Remarks are not literature.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Oh The Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS
Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –
What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?
I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-
Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-
Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-
Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Inflammatory Remarks
Inflammatory remarks...
Concised,
But should not be dismissed.
Actions engaging fear and terror,
To incite beliefs of those racist...
With observations biting to excite,
Increases the decrease of a credibility
That is allowed to further exist.
The origin of inflammatory remarks,
Did not just start to tear people apart.
This evilness has been given an artform...
To alarm a way of life!
Engrossing only those...
Who have chosen to anger with deceit,
And employ to their advantage
This strfe that ignites.
And conflicting fights begin,
To have the 'majority' appear as victims!
However...
Who incarcerated,
Or lives homeless on city streets...
Surrounded by blight with nothing to eat.
Believes this?
As those observing those self serving...
Know too well,
The outlook for all appears extremely bleak!
Inflammatory remarks spoken or not...
Has not erased the obscenities that have disgraced.
And a way of life valued,
That has been disrespected...
By an acceptance of neglect,
Those participating have assisted to deface!
And a diminishing witnessed,
Is without a 'collective' cohesive defense.
Apparently this to them of such ignorant whims,
Makes useless sense to condemn!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Call For Crucifixion
Interesting remarks came in rumpantly as it could. A particular remark proved indelible in all results collated. Seeing forth the one with the extra flair. Holding onto that single hope of reaching the prudent. As I swam in the pool of remarks, I dived to save an incessant unsual call and with an extension of my right hand. Glee became our comfort. From all cylinders, numerous remarks came firing-in. Neither was it hectic nor easy to separate the unique from the lot. 'Save Him, Save Him' was the modest remark made by the masses @ Mt. Calvary. Anxiously did they wait to see a phenomenom. Praying persistently as never before. Wishing their prospects could materialise in the nick of time. None of it did they live to see. Time went by even with the blink of the eye and sooner than expected, the unexpected happened. To many a people, It became a bleak news & sorrowful so to speak. Crucifixion! Crucifixion! ! Crucifixion! ! !
poem by Prince Kenny Osei
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ginger's Cobber
''E wears perjarmer soots an' cleans 'is teeth,'
That's wot I reads. It fairly knocked me flat,
'Me soljer cobber, be the name o' Keith.'
Well, if that ain't the limit, strike me fat!
The sort that Ginger Mick would think beneath
'Is notice once. Perjarmers! Cleans 'is teeth?
Ole Ginger Mick 'as sent a billy-doo
Frum somew'ere on the earth where fightin' thick.
The Censor wus a sport to let it thro',
Considerin' the choice remarks o' Mick.
It wus that 'ot, I'm wond'rin' since it came
It didn't set the bloomin' mail aflame.
I'd love to let yeh 'ave it word fer word;
But, strickly, it's a bit above the odds;
An' there's remarks that's 'ardly ever 'eard
Amongst the company to w'ich we nods.
It seems they use the style in Ginger's trench
Wot's written out an' 'anded to the Bench.
I tones the langwidge down to soot the ears
Of sich as me an' you resorts wiv now.
If I should give it jist as it appears
Partic'lar folk might want ter make a row.
But say, yeh'd think ole Ginger wus a pote
If yeh could read some juicy bits 'e's wrote.
It's this noo pal uv 'is that tickles me;
'E's got a mumma, an' 'is name is Keith.
A knut upon the Block le used to be,
'Ome 'ere; the sort that flashes golden teeth,
An' wears 'or socks, an' torks a lot o' guff;
But Ginger sez they're cobbers till they snuff.
It come about like this: Mick spragged 'im first
Fer swankin' it too much abroad the ship.
'E 'ad nice manners an' 'e never cursed;
Which set Mick's teeth on edge, as you may tip.
Likewise, 'e 'ad two silver brushes, w'ich
'Is mumma give 'im, 'cos 'e fancied sich.
Mick pinched 'em. Not, as you will understand,
Becos uv any base desire fer loot,
But jist becos, in that rough soljer band,
Them silver-backed arrangements didn't soot:
An' etiket must be observed always.
(They fetched ten drinks in Cairo, Ginger says.)
That satisfied Mick's honour fer a bit,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Faltering Knight
It knocks me can in, this ere game uv life,
A bloke gets born, grows up, looks round fer fun,
Dreams dilly dreams, then wakes to find a wife
An' fambly round 'im - all 'is young days done.
An', gazin' back, sees in 'is youth a man
Scarce reckernised. It fair knocks in me can!
Ther's me. I never seemed to mark no change
As I mooched on through life frum year to year;
An' yet, at times it seems to me dead strange
That me, uv old, is me, 'oo's sittin' 'ere.
