Citatepedia^®.com

Peace Is A Noun And It Performs A Verb.

peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peac e
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
pea ce
peace
peace
peace

peace

peace

peace
peace perform a verb and at the same time, it is a noun.

poem by Nyein Way
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Noun Song

There are many types of different nouns
Plurals, possessives, and compounds
But today we are doing specific nouns
Listen first then sing it around!

This is the noun song
This is the noun song
Listen first then sing along
Listen first then sing along
This is the noun song
This is the noun song
Come on guys let's sing along
Come on guys let's sing along

Possessives are nouns that belong to you
Let's see what you can do
The more you use them the more you got
So come on now give it a shot!

FOR PLURAL:

The students' don't have any homework!
Apostrophe after s or it doesn't work!

FOR SINGULAR:

The student's dog ate his book!
S after apostrophe hey just look!
Dude this isn't a lie,
So come on now give it a try!

This is the noun song
This is the noun song
Listen first then sing along
Listen first then sing along
This is the noun song
This is the noun song
We'll sing it all day long
Come on guys let's sing along

Two words together is a contraction
Let me see, What's your reaction?
What's, let's, don't, can't,
You can do it,
YES YOU CAN! ! !

This is the noun song
This is the noun song
Come on guys just sing along

[...] Read more

poem by Mystykka Mysterious
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Grammar Lesson

A noun's a thing. A verb's the thing it does.
An adjective is what describes the noun.
In "The can of beets is filled with purple fuzz"

of and with are prepositions. The's
an article, a can's a noun,
a noun's a thing. A verb's the thing it does.

A can can roll - or not. What isn't was
or might be, might meaning not yet known.
"Our can of beets is filled with purple fuzz"

is present tense. While words like our and us
are pronouns - i.e. it is moldy, they are icky brown.
A noun's a thing; a verb's the thing it does.

Is is a helping verb. It helps because
filled isn't a full verb. Can's what our owns
in "Our can of beets is filled with purple fuzz."

See? There's almost nothing to it. Just
memorize these rules...or write them down!
A noun's a thing, a verb's the thing it does.
The can of beets is filled with purple fuzz.

poem by Steve Kowit
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Verbs v. nouns

Nouns…
they’re dead things; names
you give to things to render them
immobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothing
except scrapheaps, museums, dictionaries, armchairs;

but they make you feel good;
you have control over their world;
you don’t have to think about them any more;
they’re all locked up safe in your collecting-box,
the noun for which is head:

you can sound important with nouns:
this government’s raft of measures
for fiscal stimulation of the economy

but verbs… ah, verbs!
you can’t own them, push them about,
collect them, be important about them;
they own themselves;

they’re outdoor words: going about their
lawful business, doing what they're best at,
measuring their own life as they work;
adapting themselves to what needs to be done
which nouns can’t do without a committee
and then it’s too late; happy
to be themselves, being; even
being while they’re doing.. don't you wish
you were a verb?

Nature – (that’s a verb, by the way,
not a noun) – is all verbs; evolution
is a verb (not a theory):
DNA’s a verb – you can’t own it
like a noun…it doesn’t even
want to own you…

so, be a child – put your boots on,
run, splash, shout look at all those verbs;
how bright the world, what fun,
nothing to put in your pocket to take home

(or if you do, it’ll change to a noun, your noun,
in your pocket, in your drawer, gathering dust:
verbs don’t have the time to gather dust…)

verbs are for observing; verbs are for
seeing for the first time; wow! Verbs are for
inventors, explorers, tree-climbing,

[...] Read more

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

A Time To Feel Forlorn and Reconstruct What's Torn

There's a designated time in the universe for everything:

A time to limit, a time to expand.
A time to rise, time to lower and lend a hand.

A time to maintain, a time to abandon.
A time to develop, a time to rest at random.

A time to communicate, a time for silence.
A time to kiss your enemy, a time to concede wins.

A time to spite, a time to please.
A time for respite, a time to tease.

A time to process, a time to confess.
A time to do more. A time to do less.

A time to dominate. A time to captivate.
A time to plunge. A time to resurface straight.

