We Poets are Farmers Still
We poets are farmers still,
ploughing our mind in the invisible field,
whenever the mind makes the pen wield.
Sowing the seeds of emotion,
in the field of melancholy,
we reap the expression of joy
with our hearts happy and merry.
Gardeners we are to our core,
as we are happy to see our words bloom
amidst the reverberation of “Encores”.
Idioms, our fertilizers,
simile and metaphors, the growth enhancers.
The monsoon, the joy of spring,
when in the winds of expression,
our joy swings.
Words bearing a new look,
publicity reaping the best
out of our joyous moods.
Our alert mind, the scare crow,
driving the birds of plagiarism away,
helps the expression to bloom and grow.
Again we wait for the next showers,
hoping this time, the day will be ours.
We then sow the time awaited seeds of expression,
with the waves of time, the blooming showers.
Their timed sprout is now,
when you lovers of art,
read it aloud and feel it in your heart.
poem by Dr. Sandeep Kumar Kar
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Related quotes
Man With No Expression
There's a man I know with no expression no not none at all
Have you ever ridden horses through a rainstorm
or led a lion through a busy street bazaar
There are many things I'd like to turn you on to
but somehow I feel you're safer where you are
If you're looking for examples to refer to
take a look around yourself I'm sure you'll find
there are many things to make your life much brighter
and I'd bet there's many more inside your mind
There's a man I know with no expression no not none at all
There's a man I know with no expression no not none at all
But I've never seen this man laughing
and come to think of it I've never seen him cry
But I might by sitting hear him singing
By and by he'll stop and sigh
he'll feel a breeze and then begin to freeze
as he thinks goodbye
Have you ever ridden horses through a rainstorm
or led a lion through a busy street bazaar
There are many things I'd like to turn you on to
but somehow I feel you're safer where you are
There's a man I know with no expression no not none at all
There's a man with no expression
man with no expression
man with no expression
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without Expression
Written by: Terry Reid 1968
Have you ever ridden horses through a rainstorm?
Or a lion through a busy street bazarre?
There are many things I'd love to turn you on to
But somehow I feel they're safer where they are
Yes, there's a man I know
With no expression
He's got none at all
Yes, there's a man that I know
With no expression, darling
He's got none at all
Well, some people are inbound with infatuation
And some others spill depression as the law
From one's mother getting at no imagination
So beware then, maybe sin is at your door
Yes, there's a man that I know
With no expression
He's got none at all
Yes, there's a man I know
With no expression
He's got none at all
But you may never, never
See this man laughing
Come to think of it,
I've never seen him cry
But he might be sitting
And you hear him singing
And by and by he'll stop and sigh
Before his voice would even begin to speak
And he'd just cry
Yes, There's a man I know
With no expression, darling
He's got none at all
Yes, There's a man that I know
With no expression
He's got none at all
Have you ever, ever ridden horses through a rainstorm?
Or a lion through a busy street bazarre?
There are many things I'd love to turn you on to
But somehow I feel they're safer where they are
Yes, There's a man that I know
With no expression
He's got none at all
There's a man that I know
With no expression
He's got none at all
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Words
the art of expression
is what my words are penned down upon
the will of wisdom
and the essence of freedom
to bounce like a king kong
on the ping pong
glad or sad, is from within each or any
stanza of my words
from the top of my head
to the deep end of the membrane under my melanin skin
to the sensory nerves of my brain
coiled upon an ancient pane
my words,
that which mirrors my sense of thought and feeling,
that with an ancestor
that which the blood of my people
was shed for; just so simple
but my words are royal
because ‘am loyal
like an induna
and vocal
to usher-in a focal
point of the meaning of my words.
my needs
and deeds
have a lord
on board
to code my words
and shield my soul from the imp’s sword.
my words are so very simple
to understand
and overstand
‘t was my words
that kept the birds
away from the heads
of my corn
for i was born
and sworn
to live a life upon
my words are so very easy to grasp
the fewer that discern
the nobler i become
I need not to wonder
and ponder
over yonder
for such is unknown to you
and therefore you have no knowledge of me
nor are you, about my words
yes! my words is what i like
to write
for i write
what i like
to strike
a balance between
the psyche
and the mic
such is my words,
the art of penning down what is from
the mind
and rewind
to remind
my words to decide
my words
such is my words,
the art of expression
against deception
but inception
and intersection
of my words
i now tell you that
my words are the words from the art
that which i chat
to match what my heart
tells me; roger that
the art of expressing the knack of expression; my words!