Per'aps it ain't. 'E was a crook young coot,
While I'm a sturdy farmer, growin' froot.
But, all the same, 'e wouldn't back an' fill,
An' argue with 'imself, an' 'esitate,
Once 'e 'ad seen the way. 'E'd find the will
To go an' do the thing 'e 'ad to, straight.
That's 'ow I was; an' now-Ar, strike a light!
Life gits so mixed I can't git nothin' right.
But wot's the use? A bloke 'as got to own,
When once 'e 'as responsibility,
Ther's certin games is better left alone
Wot might be done if 'e was only free.
Ther's certin things - Oh, wot's the flamin' good?
A 'usband alwiz gits misun'erstood!
It's no use hintin'. If yeh want it straight,
Me an' me wife ain't seenin' eye to eye:
All ain't been peace an' 'armony uv late,
An' clouds is comin' up in our clear sky.
I ain't to blame, an' yet, no more's Doreen.
It's jist 'ard Fate 'as shoved 'is oar between.
All marrid blokes will understand me well.
I ain't addressin' no remarks to those
'0o've learnt but 'arf uv life. The things I tell
Is fer the ears uv fellermen that knows:
Them symperthetic 'usbands 'oo 'ave 'eard
The fog-'orn soundin' in the wifely word.
Fer when stern jooty grips a 'usband's 'eart
(That's me) an' eggs 'im on to start a scene
That's like to tear two 'appy lives apart,
In spite uv all 'er carin' (That's Doreen)
Why, there you 'ave a story that would make
A bonzer movie - with a bit uv fake.
But 'ere's the plot. When my pal, Ginger Mick,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Poetry The Beacon!
Beacon of literature is ever poetry only!
Greatness of literature lies in quality ideas;
Richness of language depends on poetry;
Worthiness of matter in poetry only is best!
Writing needs creative mind whatever thing is!
Novels, Short stories, Prose and Poetry are they
That enhance the richness of literature ever;
That too writing poetry makes one great sure!
Having chosen the form of poetry to write itself
Is not an easy matter as it needs skill and time
To write what one feels, thinks and conceives
In heart, mind and soul, otherwise no good at all!
Other forms of literature needs concentrated work
But poetry needs natural ability to express free all!
poem by Ramesh T A
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Gimmick
gimmick literature this just it's
just is gimmick a this
is not literature it's just
not just a literature this
gimmick just a it's not
this is not literature it's
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Literature and Quantum Physics
Mind spoke:
I have been the Driver of all history
for animal and man,
I've fueled Progress,
built cities,
discovered science
literature, poetry
all of this due to me:
Mind.
Imagination Spoke:
You Mind
are not of consequence
without me
Imagination.
Whatever spark might have
fired your brain
came from my fashioning
events in you Mind
to creativity,
to art
for you are merely physical seat
the vehicle,
But I Imagination
am the driver.
Body Spoke:
The two of you have no independent existence,
no living space
without me Body.
I am that temple
which houses you.
I am the physical portal
which interacts with the
world.
Whatever you can see or think Mind
or you Imagination, can imagine
is filtered thorough me Body
and flesh though I am
few doubt my ultimate power.
For surely as you both have your place
but both of you are mental most
and cannot walk or run,
[...] Read more
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Best known by culture
Any country will be best known by culture it has
It can present proudly the best possible face
It would be considered then civilized nation
To raise head in recognition with simple elation
The statesmen and heroes come next to adore
Even though they might have done extra or more
The country can afford luxury of being called generous
Rich in deep cultural heritage and prosperous
Dynasties after dynasties ruled vast chunk of land
Ruled for long after annexing and subjugating their land
The civilization has deep roots in culture and literature
It gives immense advantage to be measured for sure
The treasure can be taken away or stolen
Its impression can not be wiped out or forgotten
It will remain for centuries buried under land
To be excavated and shaped as forbidden dreamland
It may speak of the golden time it had enjoyed
The coins and clay pots may reveal what tact they had employed
The rich tradition in craft can shed the light on old technology
And some knowledge on geology and good ecology
Some of the cities speak well of their ancient heritage
It sustained the blow with devastating blow and age
The heavy wind and earth quakes might have ruined the structures
Though enough has been found out to be read in scriptures
The Romans were great warriors with fine weaponry
Their conduct on and off the field was of highest standard and exemplary
Though some of the records coincide with the facts but different accounts vary
It is not known what might have been their fate in meeting with adversary
The pictures and scripts are decoded to throw some light
The time may come to their rescue to prove them right
Some of the opinions may be erroneous and faulty
It may be assessed rightly and strengthen by the faculty
Any such development in the field of literature is welcome
It might have been influenced by any out come
The legendry tales and folk songs still rule the mind of people
It may be still interesting subject for the most of the pupils
It is matter of great pride and honor to live with
Such fine tradition to exhibit without any filth
[...] Read more
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Literature I Loved
LITERATURE I LOVED
Literature I loved-
Reading gave new lives and new worlds-
Experience enriched beyond
What I could have ever have imagined alone-
The pleasure and joy of it
The discovery the adventure-
Literature I loved
And Life greater because of it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
In the same period, Polish literature also underwent some significant changes. From social-political literature, which had a great tradition and strong motivation to be that way, Polish literature changed its focus to a psychological rather than a social one.