A time to maximise. A time to minimise.
A time to diminish. A time to optimise.

A time to sacrifice. time to insist on rights.
A time to be selfish. A time to be concerned about plights.

A time to be big. A time to be small.
A time to care for a special one. A time to love all.

A time to add dimension. A time to simplify.
A time to advocate egalitarianism.
A time to exult.
A time to default.
A time to be accepting of imperfect humanism.

A time to enhance. A time to simplify.
A time to criticise. A time to dignify.

A time to produce. A time to use.
A time to relent. A time to refuse.

A time to demand. A time to give.
A time to die. a time to live.

A time to survive. A time to admit defeat.
A time to lie. A time to walk on your feet.

A time to compete. A time to not.
A time to remember. A time to concede you forgot.

[...] Read more

poem by Hercolena Oliver
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

From, Thinking and Love!

From to....
Thinking......
Love! ! ! Someone!
This is a powerful verb!
Needs no preposition.
Love! Ready.
Without one, you can also.
They say someone is better
But it can be alone!
He fulfills his role well!
LOVE only when coupled
Loving Someone!
You can not love this, this, this......
You can not love My, Your, Our......
You can only LOVE! in You, for You
There you can!
Then, combine!

Jealous that Verb!

But it also has another verb.
What comes after the LOVE!
Think!
Thinking requires.... something that, in my, in yours, in our!
You also think.... From the Other!
Thinking all is wanting!

At that point! In this combination!
The love does not tolerate such a preposition

Demanding that verb!

Then comes the

FROM!
Birth from thee!
Because you began putting together The Love

and finished with The Think!

Painful this verb!

poem by Mirna Morgan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fra Lippo Lippi

I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave!
You need not clap your torches to my face.
Zooks, what's to blame? you think you see a monk!
What, 'tis past midnight, and you go the rounds,
And here you catch me at an alley's end
Where sportive ladies leave their doors ajar?
The Carmine's my cloister: hunt it up,
Do—harry out, if you must show your zeal,
Whatever rat, there, haps on his wrong hole,
And nip each softling of a wee white mouse,
Weke, weke, that's crept to keep him company!
Aha, you know your betters! Then, you'll take
Your hand away that's fiddling on my throat,
And please to know me likewise. Who am I?
Why, one, sir, who is lodging with a friend
Three streets off—he's a certain...how d'ye call?
Master—a...Cosimo of the Medici,
I' the house that caps the corner. Boh! you were best!
Remember and tell me, the day you're hanged,
How you affected such a gullet's gripe!
But you, sir, it concerns you that your knaves
Pick up a manner nor discredit you:
Zooks, are we pilchards, that they sweep the streets
And count fair prize what comes into this net?
He's Judas to a tittle, that man is!
Just such a face! Why, sir, you make amends.
Lord, I'm not angry! Bid your hangdogs go
Drink out this quarter-florin to the health
Of the munificent House that harbors me
(And many more beside, lads! more beside!)
And all's come square again. I'd like his face—
His, elbowing on his comrade in the door
With the pike and lantern—for the slave that holds
John Baptist's head a-dangle by the hair
With one hand ("Look you, now," as who should say)
And his weapon in the other, yet unwiped!
It's not your chance to have a bit of chalk,
A wood-coal or the like? or you should see!
Yes, I'm the painter, since you style me so.
What, brother Lippo's doings, up and down,
You know them and they take you? like enough!
I saw the proper twinkle in your eye—
'Tell you, I liked your looks at very first.
Let's sit and set things straight now, hip to haunch.
Here's spring come, and the nights one makes up bands
To roam the town and sing out carnival,
And I've been three weeks shut within my mew,
A-painting for the great man, saints and saints
And saints again. I could not paint all night—
Ouf! I leaned out of window for fresh air.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sir Hornbook

I.

O'er bush and briar Childe Launcelot sprung
With ardent hopes elate,
And loudly blew the horn that hung
Before Sir Hornbook's gate.

The inner portals opened wide,
And forward strode the chief,
Arrayed in paper helmet's pride,
And arms of golden leaf.

