the train
It took me a long time to get back on the train
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fly To Me
Dont turn your back on me
Conceal and protect me
I need you to stop me
From reeling around
The times gonna come
When you no longer need me
But stay by my side til the sun has gone down
When I am an old man
And live by the sea
Will all your thoughts fly to me?
As much as I want you
I cant hold on to you
When will you return to your old home again?
May love lie around you
Good fortunes surround you
You know where to turn to
When you need a friend
When I am an old man
And live by the sea
Will all your thoughts fly to me?
When I am far away from the places weve known
Will all your love bring me home?
When I am an old man
And live by the sea
Will all your thoughts fly to me?
When I am far away from the places weve known
Will all your love bring me home?
Bring me home?
song performed by by Keane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ours is the age of substitutes instead of language, we have jargon instead of principles, slogans and instead of genuine ideas, bright ideas.
quote by Eric Bentley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ours is the age of substitutes: instead of language, we have jargon: instead of principles, slogans: and, instead of genuine ideas, bright ideas.
quote by Eric Bentley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Idea
An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Neither can embellishments of language be found without arrangement and expression of thoughts, nor can thoughts be made to shine without the light of language.
I think I am too interested in my own ideas to copy anyone else's, but I find that other people's imagery, the flow of language in the outside world, games with words, and ideas about relationships are all most important to me.
quote by Margaret Mahy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Could Turn Back The Hand Of Time
How did I ever let you slip away
Never knowing I'd be singing this song some day
And now I'm sinking, sinking to rise no more
Ever since you closed the door
[1] - If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then my darlin' you'd still be mine
If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then darlin' you, you'd still be mine
Funny, funny how time goes by
And blessings are missed in the wink of an eye
Why oh why oh why should one have to go on suffering
When every day I pray please come back to me
[Repeat 1]
And you had enough love for the both of us
But I, I, I did you wrong, I admit I did
But now I'm facing the rest of my life alone, whoa
[Repeat 1]
I'd never hurt you (If I could turn back)
Never do you wrong (If I could turn back)
And never leave your side (If I could turn back)
If I could turn back the hands
There'd be nothing I wouldn't do for you
(If I could turn back)
Forever honest and true to you
(If I could turn back)
If you accept me back in your heart, I love you
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
That would be my will
(If I could turn back)
Darlin' I'm begging you to take me by the hands
(If I could turn back the hands)
I'm going down, yes I am
(If I could turn back)
Down on my bended knee, yeah
(If I could turn back)
And I'm gonna be right there until you return to me
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
If I could just turn back that little clock on the wall
(If I could turn back)
Then I'd come to realize how much I love you
Love you love you love you
(If I could turn back the hands)
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Out Beyond Ideas
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense
Thoughts and ideas - (Talking through my hat)
Break and husk
thoughts and ideas that,
without reason,
I smashing them like nuts
into my head – mortar with pig iron pestle.
Lay and hatch
thoughts and ideas,
and younglings,
instead of fly,
I keep them under latch
in my head – cage of neurons,
dendrites and axons.
Knead and raise
thoughts and ideas
but let me tempted,
and without reason,
instead of bake them, I play
“of thieves and bobbies”
with bullets of dough
shot from my head – automatic gun.
Pull kernels out of
thoughts and ideas
but I put not them to spring
and hundredfold harvest to bring,
I chain them necklace
that my poor mind
who walks nomad
through my head – ballad
to put it neck
in a night with moon
and than to catch
in a fairies dance
and hungry of blue
to soar in the stars.
***
Thoughts and ideas
are shrieking through my mind
as lost migratory birds
in an autumn of rains.
Thoughts and ideas
- arrow-shaped cranes with wet wings -
fall all at once
in my head – moorland
of thistle and mud.
Bevies of ideas
and useless thoughts
surround my mind
how ravens give wheel
carrions to be
through my head - waste land
by boiling and winds.
Thoughts and ideas
go round
like a pack of wolves
with empty bellies
through my head – winter of frost,
winter of sleet
with my mind
thoroughly frozen
by fright and a biting wind.
Pick
bunches of thoughts and ideas
caressed by the sun of mind
in bacchanal vineyards
planted on encephalic hills.
I squish them
and expect to get wine
and get drunk
in my head – tavern where the smoke
knife just cut it
and air is sourbitter.
Fog of thoughts and ideas
rises from my mind
as darkness on swamps
in late autumn.
Nothing to see
not hear anything
all still is,
just the small brain
flickers in my head – gray curtain
between movement and inertia.
Slacked thoughts and ideas
are resting on benches of mind,
nothing pulling them
with hands and teeth,
I can’t them gather
at work to bring
to get something good
from my head – chaos
where it lacks a poleax
and a stump of elm.
poem by Viorel Petru Trifan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think one of the things that language poets are very involved with is getting away from conventional ideas of beauty, because those ideas contain a certain attitude toward women, certain attitudes toward sex, certain attitudes toward race, etc.
quote by Diane Wakoski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Messages will die
A message lasts no longer
Than the canvas bearing it.
A message lasts no longer
Than the language having it.
Language dying, no amount
Of saving, even in stones,
Of writings is possible.
Yet I leave my works behind.
28.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going Back To Kindergarten
Wittgenstein
went back to kindergarten
trying to figure out
how a language is learned
to know that language is born
not with a word or two
but in a cluster of sentences
like the birth of a baby
that comes not with spare parts
of hands and legs and toes
but as a whole coming out
from the womb and with a
spank from this world
cries to let you know that
it is alive and has already
some feelings and thoughts
of its own. Like us, we learn
the language of love not on
a piecemeal basis, we know
love when we are accepted
as a whole person, not as
bits and pieces and chunks
and cold cuts, but as tomato
sauce garnished with cheese
and mint and rosemary and
meatballs and salt and pepper.
Wittgenstein went back
to kindergarten
not as a kid but as a philosopher.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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