quote by Andrzej Wajda
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Given the devaluation of literature and of the study of foreign languages per se in the United States, as well as the preponderance of theory over text in graduate literature studies, creative writing programs keep literature courses populated.
quote by Marilyn Hacker
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ang Kanser Sa Totoy Sa Akong English Teacher
Dugay ra niyang nabati ang bukol sa w'a niya nga totoy.
Kapoy. Baliwala lang. Mora'g wala lang. Daghan pa siya'g
Gigastohan nga mga pag-umangkon. Busy pod sa World
Literature. Preoccupied sa Third World Poetry.
Napulo'g lima katuig nga gatudlo sa English ug World
Literature si Ma'am sa usa ka private religious school.
Usa ako sa iyang gipalayog sa verb, adverbs, ug adjectives.
Gipaharong kang Tolstoy. Nakig-tagay ni Omar.
Sa mga blithe spirits ni Shelly. Ug kang Lucasta sa dihang
Miasdang na siya sa gubat. Kang Emily, Pablo, Octavio.
Shakespeare.Neruda. Mistral.
Nagdugo, nagnana ang duha miya ka tutoy.
Daghang verbs, adverbs, adjectives. Aduna pa gayo'y
Mga prepositions and conjunctions nga nabalaka su'd
Sa 25 ka tuig. Natawo ang mga balak. Ug mga sugilanon.
Nanubo ang mga dahon sa laurel. Nangisog ang mga paminta.
Namaak ang kahalang sa sili sa akong mga ngabil
Mitubo ang mga pan. Mibukal ang mga tuba.
Pati ang lana sa mga hilo-anan ug mga wakwak.
Mikuyanap ang Magic Touch. Ang mga figments
Of imagination. Ang mga streams of consciousness.
Mikamang ang walay angay nga mokamang
sa ilalom sa katre ug panganod.
Dili siya magpa-opera. Dili niya gusto. Wa’y igong kwarta.
Dili nga dili makatabang ang chemotheraphy.
Giluwa na ang Iyang ATM. Nalubong siya sa utang.
Dugay ra. Nagmahay ang mga subordinate clauses.
Dili matonong ang mga direct objects. Naunay siya
Sa mga dreams nga nag-dream. Nagkulismaot
Ang mga dagway sa infinitives. Ug ang mga predicates
Mismo ang nagkutkot sa iyang lubnganan.
Nagpakaluoy ang Philippine Literature nga unta dili lang
Usa siya kuhaon ni Bathala.Time passes swiftly. Ang mga rosas
Nga mibukhad karon, pipila lang ka oras sa kilid sa bintana,
Kadali rang nangalaya. Ang mga buds na-nipped. Tight-lipped.
Dying. Dayag ang pagka-dying ni Daying.
Lubong niya karon. Ug tulo lang kami nga mitungha.
Usa lang ang miiyak. Ug ang duha, kadyot lang nga mitan-aw
Ug dayo'g biya kay dunay mga importanteng mga lakaw
Sa ilang kinabuhi.Walay gahom ang balak sa pagbanhaw kang
Ma'am. Ang mga prepositions ug conjunctions dili mga karo
Ug ligid mga mohatod kaniya sa menteryo. Nag-inusara lang
Intawon siya gihapon. Bisan pa sa iyang pagpangugat og pama-
Lak usab kaniadto. Dili ang iyang mga pag-umangkon
Ang miiyak. Ugma ablihon ko ang daan nga libro ni Pablo Neruda.
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Stop writing Literature, You garrulous Indian
a life of toil for the man in the centre
a hub in the peripheral tireless wheel
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
no words cling now no words meant in blame
the tongue he lash the words they now tame
no shock of blast open laughter rock the hall
everyman there say there sure were a man
a man no fear cowed in communion to other
made for no gods made for no demons either
all men he know best when he see just once
no second thought resurrect the man if bad
so go tell the magi no trek in sight in sky
here a man be born here he so sure die
other no like see one so bright stand up high
other no like feel like sky fall low into ocean
what make ‘m i say with feeling so just
is sure he different he force hisself work
work work work work an' again work
he work nite an' nite so 50-hour in day
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
where you go from word born here now
turn and twist all whoring the alphabet
‘don't write anything you can get published'
so publish only what you can't call your own
writing like reading's a public coital act
so showing your work is exhibitionism
‘why don't you send your stuff around
keeping it to yourself's sheer masturbation'
reading-watching-listening's just voyeurism
so sending wares around is prostitutionism
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
I let people make remarks about me, but it doesn't touch me, all those remarks.
quote by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Most remarks that are worth making are commonplace remarks. The things that makes them worth saying is that we really mean them.
quote by Robert Lynd
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
There are remarks that sow and remarks that reap.
quote by Ludwig Wittgenstein
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Duty Remarks
Duty remarks,
Africa! Awake! !