--"What means,"--he cried,--"This daring noise,
That wakes the summer day?
I hate all idle truant boys:
Away, Sir Childe, away!"--

--"No idle, truant boy am I,"--
Childe Launcelot answered straight;
--"Resolved to climb this hill so high,
I seek thy castle gate.

"Behold the talisman I bear,
And aid my bold design:"--
Sir Hornbook gazed, and written there,
Knew Emulation's sign.

"If Emulation sent thee here,"
Sir Hornbook quick replied,
"My merrymen all shall soon appear,
To aid thy cause with shield and spear,
And I will head thy bold career,
And prove thy faithful guide."--

Loud rung the chains; the drawbridge fell;
The gates asunder flew:
The knight thrice beat the portal bell,
And thrice he call'd "Halloo."

And out, and out, in hasty rout,
By ones, twos, threes, and fours;
His merrymen rush'd the walls without,
And stood before the doors.

II.

Full six and twenty men were they,
In line of battle spread:
The first that came was mighty A,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Love Peacock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Semantics Of Animal Objectification

to bag: verb for to kill a deer or other animal
to harvest: verb for to kill an elk or other animal
cull: a 3rd verb for murdering animals
thin the herd: phrase for murdering animals
pork: objectivist term for subdivided murdered pigs
beef.: objectivist term for subdivided murdered cows
mutton: objectivist term for subdivided murdered sheep
veal: objectivist term for a baby cow's murdered flesh
pate: objectivist term for the smashed livers of tortured geese
The word bovine is struck from tuberculosis to obscure
the disease causing nature of cows' milk
Kine Pox or Cow Pox: changed to smallpox to obscure
the eating of cowflesh as an origin of the disease
Wool Sorters' Disease.. changed to anthrax
study: verb for kidnapping, torturing and murdering lab animals
pith: to shove a needle into the brain of a living frog
field dress: to remove the skin from a mammal, pull out his
intestines etc.
stock market: term for many corporations invested in animal
and people slaughter

clear: to murder many trees
pluck: to kill a flower
mow: to decapitate dandelions, shred sapling trees

poem by Anna Hridaya
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Splitting Infinitives

Chief Justice Roberts hates to split
infinitives, and boldly goes
towards the future without wit,
his path as prim as that prim rose
that once Polonius boldly took,
advising Hamlet not to dally.
The Constitution almost shook
when he refused to shilly-shally,
and tried to wander in a way
that was unfaithful to the text
the oath of office. The next day
the problem was resolved, and now,
Queen’s English and our own unregal
language must agree that splitting
of infinitives is legal,
although pedantically unfitting,
since we’ve a President who swore
appropriately, and a Justice
who like Polonius is a bore
and clearly just as dry as dust is.

