We read frequently if unknowingly, in quest of a mind more original than our own.
quote by Harold Bloom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Poem Is An Original
No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.
Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.
Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.
Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.
Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.
So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.
wrote 2-2-07
Originally Yours
challenged to be
original
i quit. i am not
original i am a xerox
copy of
another mind
i am a duplicate
of another carbon
copy
i am an imprint
of another zealousness
i use other people's words
i listen to
every syllable
and they all stay
inside my heart
like decanted
mass from acetic acid
from coconut
wine.
i am not original
i look at myself
in the mirror
i am not original
but i put on a smile
i am too
one kind of
a handsome
copycat.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Getting to Know You
Poetry pretty much mirrors
Different stages and places
In one’s life
It’s given away… in what you say
In your sense
of peace or strife
Your words describe you…
They strip from your soul
The shrouds and lay bare…
Your true thoughts, your ambitions
Your insights, your inhibitions
You perhaps unknowingly share
It’s a venting perhaps…
A release from the restraints…
Of cold hard reality
In some it’s of hope
In others of complaints
And in others still…of finality
In others it’s a cry for validation
A way of saying “I’m me…
I’m still here! ”
In others It’s a cry of repudiation
Saying “listen to me now,
But don’t come near! ”
When I read a poem
I see the person
Behind the prose
And that I see…
this person properly
Is something I can only suppose
You’re not writing a poem or a rhyme
You’re openly inviting me into your mind
And just why? …only God knows
One develops opinions about you
And biases, both good and bad
Based on what you’ve unknowingly said
In your writings, choice of subject
Turn of phrase, become suspect
And lets one get into your head
Perhaps I should not…perhaps it’s not right
But I know you a bit better
each poem that you write
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quest
If my quest was to be the best...
I could not sit,
Until I sat in 'research' quick.
Before I grabbed a walking stick...
To adorn this climbing crusade!
I want to be dressed for the part!
If my quest was to be the best.
BS and all the rest of that nonsense,
Would be left behind...
With the ignorance that it swallows.
If my quest was to be the best.
I would need to learn how to be uncomfortable...
Sometimes.
And in my discomfort I think of what's been left behind.
And I find myself in my mind feeling at home!
Glued like a magnet to the ignorance that comforts!
If my quest was to be the best...
I would find a way to excavate this 'home'
Decorated with my heart and soul within me!
And 'that' would be the best of my quest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ability-1
And
She's treading on still..
As has been so far
Deafly unconcerned
Along a road, in the cab, in the shop
Anywhere
Unbeaten by deafening noise
Unbothered of scolding, mocking, joking, shirking
Others blaring in
searching a piece of sound
Fathoming her ears
Unknowingly that
She the queen
Her dictatorship bejeweled, bedecked
Slamming everybody at her feet
Her best familial way
Despite a deaf, illiterate
Unknowingly about
Her sovereign cognition
Of kitchen and as well of her nation
Despite a deaf, illiterate
Unknowingly that
She the most unconcerned of herself
Devoid of aid any her hearing-loss
Yet can talk on M.S.Subbalakshmi
Despite a deaf, illiterate
Unknowingly that
She the shepherdess of the infernals
Where she's treading on still..
The bold and deaf ninetyfive
To the inkling sound of silence
Treading on still..
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Read Don Quixote; it is a very good book; I still read it frequently.
quote by Thomas Sydenham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I tell her these things when I come home
So much
Has been taken for the quest of something original
Time squeezes to something interesting
Something original
I am carried away
I look out this glass window
Seeing the sea
Farther blue nearer me is brownish
The river is flooded the rain poured wildly in the mountain
A blue green car passes by below
A woman with a basket of something
(I cannot see clearly)
Holds her boy like a twig of a tree
The wind must be blowing hard
There could be typhoon
I see these happening, I am from here. I live here.
I tell her these things when I come home
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wonderful search!
Wonderful search!
Dear, beloved,
wonderful,
Wonderful,
You are so close,
Yet so far,
Look at me,
Look in my eyes,
And say, I am you,
You are me,
We are one,
We are same,
in origin and share,
Same universe,
Sing o my dear,
How can I am
Different when,
Same truth sings,
I am that,
I am that,
I am that,
In every being!
what you quest for
is hidden within you,
What you weep and pray,
Is the greater self,
Of you, me and all,
Fine if you doubt,
Read me in your own heart!
not as you or
Ramdas Bhandarkar,
But find I in your heart,
original formless of whom,
We are different forms!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Frequently the wood are pink
6
Frequently the wood are pink—
Frequently are brown.
Frequently the hills undress
Behind my native town.
Oft a head is crested
I was wont to see—
And as oft a cranny
Where it used to be—
And the Earth— they tell me—
On its Axis turned!
Wonderful Rotation!
By but twelve performed!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Wounds On Soul
Some tears
I think,
Would never dry.
