Citatepedia^®.com

Take away paradox from the thinker and you have a professor.

classic quote by Kierkegaard
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Investigating Flora

'Twas in scientific circles
That the great Professor Brown
Had a world-wide reputation
As a writer of renown.
He had striven finer feelings
In our natures to implant
By his Treatise on the Morals
Of the Red-eyed Bulldog Ant.
He had hoisted an opponent
Who had trodden unawares
On his "Reasons for Bare Patches
On the Female Native Bears".
So they gave him an appointment
As instructor to a band
Of the most attractive females
To be gathered in the land.
'Twas a "Ladies' Science Circle" --
Just the latest social fad
For the Nicest People only,
And to make their rivals mad.
They were fond of "science rambles"
To the country from the town --
A parade of female beauty
In the leadership of Brown.
They would pick a place for luncheon
And catch beetles on their rugs;
The Professor called 'em "optera" --
They calld 'em "nasty bugs".
Well, the thing was bound to perish
For no lovely woman can
Feel the slightest interest
In a club without a Man --
The Professor hardly counted
He was crazy as a loon,
With a countenance suggestive
Of an elderly baboon.
But the breath of Fate blew on it
With a sharp and sudden blast,
And the "Ladies' Science Circle"
Is a memory of the past.

There were two-and-twenty members,
Mostly young and mostly fair,
Who had made a great excursion
To a place called Dontknowwhere,
At the crossing of Lost River,
On the road to No Man's Land.
There they met an old selector,
With a stockwhip in his hand,
And the sight of so much beauty

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sestina Otiosa

Our great work, the Otia Merseiana,
Edited by learned Mister Sampson,
And supported by Professor Woodward,
Is financed by numerous Bogus Meetings
Hastily convened by Kuno Meyer
To impose upon the Man of Business.

All in vain! The accomplished Man of Business
Disapproves of Otia Merseiana,
Turns his back on Doctor Kuno Meyer;
Cannot be enticed by Mister Sampson,
To be present at the Bogus Meetings,
Though attended by Professor Woodward.

Little cares the staid Professor Woodward:
He, being something of a man of business,
Knows that not a hundred Bogus Meetings
To discuss the Otia Merseiana
Can involve himself and Mister Sampson
In the debts of Doctor Kuno Meyer.

So the poor deluded Kuno Meyer,
Unenlightened by Professor Woodward --
Whom, upon the word of Mister Sampson,
He believes to be a man of business
Fit to run the Otia Merseiana --
Keeps on calling endless Bogus Meetings.

Every week has now its Bogus Meetings,
Punctually convened by Kuno Meyer
In the name of Otia Merseiana:
Every other week Professor Woodward
Takes his place, and, as a man of business,
Audits the accounts with Mister Sampson.

He and impecunious Mister Sampson
Are the mainstay of the Bogus Meetings;
But the alienated Man of Business
Cannot be allured by Kuno Meyer
To attend and meet Professor Woodward,
Glory of the Otia Merseiana.

Kuno Meyer! Great Professor Woodward!
Bogus Meetings damn, for men of business,
Mister Sampson's Otia Merseiana.

poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Professor Nutbutters House Of Treats

Cmon kiddies gather round. whos your foremost friend in town?
From main to maple the name resounds, professor nutbutter.
Hes the one, the humble one, the barkley county prodigal son.
Here to serve only you, professor nutbutter.
At old nutbutters house of treats from jellied jams to sacks of
Sweets,
Theres creamy and nutatious spreads for all.
Chemist, master of entomology the professor for a modest fee
Will cure what ails you, guaranteed professor nutbutter.
Its alright, dont fear the worm.
Cmon kiddies dont be shy be youthful til the day you die.
The man the myth, the magic of professor nutbutter.
Hes the one the only one the meeklybville prodigal son.
Here to help us with ourselves, professor nutbutter
Its alright to fear the worm.
[its all right to fear the worm. the worm, the worm is our friend.
Um, but not all of the properties of the worm can be, uh, fully,
Fully, well, appreciated by the, uh, the human body itself, but, um
Its, its, its, its ok to, to fear the worm. um, i, myself, have
Had no, uh, problems with the worm but in a certain situation, uh, i
Would feel like, what, what, uh, ramifications, um, could occur? uh,
Theres, theres really no need to, uh, to fear much of anything, you
Know. fear of the, fear of the temptation is a, more, probably, more,
More, appropriate word in this particular scenario. um, the, uh,
Well, it, depends on what you want, I suppose. it really depends on,
On what you want.]