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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I loathe the expression "What makes him tick." It is the American mind, looking for simple and singular solution, that uses the foolish expression. A person not only ticks, he also chimes and strikes the hour, falls and breaks and has to be put together again, and sometimes stops like an electric clock in a thunderstorm.
quote by James Thurber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Home With My Writing
how often do i have to read
other people's work hoping that i may soon hone mine
and get
the admiration of other writers?
that is a long time ago and i guess
i have changed
whether admired or not we are all writers in our own ways
it is just a matter of self-expression
a way of telling those who will be left here that once we were here and we have written a lot, a legacy in words, that we are the ideas of our own time,
and time perhaps is glad about it
how we wrote and what we wrote for and whom
it's perfectly nice living life at your own pace
saying the words you want to say and leaving everything for the rest to see and judge
so to say, i am finally at home with my own words and style.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ah, The Unexpressed!
what use of
veiled metaphors,
can human experience
can human emotions
ever come close
to any known expression?
when an unbridgeable gap
forever persists between
the cup and the lip
tell me, how much is still left
unsaid in word or image
ah, how unique
is the expression
imprisoned behind
the expressed...!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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When You Grieve
when you grieve upon the death of your beloved
you only grieve upon yourself
if you only try to look around you
they do not believe in the sorrow of your grieving
the birds still play with their wings and sing
their fledgelings take a bath in the fountains
and preoccupies themselves with the art of flying
the flowers still bloom and leaves greener as ever
the seeds sprout the twigs grow another inch
the trees still look for the rays of the sun
the sea remain faithful to the accommodation of the waves
the winds still blow the sails of ships that arrive and leave the port
the seagulls keep their gaze on the school of fish
the fishermen keep watch for the spot to throw their nets
the children on the beach play
as their mothers watch with glee
do not be overwhelmed with what you feel
soon the sad feelings on fleets
shall flee as flitting as they must be
take your time watch the world in locomotion
prepare your heart, i know, i wait, for your emotion.
for soon, it must beat for me, to you i pray.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Expresionless Expression
EXPRESIONLESS EXPRESSION
esspeecee …30.01.96.
Sky with million starry eyes
Showers stare: Expressionless.
I stare by my psychic eyes
Discover me too: Expressionless.
Sky with million dew drops
Try to soothe my in-built grief.
My grief:
So moistureless,
So deep
Fails to make a sodden trip.
Vast universe stares: Expressionlessly
Infinite sky stares: Expressionlessly
Amidst queues of
Expressionless’
I enjoy of being: Expressionless
Thro’ futile expression.
Copyright reserved by the Author
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Field Of Opportunity
Ive been wrong before
And Ill be there again
I dont have any answers my friend
Just this pile of old questions
My memory left me here
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
Im going back to my house
But Im not goin now
Its too early to be leaving here, somehow
Let me bore you with this story
How my lover let me down
While I borrow seeds of sadness
From the ground.
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
There aint no way of telling
Where these seeds will rise or when
Ill just wait around til springtime
And then, Ill find a friend
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
When Im all done cultivatin
Ill be rockin on the porch
Tryin to picture you and where you are
And therell be no hesitatin
When cupid lights the torch
With those headlights comin down the hill
Between the stars.