Inspired by Stephen Pinker’s Op-Ed article in the NYT, January 22,2009, appropriately titled “Oaf of Office, ” commenting on the fiasco created by Chief Justice Roberts when administering the oath of office to President Obama according togrammatical rules that conflict with the original text of the oath:
In 1969, Neil Armstrong appeared to have omitted an indefinite article as he stepped onto the moon and left earthlings puzzled over the difference between “man” and “mankind.” In 1980, Jimmy Carter, accepting his party’s nomination, paid homage to a former vice president he called Hubert Horatio Hornblower. A year later, Diana Spencer reversed the first two names of her betrothed in her wedding vows, and thus, as Prince Charles Philip supposedly later joked, actually married his father. On Tuesday, Chief Justice John Roberts joined the Flubber Hall of Fame when he administered the presidential oath of office apparently without notes. Instead of having Barack Obama “solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of president of the United States, ” Chief Justice Roberts had him “solemnly swear that I will execute the office of president to the United States faithfully.” When Mr. Obama paused after “execute, ” the chief justice prompted him to continue with “faithfully the office of president of the United States.” (To ensure that the president was properly sworn in, the chief justice re-administered the oath Wednesday evening.)
How could a famous stickler for grammar have bungled that 35-word passage, among the best-known words in the Constitution? Conspiracy theorists and connoisseurs of Freudian slips have surmised that it was unconscious retaliation for Senator Obama’s vote against the chief justice’s confirmation in 2005. But a simpler explanation is that the wayward adverb in the passage is blowback from Chief Justice Roberts’s habit of grammatical niggling. Language pedants hew to an oral tradition of shibboleths that have no basis in logic or style, that have been defied by great writers for centuries, and that have been disavowed by every thoughtful usage manual. Nonetheless, they refuse to go away, perpetuated by the Gotcha! Gang and meekly obeyed by insecure writers. Among these fetishes is the prohibition against “split verbs, ” in which an adverb comes between an infinitive marker like “to, ” or an auxiliary like “will, ” and the main verb of the sentence. According to this superstition, Captain Kirk made a grammatical error when he declared that the five-year mission of the starship Enterprise was “to boldly go where no man has gone before”; it should have been “to go boldly.” Likewise, Dolly Parton should not have declared that “I will always love you” but “I always will love you” or “I will love you always.”
Any speaker who has not been brainwashed by the split-verb myth can sense that these corrections go against the rhythm and logic of English phrasing. The myth originated centuries ago in a thick-witted analogy to Latin, in which it is impossible to split an infinitive because it consists of a single word, like dicere, “to say.” But in English, infinitives like “to go” and future-tense forms like “will go” are two words, not one, and there is not the slightest reason to interdict adverbs from the position between them.
Though the ungrammaticality of split verbs is an urban legend, it found its way into The Texas Law Review Manual on Style, which is the arbiter of usage for many law review journals. James Lindgren, a critic of the manual, has found that many lawyers have “internalized the bogus rule so that they actually believe that a split verb should be avoided, ” adding, “The Invasion of the Body Snatchers has succeeded so well that many can no longer distinguish alien speech from native speech.” In his legal opinions, Chief Justice Roberts has altered quotations to conform to his notions of grammaticality, as when he excised the “ain’t” from Bob Dylan’s line “When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose.” On Tuesday his inner copy editor overrode any instincts toward strict constructionism and unilaterally amended the Constitution by moving the adverb “faithfully” away from the verb. President Obama, whose attention to language is obvious in his speeches and writings, smiled at the chief justice’s hypercorrection, then gamely repeated it. Let’s hope that during the next four years he will always challenge dogma and boldly lead the nation in new directions.

1/22/09

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

Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Impossible and the Possible.

Poem Title: The struggle to overcome the difference between the Impossible and the Possible
Acrostic Poem 166a

The struggle to overcome the difference between the impossible and the possible.
Hope being the word that springs to mind to link these two opposites to attract.
Eternally wandering Cyber space side by side hooking onto every adjective or verb.

Seeking Impossible causes to take away excuses and make them once more possible.
To overcome the bigoted, blind, self centred mind set of the un-believers.
Reaching corners of the mind that you of Christian or Muslim Faith never thought existed.
Unless you have spent all your life on earth in a cocoon not within real time.
God has chosen you to teach the differences between the Impossible and Possible.
Given that if at first you don`t succeed... You`ll get it right next time.
Love for all your Fellow Men and Women may seem Impossible. Trust me it`s the only way.
Every possibility, has been at sometime within it`s life...seemed Impossible.

Take the making of a silk purse from one sows ear. If you will
Or the finding of a needle in a hay-stack or the abolition of third world hunger and the like.

Or the creation of the Love of Nation unto Nation... The end to all War or domination
Very nearly every single problem has a solution, indeed sometimes many solutions do exist.
Electricity, how unbelievable to the even the wisest man once upon a time thought “impossible”
Radio waves converted into the sweetest sounds ever heard by mortal Man
Communication instant Chat across the Globe in real time ….one to one...”Impossible”
Of loving commitment between different creeds and cultures without ever meeting possible.
Mighty soon God will look down on earth and see the two words rolled into one!
Entreating the Impossible always Possible and the Possible never Impossible.