song performed by Primus
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Holy Paradox

It's one of the most important things
The the kind of word that rings
In your ears, that seems to be the opposite of sense

Paradox

They seem like such nonsense
In fact I used to take offense
At their confusing nature
There appears to be no cure
For their contradicting and infectious creed
Their polluting and illogical seed
But then I realized that I've been blind
Yes blind, yes even this whole time
There was one paradox I just refused to see
One paradox that would come to define me

Holy paradox
Righteous sinner
Righteousness is the absence of sin
Sin is the absence of righteousness
So which one will win?

So when you confess
Jesus died for sin
He rose again so that it'd never win
But sin is inside us
It grows and festers like a pus
Our hearts are evil
We can't deny
Jeremiah 17: 9
Our heart will remain evil, yes remain until
That day when we see Him as He is
That day when we fully become His
But this is

The Holy Paradox

I'm a righteous sinner
Washed by the blood of grace
Sinner that even punishment does not deter
Righteous son of the living God, beloved who will see God's face

So I come back to the same conclusion
It's the things that we don't understand that give us purpose
It's the paradoxes, it's the unseen that defines the seen, that defines us
How could you have an evil heart and be righteous? Contradiction?
How could one God be three persons in One?
How could this God love us enough to give up His Son?
How could God know the future, and yet give us free choice?

[...] Read more

poem by David Knox
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Science is Unscientific

The Professor rose from his chair.
He moved the book to the middle
Of the table as he stood up.

"Now, listen! " he said in an amicable voice.
"Science prides itself in being factual,
objective, precise, unbiased, detached
and verifiable, free from introversion,
a way of knowing things without added colours
and portraying accurately the physical world
in its own light".

The Turtle was sipping his ginger ale.

"Oh, this description of science is nothing
but a myth", he said. "As I see it,
even the most magnificent accomplishments
of science involve emotions,
an individual sense of wonder and curiosity,
the psychological experience of the rapturous
and the mystical. Consequently,
a paradoxical and built in property
of science concerns
its own unscientific disposition.
And therefore, in my opinion,
science is thoroughly unscientific."

"Nonsense", the professor objected.
"If science were really unscientific,
as you claim, it could not produce
nuclear energy, airplanes, or computers.
And it could not put
astronauts on the moon".

"Well, I indeed never stop to wonder,
How is it possible that with so little knowledge
humans can accomplish so much? "
the Turtle said.

And then he added:
"But, you should not
confuse science with technology".

"I don't get your point", the Professor said,
"because you still did not provide me with
a good justification of your negative view
of science".

"Look! Science stands on very shaky

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Hartal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Christmas-Eve

I.
OUT of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night air again.
I had waited a good five minutes first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre,
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter:
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch,
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Four feet long by two feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.
No remedy; the rain kept driving:
They eyed me much as some wild beast,
The congregation, still arriving,
Some of them by the mainroad, white
A long way past me into the night,
Skirting the common, then diverging;
Not a few suddenly emerging
From the common’s self thro’ the paling-gaps,—
—They house in the gravel-pits perhaps,
Where the road stops short with its safeguard border
Of lamps, as tired of such disorder;—
But the most turned in yet more abruptly
From a certain squalid knot of alleys,
Where the town’s bad blood once slept corruptly,
Which now the little chapel rallies
And leads into day again,—its priestliness
Lending itself to hide their beastliness
So cleverly (thanks in part to the mason),
And putting so cheery a whitewashed face on
Those neophytes too much in lack of it,
That, where you cross the common as I did,
And meet the party thus presided,
“Mount Zion,” with Love-lane at the back of it,
They front you as little disconcerted,
As, bound for the hills, her fate averted
And her wicked people made to mind him,
Lot might have marched with Gomorrah behind him.