Like days after days of monsoon
Forever would make me cry.
The tears
you handed me.
Unknowingly,
Very lovingly,
Yet unwipable
For a lifetime of me.
Some wounds
I think,
Would never heal.
Like a live volcano
Forever will make me bleed.
Those wounds
You inflicted.
Unknowingly,
Unintentionally,
Yet deep enough
For a lifetime to fill.
Some aches
I think,
Would never till
Like an open sore
Forever will hurt my being.
Those pains
You gifted me
Unknowingly,
Unintentionally,
Yet totally incurable
For this lifetime to lead.
Some tears
Would never dry.-anjali
poem by Anjali Kakati
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Quest
What am I looking for?
What am I searching for?
What quest is this, I know not?
Where does this path lead to?
Where is my destination?
What quest is this, I know not?
Is my quest worth it?
Or is it just a pursuit for
some goal or purpose?
Or is it an exploration of
the journey called life?
Or is it a crusade for
meeting with the Lord?
What quest is this, I know not?
Copyright©2011Rizvana Parveen
poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Happiness?
Afar I found my happiness,
a place where I could be my best.
Far away from what caused my distress,
I finally conquered my life-long quest.
The quest to find pure happiness,
that was the quest that I've been blessed.
But what you ask is pure happiness? ..
Honestly, I'm not really sure..
just take a guess.
Being happy as what I see,
is something we always want to be.
But how you ask can we always be,
very happy for eternity?
In our days, this happiness,
it's something we just risk to mess.
But happiness where can we find?
I want to know.. what's on your mind?
We got all the needs but more of the wants,
sometimes we even want more pairs of pants.
Like all other things,
I think this happiness is just temporary.
All these things I've been saying,
honestly, I feel it's very contrary.
I guess this quest that I've been blessed,
hasn't really been conquered just yet..
'cause I feel a bit haggard about this quest,
I think for a while I need to take a rest.
So, all of you who also got this quest,
come, please help me, I'm in such a big mess.
Come on,
just tell me..
is it east or west..
where did you find this so called
'happiness'?
poem by Cookie Matzii
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The Interpretation Of The New More Elaborate Story
To be read is to be interpreted.
By someone, somewhere.
With glassy eyes they do stare and compare.
A comparison can sometimes be seen as a disrespect in manner of speaking.
Better yet impersonating it with your own thoughts, with your own words, your own feelings could cause some to become enraged.
But isn't that what writing is?
An inspiration.
Shouldn't that make original writer proud.
Original being not as original as one thinks.
For they also got it from somewhere.
Words aren't just strung together and make sense.
If they were we would all do it.
An artist must first see something visually to paint a picture.
But how did he learn how to paint in the first place?
He started out by mimicking someone else.
Then he found his own technique.
His own style completely unique.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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To tell something original.
She says, you are not original in what you are telling me
Any janitor in your office can always say that seeing that
It is different. I am original in this. I am feeling something.
I am original in this feeling and you do not feel it that way I see these things.
I am leaving you. It is the first time I am feeling this. It is this first time
That I am telling you. I am original. I have long searched what words to use
To tell something original.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Read My Mind
(keith thomas, melissa coleman, todd moore)
A penny for my thoughts you say
You want to know what I could be thinking
But as I speak the music starts to play
And the words just somehow slip away
Chorus:
Read my mind
It will tell you that I love you and
Youre all I ever wanted in a man
Youd see how I feel
What my head wont let my heart reveal
If only you could read my mind
One look from you and look at me
Im trembling like a little girl
I tell myself if I can just believe
Any day now youll fall in love with me
Repeat chorus
Tell me if you feel the same way I do
And tell me that Im not mistakenly taken with you
Youre all I ever wanted in a man
You see, all I need is everything you are to me
If you could somehow read my mind
You would see what I cant seem to say
If only you could, if you would read my mind
Read my mind
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.
quote by Thomas Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Copies are different originals
I take after my father but not his original.
I take after my brother but not his original.
Replicas are themselves original.
03.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Very few people are original. There's very little original anything out there. Because to be original means you have to stand alone.
quote by Susan Powter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I do read books. I suppose it's more or less the same thing, but at least I'm alone and I'm an individual. I can stop anytime I want, which I frequently do.
quote by Jack Vance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psycho Killer
I cant seem to face up to the facts
Im tense and nervous and i
Cant relax
I cant sleep cause my beds on fire
Dont touch me Im a real live wire
Psycho killer
Quest que cest
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Psycho killer
Quest que cest
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
You start a conversation you cant even finish it.
Youre talkin a lot, but youre not sayin anything.
When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.
Say something once, why say it again?
Psycho killer,
Quest que cest
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Psycho killer
Quest que cest
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
(* spoken interlude in french *)
Psycho killer,
Quest que cest
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Psycho killer,
Quest que cest
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh....
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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