The struggle to overcome the difference between the Impossible and the Possible.
Holy Holy Holy, Eureka, Glory be! We are getting there, I do believe I really do believe.
Eternally where two Poets or more can get together to speak as one, in one Like-minded.

Difference between the Impossible and the Possible are reduced to nil
In practical terms every metaphor, rhetoric, noun or verb or adjective can be polished.
From the most impossible dream into the possible reality of the finest prose ever written.
From the dullest of dyslectic mutterings to the most flowery of sweetest love songs.
Endlessly tripping from the lips of stranger meeting stranger, wisest verse ever heard.
Re-acting opposites attracting the Impossible with the Possible. Judge for yourselves.
Enacting with the humble Poet that composed this message. You may never chance to meet.
Never in a Thousand years of trying, these chances, sure don't happen every day.
Catch the Impossible catch on the very boundaries of your mind to make a difference.
Every chance that one single catch will win your team the Game.

By making then the Impossible Possible, you have changed in one action the life you have.
Every Impossible thought can then be dismissed from your mind possibly forever
The sun to leave the sky, the rivers all run dry, a baby not to cry ….Impossible.
We have that song within our mind, which keeps our feet upon the ground
Every now and then to be able to accept that all things are not Possible.

[...] Read more

poem by Philip Winchester
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Turn! Turn! Turn!

Pete seeger
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of peace, I swear its not too late
Original source
To every thing there is a season, and a time
To every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time
To plant, and a time to pluck up that which is
Planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to
Break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time
To mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to
Gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a
Time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to
Keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to
Keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of
War, and a time of peace.

song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

336

the main entry
of course in tonight’s activity
is the
crotch

I like it as a noun
And will always
Be itself a
Very hot noun

They say it
Might probably be an
Alteration
Of a crutch

In 1563
It was a pole with a forked end
A prop of old men

Actually as we see it
A crotch
Is just an angle formed by
The parting of two legs

This is the one
That I like best
An image of parting legs
Now this becomes
My favorite verb: parting.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

This Time

Lookin back on my life
Lookin back on my life
You know that all I see
You know that all I see
Are things I couldve changed
Are things I couldve changed
I should have done
I should have done
Where did the good times go?
Where did the good times go?
Good times so hard to hold
Good times so hard to hold
This time, this time
This time, this time
This time Im gonna find
This time Im gonna find
Lookin back on my life
You know that all I see
Lookin back on my life
Are things I couldve changed
You know that all I see
I could have done
Are things I couldve changed
No time for sad lament
I could have done
A wasted life is bitter spent
No time for sad lament
A wasted life is bitter spent
So rise into the light
In or out of time
Gonna rise straight through the light
So rise into the light
In or out of time
In or out of time
Gonna rise straight through the light
Woke up one other day
In or out of time
The pain wont go away
I am growing
In peculiar ways
Woke up one other day
Into a light I pass
The pain wont go away
Another dream, another trance
I am growing
This time, this time
In peculiar ways
This time Im gonna rise into the light
Into a light I pass
In or out of time

[...] Read more

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

Conjugating

I conjugate the verb to be:
miracle sentences;

non-existent one moment
then coming into Being
utterly unique the next;

perhaps never before
uttered
in all of existence
before this
moment,
on this page
at this time
from this mind.

Miracle this,
shared by all of us.

I conjugate the verb Coming into Being
from Potentialities of Being
trolling for words not yet extent

having some portion of Being
but not yet born
on Poet Pages.

I conjugate the verb Now Being Born
words coupling in sentences
flowing down
forming paragraphs
couplets, rhymes,
emotional hieroglyphics,
history,
Ideas
and glifs,
and then they
are on to Being Past.

In single verbs
we lash together
all Being;

that which is Now Born on pages,
that which was written yesterday

and those word-stories
we borrow
from future sentences
yet to be born

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Interim

The room is full of you!—As I came in
And closed the door behind me, all at once
A something in the air, intangible,
Yet stiff with meaning, struck my senses sick!—

Sharp, unfamiliar odors have destroyed
Each other room's dear personality.
The heavy scent of damp, funereal flowers,—
The very essence, hush-distilled, of Death—
Has strangled that habitual breath of home
Whose expiration leaves all houses dead;
And wheresoe'er I look is hideous change.
Save here. Here 'twas as if a weed-choked gate
Had opened at my touch, and I had stepped
Into some long-forgot, enchanted, strange,
Sweet garden of a thousand years ago
And suddenly thought, "I have been here before!"

