Patterns
The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawL
Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow Little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.
>From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are Patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.
And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it's fitting that it should,
For in darknesss I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of Patterns
That can scarcely be controlled.
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Patterns
The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl
Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me
From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death
There are patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath
Like a rat in a maze
The path before my lies
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies
And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell
And it's fitting that it should
For in darkness I must dwell
Like the color of my skin
Or the day that I grow old
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's a pattern when tours start - a pattern of infighting, of making up, of breaking up, of addiction. There's a pattern of going to jail. There's a pattern of passion for music.
quote by Nikki Sixx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patterns
Patterns all around you
Patterns everywhere
Patterns of behavior
Sometimes seem unfair
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Patterns unfamiliar
Patterns lead you through (to)
Patterns of discovery
Tracing out the clues
Can you recognize the patterns that you find?
Stuck in your mind
In this land where stability is hard to find
You can rearrange the patterns so unkind
Dont bother asking why a pattern never cries
Old patterns never die they just go on and on
Patterns multiplying
Re-direct our view
Endless variations
Make it all seem new
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Matter Of Perspective
Light reflections colour sunset, casting
enchanting shimmer shadows, night cap light.
Light darkling sprays now, now strays out of sight,
elusive dance advancing, fast contrasting,
leaves measured time behind, mocks tight forecasting.
Tints overprint imagination bright
as Nature's way of reaching through insight,
attracts within a vortex spin outlasting
leisure looks, taps latent springs, sees past's sting
engulfed in night-tide swing swirl, sings delight.
No frontiers stand between joy's tears, soul's flight,
and wonder as sight spans light - all surpassing.
Let life through stillness still more life gestate,
anon fey pattern weave paints second state...
robi03_1159_robi03_0000 ASX_NXX
previous title Sunset Pattern Paints
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guess the Title - Patter down Pat
..........................PATTERNS
....... ................which.......stitch
....... .........PATTERNS....PATTERNS
............ ...fit....................................into
...........PATTERNS....................PATTE RNS
.........knit......................... .........................onto
....PATTERNS ..........................................PATTERN S
enrich.................................. ...................................which
. ...PATTERNS...................................... ....PATTERNS
.........knit................ ..................................onto
... ........PATTERNS....................PATTERNS
...............fit............................ ........into
................PATTERNS....P ATTERNS
.......................which...... .stitch
..........................PATTERNS
10 August 1995
robi03_0762_robi03_0000 QXX_MXX
[C] Jonathan Robin written
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Patterns Of Time
carefully looking at this time
and that other time
how they correlate to connect each time
of the next time
to follow the same pattern of time
with no dime
but a crime
if a time
is wasted on no time
for you will never find a time
on the same time
that was underutilized by the time
you realize it were time
it will never be the same time
but a different time
at that point in time
on each pattern of time
from am to pm it is time
still morning to midnight is time
and any time
of the day is time
as from monday to sunday time
year start to midyear and year end is time
so, time
ticking as you may be aware of time
that everything is well connected to time
and must be done on time
for you will never find the same time
of that very point in time
-
do what you can, on time. for time is never a fact but a situation of the same condition on a different setting, but still its time. therefore, time is longer than rope and shorter than your scope though at times time is beyond our scope of reach and intelligence of the mind on time.
-
**extracted from 'patterns of time'**
from **patterns of life** november 2011 ebook
ntema's unique poetry (nup) .
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Mastering The Self, Though Uglier At First, And Clumsier...
sometimes you look for a pattern
you walk at the road leading to some other paths
along the way are the yellow flowers
wild with the rain last night
and giving the best
their bests this morning
when you still have to wash your hands
and clean your shoes
and comb your hair
in such a parting mode
between your
chin
a canal of
indifference
there are so many patterns to see
how does this rays of light come like daggers? are they like knives
or simply flowing waters in a pattern of subsumed invincibility?
distrust of self makes one find patterns
like a ship following the lines of the coast amidst the storms
a line of coconut trees
the shape of the horizon that looks like a margin of a paper
a frame of a painting
those van Gogh clouds and towering trees
scrambled patterns yet pointing to a stress
an accent of
similitude
you look at the end
the result gives nothing but barrenness of your creation
there is no unique touch of the self
and no one is amazed
except perhaps the shock that goes with an overrated imitation
damned
one goes back to the point of origin
the sole of your feet
the tip of your eyelash
ugly at first
but evolving into the uniqueness of your spirit
sprite, blithe
dropping the wings
loosening the grip on the expectations of others
now flying
alone and high
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Come and love me,
Come and love me,
Come and love me,
Love me know that Iam unfeigned,
Either way Iam making a sway with my sorrow,
I did alot of mistake's,
Now I need to calm and understand life's concept,
Come and love me,
There is the redeemer's voice,
That I need to wake up from all my sorrow's,
Change these pattern's that I may increase skills,
Agile and deft pattern's,
It's all a pattern not worthied a Stigma.