II.
Well, from the road, the lanes or the common,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Love With A Thinker

Shes a definite thinker
It dont take a genius to see
Theres something ticking behind those eyes
What does she think of me
She has the answer when I dont know what to ask
And always lets me know so innocently
But when she gets that certain look on her face
I wonder what will be left when shes finished with me
God help me, Im in love with a thinker
Save me, lips of a singer
Help me, feet of a dancer
Save me, Im in love with a thinker
Yes, shes a definite thinker
Sometimes she tries to hide it from me
But when she starts talking over my head
It makes me dizzy
Im just a cipher in the master plan
Thats what I get for working out of my league
And though she says that I have nothing to fear
I wonder what will be left when shes finished with me
I know Im just a fool to her
But will she turn me into a memory
I have to make up the difference somehow
Though she insists we have equality
But every time she gets that look on her face
I wonder what will be left when shes finished with me

song performed by Utopia
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Thinker Thinks

News a drag…
Pants that sag…
The thief in the nite…
Lovers quarrel that ends in a fight…
The Thinker Thinks…
That life is a pain…
All four seasons of nature…
Surely comes to past…
The bitter with the sweet…
The boastful with the meek…
The Thinker Thinks
Spirit led intentions guides your life…
Keeping joy, love, and smiles during strife…
(e.g.) Martin Luther king…
The Thinker Thinks…
Is life a pain…
That ends in death…or what…
Befell …us…
A conquest…
The Thinker Thinks

poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Paradox Of Poetry

The Paradox of Poetry
Is that every poem contains its own questions-
And that each question it asks
Is answered in another question
Raised from somewhere else-

The paradox of Poetry
Is that its meanings
Cannot be contained by themselves-
And so each paradox too
Bears within it its own ambiguity-

I call this a poem about Poetry
But in Paradox
It is a statement of Love
Which abstract as it is
Lacks poetic feeling
A non- poetic poem
Aspiring to be poetry too-

poem by Shalom Freedman
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Verbal Milk

Yeuch!Brother J says yeuuch!Hmmhmmhmmhmm..
[Professor X]
Ahhhh!Straight from the temple of everlasting
ME!P.X.O., and the X-Clan (aww yeah)
Chillin, cleaning the pinkie
Hey Brother J, time for a ride
Put the key, to the ignition, and then..
[Brother J]
Ah yes yes blue, ah come on to go
We're immortals to the portals til the book folds
I'm goin Blackwards to the East, tweedle-dee, tweedle-dum
Fee fi fum to the tribal drum drum
I'm sittin on my temple, just pluckin silly mortals
Speakin peace of mind to my many sons and daughters
Gettin loose, loose, as I release the juice
I'm more into the (?) cause a simple Mother Goose
could never hang with the words, that ever caused the clamor
I'm singin "Raise the Flag" cause I hate the Spangled Banner
Because you can't get with me, you label me enemy
Your comments on the mortal side are labelled as blasphemy
More than I am, puts the taste in the dam
Puts the X in the Clan that puts the brother on land
It's like that y'all, ya don't stop
Because the sight of the Watch is sure to shock
From the beginning
From the beginning is it winning, is it ever?
Unearthly, resistance, forever
You think your thief based system is clever?
It's a simplistic, endeavor
I checkmate, terminate, never late, contemplate
Mindstate is never fake, hesitate you lose
No shoes ever do I kick around in boots
I simply drop the science that just speaks about the (?)
in our nature's, flavor, lacking from the coon
Now our dream for the younger, when will the rover take reign?
Is it a joke or something you can't cope with
Devils keep avoiding, people keep on hopin
for the move and groove, put your dead body in a soothin mood
Don't need no air, no sex, and no food
The tool, is mine, to use - Blackward row
[Professor X]
Ahhhh.. riding the crossroad!
Brother J on the wheel
Sugar Shaft in the back with Queen Nefretiti
Yo J, push it to the full nine
and let's move.. zoom!
[Brother J]
Day two-dark-zero-zero and it circles degree
Brother one makes up a system bring oppressors to knees
I speak a language universal, check on how I use it

[...] Read more

song performed by X-Clan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fire & Earth