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
There aint no way of telling
Where these seeds will rise or when
Ill just wait around til springtime
And then, Ill find a friend
In the field of opportunity
Its plowin time again.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
God please keep the happy
People always happy
And let the Spring season
Of joy pass by smoothly
God don't let the happy
People see her in tears
Since they overlook her
And want to live in cheers
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
poem by Asif Andalib
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Praise Up
Keep on praising, keep on praising
Praise up praise up
Praise up your mind to find a way to live
Keep on praising, keep on praising, keep on praising
Praise up all you people living in your fantasy
Praise up all you people trapped in mental captivity
Gonna free your mind, gonna free your mind
Right now with this feeling, feeling
Keep on praising, keep on praising
Praise up, praise up
Praise up your mind to a fine fine way to live
Keep on praising, keep on praising, keep on praising
Its your expression, its your expression
Its your expression that is leading me to see
Open up your eyes, this aint no compromise
Praise up on lord with this feeling right now
Oh lord what a feeling
Keep on praising, keep on praising
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who are These….
Sowing seeds, they go
Yes, sowing seeds they go
Seeds of separation, dissention
Seeds of wrath, hatred and lies
Seeds of discontent, envy
Ego, fanaticism, jealousy
Seeds of discrimination too
Yes, sowing seeds they go
Who are these, who go sowing!
Diligently from street to street
Sweet coating their hatred, bitterness
Hunger for power and dividing mind
In words so bombastic and loud
Wrapped so charmingly within
A thousand promises all false.
The elders dream of resurrection
Of Nehru, Gandhi and Patel of old
The younger ones fantasize
A new Messiah will be born
The ones in between follow the rut
Just close their eyes vote
And go about their work
Knowing at end whosoever rules
Prices will hike, Power electric will hide
Water contaminated or polluted be
Roads in disrepair always will remain
Taxes will always break our backs
And the system will never change!
poem by Angelina Pandian
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Sonnet: The Flower’s No More
A flower rare grew ’midst the wild flowers,
And had such beauty, words can never tell!
Last year, ’twas born in July-end showers;
This July rain became its fast death knell.
The flower will not grow here-aft again!
No more its sweet perfume shall emanate;
And while alive, this land always did gain;
Some persons didn’t allow it pollinate.
The flower’s dead and none can resurrect!
The time was short for seeds to generate;
But all the time, it stood with grace- Erect!
And gained a place in hearts that venerate.
The flower will not bloom herein again!
Ill-luck had smiled, denying all, its reign.
poem by John Celes
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The music is a personal expression, like art. It is something that you like doing that comes from within, and is an expression that comes from God. That is why artists are beautiful and why people who copy are not really artistic.
quote by Michael Schenker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Martial art is a form of expression, an expression from your inner self to your hands and legs.
quote by Donnie Yen
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As a matter of fact is an expression that precedes many an expression that isn't.
quote by Laurence J. Peter
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A style is not a matter of camera angles or fancy footwork, it's an expression, an accurate expression of your particular opinion.
quote by Karel Reisz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lines And Tied Ends
Lines they say
Go on for, forever and a day
When I was but a youth I would say ok
But not today
For an expression comes to mind... how fey
For with this expression I must inveigh
For I have heard 'This is the end of the line'
But this defies logic and math
Maybe the end of a path
But not a line
Interesting it would take some time
To understand this, so I use this concept in a rhyme
This rhyme baleful in nature and maybe vile
Ugly like bile
Yet I need to tell
This story to stay well
The ends are tied, they are done, the ends are tied
Those parts of me have already partialy died
This is the end of the line, it will end
This is all there is
It's over my dear, my heart it seems, I will have to mend
Though the end is not mine
Though it seems
It is from you, you will cause it, no matter how fine
You will be the one to say the word 'no'
And then after that answer
I will never be the same, I'll die suddenly as if from a once dormant cancer
I promise you this end will be the halcyon end, the sleep i desired
poem by David Knox
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Sun Showers
Arthur freed / nacio herb brown
Sun showers
Never mind the rain
The sun will shine again
Through sun showers
In a little while
They sky above will srnile
Like luster that follows your kiss
Dark clouds of sorrow
Will soon be a sunny tomorrow
While sun flowers
Raise their happy eyes
Up to the flaming skies
Then sun showers
Leave us as they follow
Rainbows in our hearts
The gray skies soon will clear
My dear
While sun showers are here
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry is of imagination.
Poetry is an imaginary expression-
An expression of thoughts or emotions.
It must be in style and rhythmic flow.
It must kindle readers’ imagination.
13.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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