Boom, zoom, loom, room, doom;
With one love, one heart and one peace!
But i don't want the Devil's philosophy around me.
Duty remarks,
Moon, noon, spoon, coon, boon, goon, loon;
Out of your heart to the world around you! !
But you don't need the Devil's philosophy around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Yorick
Hard by an excavated street one sat
In solitary session on the sand;
And ever and anon he spake and spat
And spake again-a yellow skull in hand,
To which that retrospective Pioneer
Addressed the few remarks that follow here:
'Who are you? Did you come 'der blains agross,'
Or 'Horn aroundt'? In days o' '49
Did them thar eye-holes see the Southern Cross
From the Antarctic Sea git up an' shine?
Or did you drive a bull team 'all the way
From Pike,' with Mr. Joseph Bowers?-say!
'Was you in Frisco when the water came
Up to Montgum'ry street? and do you mind
The time when Peters run the faro game
Jim Peters from old Mississip-behind
Wells Fargo's, where he subsequent was bust
By Sandy, as regards both bank and crust?
'I wonder was you here when Casey shot
James King o' William? And did you attend
The neck-tie dance ensuin'? _I_ did not,
But j'ined the rush to Go Creek with my friend
Ed'ard McGowan; for we was resolved
In sech diversions not to be involved.
'Maybe I knowed you; seems to me I've seed
Your face afore. I don't forget a face,
But names I disremember-I'm that breed
Of owls. I'm talking some'at into space
An' maybe my remarks is too derned free,
Seein' yer name is unbeknown to me.
'Ther' was a time, I reckon, when I knowed
Nigh onto every dern galoot in town.
That was as late as '50. Now she's growed
Surprisin'! Yes, me an' my pardner, Brown,
Was wide acquainted. If ther' was a cuss
We didn't know, the cause was-he knowed us.
'Maybe you had that claim adjoinin' mine
Up thar in Calaveras. Was it you
To which Long Mary took a mighty shine,
An' throwed squar' off on Jake the Kangaroo?
I guess if she could see ye now she'd take
Her chance o' happiness along o' Jake.
'You ain't so purty now as you was then:
[...] Read more
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Captain Craig
I
I doubt if ten men in all Tilbury Town
Had ever shaken hands with Captain Craig,
Or called him by his name, or looked at him
So curiously, or so concernedly,
As they had looked at ashes; but a few—
Say five or six of us—had found somehow
The spark in him, and we had fanned it there,
Choked under, like a jest in Holy Writ,
By Tilbury prudence. He had lived his life
And in his way had shared, with all mankind,
Inveterate leave to fashion of himself,
By some resplendent metamorphosis,
Whatever he was not. And after time,
When it had come sufficiently to pass
That he was going patch-clad through the streets,
Weak, dizzy, chilled, and half starved, he had laid
Some nerveless fingers on a prudent sleeve,
And told the sleeve, in furtive confidence,
Just how it was: “My name is Captain Craig,”
He said, “and I must eat.” The sleeve moved on,
And after it moved others—one or two;
For Captain Craig, before the day was done,
Got back to the scant refuge of his bed
And shivered into it without a curse—
Without a murmur even. He was cold,
And old, and hungry; but the worst of it
Was a forlorn familiar consciousness
That he had failed again. There was a time
When he had fancied, if worst came to worst,
And he could do no more, that he might ask
Of whom he would. But once had been enough,
And soon there would be nothing more to ask.
He was himself, and he had lost the speed
He started with, and he was left behind.
There was no mystery, no tragedy;
And if they found him lying on his back
Stone dead there some sharp morning, as they might,—
Well, once upon a time there was a man—
Es war einmal ein König, if it pleased him.
And he was right: there were no men to blame:
There was just a false note in the Tilbury tune—
A note that able-bodied men might sound
Hosannas on while Captain Craig lay quiet.
They might have made him sing by feeding him
Till he should march again, but probably
Such yielding would have jeopardized the rhythm;
They found it more melodious to shout
Right on, with unmolested adoration,
[...] Read more
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!