Cave men! [You better hush!] Cave women! [Hush!] And the... [Hush!]
Troglodytes! [Gun shot.]
[Somebody's calling my name....]
[Brother J]
Ah, yeah! Ah, come on, come on, come on!
[Professor X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[Brother J] Uh, to the East, my brother, to the East! Come on!
[X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[J] To the East, my brother, to the East, yeah!
[X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[J] To the East, my brother, to the East, my brother, to the East, my
brother, to the East, my brother, to the East, my brother, to the East!
[Professor X]
Yes! I'm that kind of nigga
The one you fear, be scared you can't figger
The one that has the finger on the trigger, boom!
In the cut of zoom
In the darkness, the halo, the moon!
Stepping ta' ya' real soon
Ah! Check the blackness!
Me before those enter the lightness!
Masturbating!
Masquerading!
And you call your self righteous?
Follow me!
A peripheral, missionary, and ark commit-ness
Having intercourse with the nation of darkness!
Books with worms!
Jherri suited with last names like perms!
niggas, get your hands of your cracks, come to terms with yourself
If you don't get any bigger
Pink Caddy driving, black boot stomping
Yes! I'm that kind of nigga
Brother J, whatcha' say?
Brother J, Brother J, whatcha' say?
Brother J, whatcha' say? Brother J, whatcha' say?
[Brother J]
Yeah!
I'm just a pro-Black nigga, and I'm doing this
And yet you watch me, clock me, to see if I continue this
In the ways of the Caddy I survive like a pimp
No jherri curls, waves, perms, or crimps
The ever-nappy crew setting the mood
I raise my fuel for my firm attitude
Walking through the streets with my war cry spear
Certain folks know it means doom when they hear
My firm, black boots with no spurs attached
Now let me take a second, cause I might detach
My black boots if you confuse
I lose my peoples in the words you choose

[...] Read more

song performed by X-Clan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fire & Earth

Cave men! [You better hush!] Cave women! [Hush!] And the... [Hush!]
Troglodytes! [Gun shot.]
[Somebody's calling my name....]
[Brother J]
Ah, yeah! Ah, come on, come on, come on!
[Professor X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[Brother J] Uh, to the East, my brother, to the East! Come on!
[X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[J] To the East, my brother, to the East, yeah!
[X] To the East, my brother, to the East!
[J] To the East, my brother, to the East, my brother, to the East, my
brother, to the East, my brother, to the East, my brother, to the East!
[Professor X]
Yes! I'm that kind of nigga
The one you fear, be scared you can't figger
The one that has the finger on the trigger, boom!
In the cut of zoom
In the darkness, the halo, the moon!
Stepping ta' ya' real soon
Ah! Check the blackness!
Me before those enter the lightness!
Masturbating!
Masquerading!
And you call your self righteous?
Follow me!
A peripheral, missionary, and ark commit-ness
Having intercourse with the nation of darkness!
Books with worms!
Jherri suited with last names like perms!
niggas, get your hands of your cracks, come to terms with yourself
If you don't get any bigger
Pink Caddy driving, black boot stomping
Yes! I'm that kind of nigga
Brother J, whatcha' say?
Brother J, Brother J, whatcha' say?
Brother J, whatcha' say? Brother J, whatcha' say?
[Brother J]
Yeah!
I'm just a pro-Black nigga, and I'm doing this
And yet you watch me, clock me, to see if I continue this
In the ways of the Caddy I survive like a pimp
No jherri curls, waves, perms, or crimps
The ever-nappy crew setting the mood
I raise my fuel for my firm attitude
Walking through the streets with my war cry spear
Certain folks know it means doom when they hear
My firm, black boots with no spurs attached
Now let me take a second, cause I might detach
My black boots if you confuse
I lose my peoples in the words you choose

[...] Read more

song performed by X-Clan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Verbal Milk