poem by Abdul Karim
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There are no patterns that lasts a lifetime. Some people can't stand the floating boarders. They decide on one life philosophy and live thereafter. But I've decided not to decide. I don't know everything. I don't understand everything. Both my own and others reactions are often a mystery to me. I let it be that way, hoping that maybe, instead, I can learn to understand the pattern of no patterns.
quote by Lena Olin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Puzzle
friends are like a puzzle
fitting together in so many ways
sometimes it seems like a piece is missing
sometimes it seems like everythings just right
sometimes it seems like things are falling apart
friendship like a puzzle is hard to figure out
sometimes puzzle pieces disappear
and sometimes they never come back
so my puzzle, your puzzle, our puzzle must be completed
there is only one thing that can complete the puzzle
a piece of every friends heart
our puzzle is what holds us together
my puzzle is complete
all friends are happy
all hearts are here
the friendship puzzle is complete
poem by by unknown author
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Dance, quoth Death
Come, dance with me,
Quoth Death,
I will teach thee
This
Will be Easy.
I made him
A cuppa. I
Broke bread for him,
Buttered it, and proffered:
No one should dance hungry.
Come, this is a Waltz,
Quoth Death,
One-two-three, One-two-three, One…
It will be slow
And becoming.
I made him
New shoes. I
Knitted him the socks,
Warm and well-fitting,
No one should dance barefoot.
And this,
Is Quickstep, quoth Death,
Just jump in the pattern I show,
This will be
Easy, ye know.
I made him
Mittens. I used
A herring-bone pattern of green
Wool and gold,
No one should dance
With hands that cold.
Come, dance with me,
Quoth Death.
All your life away,
This will be
Easy, when I
Will teach thee,
Quoth Death.
poem by Lauma Lapa
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Alankar (Decor) -1
ALANKAR(DECOR)
(This Alankar series is of poetry-forms
and syllabic and word patterns)
Tribute To trees-1
(syllable pattern-single syllables)
Grow more and more
Trees of need so
To sup our hearts
All time their bliss
poem by Indira Renganathan
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Light Perceptions
Light reflections colour sunset, casting
enchanting shimmer shadows, night cap light.
Light darkling sprays now, now strays out of sight,
elusive dance advancing, fast contrasting,
leaves measurements behind, mocks time's forecasting.
Tints overprint imagination bright
as Nature's way of reaching through insight,
attracts within a vortex spin outlasting
leisure looks, taps latent springs. Past’s sting
engulfed in night-tide’s swing swirl sings delight.
No frontiers twixt the tears of joy, soul's flight,
and wonder as the sight spans - all surpassing.
Let life through stillness still more life gestate,
anon the pattern paints a second state...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Staying At Ed's Place
I like being in your apartment, and not disturbing anything.
As in the woods I wouldn't want to move a tree,
or change the play of sun and shadow on the ground.
The yellow kitchen stool belongs right there
against white plaster. I haven't used your purple towel
because I like the accidental cleft of shade you left in it.
At your small six-sided table, covered with mysterious
dents in the wood like a dartboard, I drink my coffee
from your brown mug. I look into the clearing
of your high front room, where sunlight slopes through bare
window squares. Your Afghanistan hammock,
a man-sized cocoon
slung from wall to wall, your narrow desk and typewriter
are the only furniture. Each morning your light from the east
douses me where, with folded legs, I sit in your meadow,
a casual spread of brilliant carpets. Like a cat or dog
I take a roll, then, stretched out flat
in the center of color and pattern, I listen
to the remote growl of trucks over cobbles on
Bethune Street below.
When I open my eyes I discover the peaceful blank
of the ceiling. Its old paint-layered surface is moonwhite
and trackless, like the Sea—of Tranquillity.
poem by May Swenson
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You look at where you're going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you've been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something.
quote by Robert M. Pirsig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We are flexible and alive,
We are flexible and alive, outside of any known pattern, theory, worldview, medical, scientific data, observational studies, spiritual path, practice. Find your rhythm, your pattern, your space, the spaces, the spaces that are right for you.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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Art is the imposing of a pattern on experience, and our aesthetic enjoyment is recognition of the pattern.
Alfred North Whitehead in Dialogues (1954)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Widow McFarlane
I was the Widow McFarlane,
Weaver of carpets for all the village.
And I pity you still at the loom of life,
You who are singing to the shuttle
And lovingly watching the work of your hands,
If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth.
For the cloth of life is woven, you know,
To a pattern hidden under the loom i
A pattern you never see!
And you weave high-hearted, singing, singing,
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple.
And long after other eyes can see
You have woven a moon-white strip of cloth,
You laugh in your strength, for Hope o'erlays it
With shapes of love and beauty.
The loom stops short! The pattern's out!
You're alone in the room! You have woven a shroud!
And hate of it lays you in it!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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