Yeuch!Brother J says yeuuch!Hmmhmmhmmhmm..
[Professor X]
Ahhhh!Straight from the temple of everlasting
ME!P.X.O., and the X-Clan (aww yeah)
Chillin, cleaning the pinkie
Hey Brother J, time for a ride
Put the key, to the ignition, and then..
[Brother J]
Ah yes yes blue, ah come on to go
We're immortals to the portals til the book folds
I'm goin Blackwards to the East, tweedle-dee, tweedle-dum
Fee fi fum to the tribal drum drum
I'm sittin on my temple, just pluckin silly mortals
Speakin peace of mind to my many sons and daughters
Gettin loose, loose, as I release the juice
I'm more into the (?) cause a simple Mother Goose
could never hang with the words, that ever caused the clamor
I'm singin "Raise the Flag" cause I hate the Spangled Banner
Because you can't get with me, you label me enemy
Your comments on the mortal side are labelled as blasphemy
More than I am, puts the taste in the dam
Puts the X in the Clan that puts the brother on land
It's like that y'all, ya don't stop
Because the sight of the Watch is sure to shock
From the beginning
From the beginning is it winning, is it ever?
Unearthly, resistance, forever
You think your thief based system is clever?
It's a simplistic, endeavor
I checkmate, terminate, never late, contemplate
Mindstate is never fake, hesitate you lose
No shoes ever do I kick around in boots
I simply drop the science that just speaks about the (?)
in our nature's, flavor, lacking from the coon
Now our dream for the younger, when will the rover take reign?
Is it a joke or something you can't cope with
Devils keep avoiding, people keep on hopin
for the move and groove, put your dead body in a soothin mood
Don't need no air, no sex, and no food
The tool, is mine, to use - Blackward row
[Professor X]
Ahhhh.. riding the crossroad!
Brother J on the wheel
Sugar Shaft in the back with Queen Nefretiti
Yo J, push it to the full nine
and let's move.. zoom!
[Brother J]
Day two-dark-zero-zero and it circles degree
Brother one makes up a system bring oppressors to knees
I speak a language universal, check on how I use it

[...] Read more

song performed by X-Clan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Lines in Praise of Professor Blackie

Alas! the people's hearts are now full of sorrow
For the deceased Professor Blackie, of Edinboro';
Because he was a Christian man, affable and kind,
And his equal in charitable actions would be hard to find

'Twas in the year of 1895, March the 2nd, he died at 10 o'clock.
Which to his dear wife, and his adopted son, was a great shock;
And before he died he bade farewell to his adopted son and wife.
Which, no doubt, they will remember during life.

Professor Blackie celebrated his golden wedding three years ago,
When he was made the recipient of respect from high and low.
He leaves a widow, but, fortunately, no family,
Which will cause Mrs. Blackie to feel less unhappy.

Professor Blackie will be greatly missed in Edinboro;
Especially those that met him daily will feel great sorrow,
When they think of his never-failing plaid and hazel rung,
For, although he was an old man, he considered he was young.

He had a very striking face, and silvery locks like a seer,
And in the hearts of the Scottish people he was loved most dear;
And many a heart will mourn for him, but all in vain,
Because he never can return to them again.

He was a very kind-hearted man, and in no way vain,
And I'm afraid we ne'er shall look upon his like again;
And to hear him tell Scotch stories, the time did quickly pass,
And for singing Scotch songs few could him surpass.

But I hope e is in heaven, singing with saints above,
Around God's throne, where all is peace and love;
There, where God's children daily doth meet
To sing praises to God, enchanting and sweet.

He had visited almost every part of Europe in his time,
And, like Lord Byron, he loved the Grecian clime;
Nor did he neglect his own dear country,
And few men knew it more thoroughly than he.

On foot he tramped o'er most of bonnie Scotland,
And in his seventies he climbed the highest hills most grand.
Few men in his day could be compared to him,
Because he wasn't hard on fallen creatures when they did sin.

Oh, dearly beloved Professor Blackie, I must conclude my muse,
And to write in praise of thee my pen does not refuse;
Because you were a very Christian man, be it told,
Worthy of a monument, and your name written thereon in letters of gold.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

How Does It Feel To Be Alone?

How does it feel to be alone
with no one round with whom you can
hang out, e-mail and telephone
now silent from your loverman?

How does it feel to get no kicks
from your beloved? Who is left,
for you to mix with, will you nix
your lovelife, loverman bereft?

Stone cold and lonely, lady, will
you roll, or will you gather moss?
On empty running, will you fill
your life again, make up your loss?

I knew that you were bound to fall
when first you fell for me. D’you feel
there’s someone else now you can call
and hope that you can make a deal?

With no direction home, is there,
d’you think, another man who’ll hold
you as I did, and if so, where
d’you think that like a stone he’s rolled?

Inspired by an article in the NYT by Adam Liptak on the use of lyrics by Bob Dylan in the Supreme Court (“The Chief Justice, Dylan and the Disappearing Double Negative, ” June 29,2008) :

The last chief justice liked light opera. The new one cites Bob Dylan. oour pages into his dissent on Monday in an achingly boring dispute between pay phone companies and long distance carriers, John G. Roberts Jr., the chief justice of the United States, put a song lyric where the citation to precedent usually goes. “The absence of any right to the substantive recovery means that respondents cannot benefit from the judgment they seek and thus lack Article III standing, ” Chief Justice Roberts wrote. “ ‘When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.’ Bob Dylan, Like a Rolling Stone, on Highway 61 Revisited (Columbia Records 1965) .”
Alex B. Long, a law professor at the University of Tennessee and perhaps the nation’s leading authority on the citation of popular music in judicial opinions, said this was almost certainly the first use of a rock lyric to buttress a legal proposition in a Supreme Court decision. “It’s a landmark opinion, ” Professor Long said.
In the lower courts, according to a study Professor Long published in the Washington & Lee Law Review last year, Mr. Dylan is by far the most cited songwriter. He has been quoted in 26 opinions. Paul Simon is next, with 8 (12 if you count those attributed to Simon & Garfunkel) . Bruce Springsteen has 5.
But Mr. Dylan has only once before been cited as an authority on Article III standing, which concerns who can bring a lawsuit in federal court. His key contribution to legal discourse has been in another area.
“The correct rule on the necessity of expert testimony has been summarized by Bob Dylan: ‘You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, ’ ” a California appeals court wrote in 1981, citing “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” Eighteen other decisions have cited that lyric.
Chief Justice Roberts’s predecessor, William H. Rehnquist, cited his beloved Gilbert & Sullivan in a 1980 dissent from a decision that the press had a constitutional right of access to court proceedings. He was still an associate justice, and he thought the court had made up the right out of whole cloth. In rebuttal, Justice Rehnquist relied on the Lord Chancellor in “Iolanthe” to rebuke the majority. “The Law is the true embodiment of everything that’s excellent, ” the Lord Chancellor says. “It has no kind of fault or flaw, and I, my Lords, embody the Law.”
That made Justice Rehnquist’s point pretty well. The Roberts citation is more problematic. On the one hand, he showed excellent taste. “Like a Rolling Stone, ” as Greil Marcus has written, is “the greatest record ever made, perhaps, or the greatest record that ever would be made.” On the other hand, Chief Justice Roberts gets the citation wrong, proving that he is neither an originalist nor a strict constructionist. What Mr. Dylan actually sings, of course, is, “When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose.”
It’s true that many Web sites, including Mr. Dylan’s official one, reproduce the lyric as Chief Justice Roberts does. But a more careful Dylanist might have consulted his iPod. “It was almost certainly the clerks who provided the citation, ” Professor Long said. “I suppose their use of the Internet to check the lyrics violates one of the first rules they learned when they were all on law review: when quoting, always check the quote with the original source, not someone else’s characterization of what the source said.” The larger objection is that the citation is not true to the original point Mr. Dylan was making, which was about the freedom that having nothing conveys and not about who may sue a phone company. (See, e.g., “Me and Bobby McGee.”)

6/29/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Rodin’s, ‘The Thinker- Poet’

Auguste Rodin’s bronze-man sits,
(A muscled-body, nude to core) ,
In stooping posture, chin on fist,
Neck-flexed, a worried, smile-less face,
- Reflecting mind in thoughts, all deep.

The sculptor’s impeccable craft
Is evident in all details:
A haunting depth of vision cast,
Precisely –made contours and lines,
Revealing skill par excellence.

An example to art-lovers;
A master-piece that’s almost live;
A glorious work that’s immortal;
A metal fashioned so real-
Inviting crowds that never cease!

Who was the Thinker, Rodin made?
-Plato, Brando, Nietzsche or else?
Undeciphered, it yet remains;
A dejected, French lad’s effort,
That brought him luck in later times,
To build monuments of import.

The haunted mind of poor Rodin,
Thus resurrected sculpting art,
That almost dead lay, at that time,
Inspiring artists of new class,
That saw sculpturing techniques great.

Perhaps, the Thinker was Dante,
In front of Hell’s Gates pondering-
A naked man, upon a rock,
His mind engrossed in vivid dreams,
Creating poetry superb.

The Thinker was a Poet then!
A Poet’s mind must think a lot;
Imagining things those never seen;
A mind inspired from within,
Triggered by Nature’s glorious forms.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-18-2008

poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Daylight Dreamer

Here's the half-finished painting of a girl that I started last December
Here's the first three pages of my novel bout I don't really remember
Here's my Martin guitar that I never quite learned how to play
That's the daylight dreamer wishful thinker's way

I had a Harley bike but I traded it off to a feller
For the Astroglass boat that's still sittin down in my cellar
I bought a tape recorder and found I had nothin' to say
That's the daylight dreamer wishful thinker's way

I got an exercise machine man I'd be glad to let you try it
This well it's a Leika Camera maybe you'd like to buy it
I can get you a real good deal
I just need enough money to buy myself some modeling clay
Yeah that's the daylight dreamer wishful thinker's way

On the day that I die they'll be talking about the dearly departed
And they'll say he never ever finished nothin' that he started
But I started this song man I'm gonna finish it today
Yeah that's the daylight dreamer

(How was it...daylight...oh wish...wishful...think...what were it...
I forgot I forgot the words
Listen... anyway... why don't we just take a break and finish it later you know
Cause I could sure use a sandwich
I wanna get myself a BLT or something
And listen... right near the restaurant there's a great old bookstore.
Right near the restaurant
They got all these great old books... great old comic books...they got Batman)

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Diamonds Are From Forever

Silent, they speak
of the elemental:
clear as water, clear as air,
bright as fire, sparkling as sunlight,
hot from the Sun, cold as ice,
yet created out of blackest earth
by forces beyond our imagination

and I wouldn’t be surprised
if one day they’ll be found
to emit a sound so far beyond heard sound
that only dolphins and eagles may
hear it a thousand miles away and smile;
elemental, the most beautiful paradox
of the so practical, created world

and sparkling at the throat, on ears,
the haloed tiara on the up-piled hair,
but most of all, upon the outstretched finger - look -
silent, they speak: he loves me; or,
I am loved; or, this is the love
I draw to me; or, this is the love
I have in me to give

silent, they speak
of the spark of a severed sun,
spinning a solar system of such
solemn, sparkling paradox – a burning Sun,
a fertile planet Earth, revolving
around each other like forever lovers
who need each other to be one -
an incandescent mass of already
cooling planet beyond all
measured heat; of something

even beyond paradox, that could create
by laws of nature which we can only now begin to imitate,
something so ordinary a pebble yet
so beautiful when polished, treasured,
that it’s a metaphor for love;
silent, sparkling with
the laughing, bright-eyed question -

who created love?

poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Unicorn 13

who does not wish, openly or secretly,
to meet it, in some quiet place?
even a secret image in the mind's dead index
of those materialists who
deny it a reality, calling it a
‘mythological creature’ – as if
the mind were not superior to flesh and earth?

this, the very reason for
its longevity – who would not,
were it material, have hunted it by now
for a prince’s ransom, its magic horn ground down, hunted to
extinction – so that we would say
‘as dead as unicorn’ and left
the dodo forgotten and unmourned?
and so, to be a myth is logical…

and thus, the unicorn lives, beyond
some banal death at a hunter’s hands;
easy, peaceful in its own preserves,
grazing in the pure air of our minds,
free to remind us that we too are born free.

the secrets of creation
hide in such unthought hills as paradox –
we, yearning for a meeting
in a place we know not where
where in that still and silent place
loud with silent joy,
moving in ways beyond the movement seen,
we meet it when the looking stops

and paradox on paradox,
once met, we do not seek to meet and meet again –
its tender single glance
tells us for ever that it always lived
inside ourselves; we ourselves
that ‘mythological creature’,
more real than our mirrored self,
grazing in the wooded groves of stillness,
the mossy dells of silence; or,
its wild mane wind-tossed,
on the flying highest hills of freedom
or bright-eyed, salt-browed, white
between the spraying waves and curling surf:
knowing ourselves to be, forever to have been:

unicorn

poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Another Skin Colour

The professor has got another skin colour on his face,
But we need to help him to soklve this problem in the name of peace and love,
And like lovely actors playing it safe in the land of peace and joy!

The professor has got another skin of his face!
So, the Doctor need to take care of it to satisfy his muse of love around;
However, Father yahweh will surely lead the way always,
For, His Mercy and Sincere Love endures forever! !
And, He is all that i do hope in to treat this professor.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!