You are not here. I know that you are gone,
And will not ever enter here again.
And yet it seems to me, if I should speak,
Your silent step must wake across the hall;
If I should turn my head, that your sweet eyes
Would kiss me from the door.—So short a time
To teach my life its transposition to
This difficult and unaccustomed key!—
The room is as you left it; your last touch—
A thoughtless pressure, knowing not itself
As saintly—hallows now each simple thing;
Hallows and glorifies, and glows between
The dust's grey fingers like a shielded light.

There is your book, just as you laid it down,
Face to the table,—I cannot believe
That you are gone!—Just then it seemed to me
You must be here. I almost laughed to think
How like reality the dream had been;
Yet knew before I laughed, and so was still.
That book, outspread, just as you laid it down!
Perhaps you thought, "I wonder what comes next,
And whether this or this will be the end";
So rose, and left it, thinking to return.

Perhaps that chair, when you arose and passed
Out of the room, rocked silently a while
Ere it again was still. When you were gone
Forever from the room, perhaps that chair,
Stirred by your movement, rocked a little while,
Silently, to and fro...

[...] Read more

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

There Is No Time

This is no time for celebration
This is no time for shaking heads
This is no time for backslapping
This is no time for marching bands
This is no time for optimism
This is no time for endless thought
This is no time for my country right or wrong
Remember what that brought
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time for congratulations
This is no time to turn your back
This is no time for circumlocution
This is no time for learned speech
This is no time to count your blessings
This is no time for private gain
This is no time to put up or shut up
It wont no time to come back this way again
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time to swallow anger
This is no time to ignore hate
This is no time to be acting frivolous
Because the time is getting late
This is no time for private vendettas
This is no time to not know who you are
Self knowledge is a dangerous thing
The freedom of who you are
This is no time to ignore warnings
This is no time to clear the plate
Lets not be sorry after the fact
And let the past become out fate
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
There is no time
This is no time to turn away and drink
Or smoke some vials of crack
This is a time to gather force
And take dead aim and attack
This is no time for celebration
This is no time for saluting flags
This is no time for inner searchings
The future is at head
This is no time for phony rhetoric
This is no time for political speech

[...] Read more

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Selfe's Grammar: a sonnet in the style of George Herbert

O Lord: my dearmost Selfe – why need I name Thee?
Whom I need not call - forever near;
O Lord: my wholest Selfe – what grammar speak Thee,
who art Word and Speech, and Mouth and Ear;

Thou art not circumscribed by any Noun,
that any but Thyself hath speech to say;
nor Pronoun Thou – who art both I and Thee
and He and She and every It and They;

All Verbs Thou art; and every verb, Thy act;
and yet, Thy Stillness knows no verb that moves;
no Adjective may praise Thee as Thou art;
no Adverb tell how Thy Love constant proves;

O Lord, my whole dear Selfe: my silent prayer
may speak the louder; Thy sweet Stillness share.

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

Sensitive Selfless Scribe's Shorthand Script Successfully Shows Superb Syllabic Stanza Susurration

Kindly refer to Notes
-------
SENSITIVE SELFLESS SCRIBE'S SHORTHAND SCRIPT SUCCESSFULLY SHOWS SUPERB SYLLABIC STANZA SUSURRATION
Stanza stanza swift succeeding
seldom static, subtly speeding
serried series, saccharinic,
sentences scarce schizophrenic.

Sentences scarce schizophrenic,
salvos sparkle, sagenitic,
succulent succession seeding
stanza stanza swift succeeding.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding
serenade sauteed spoonfeeding
special scansion ‘S’ syllabic,
sentences scarce schizophrenic.

Sentences scarce schizophrenic
solo solves sound stream, strabismic
seeker sees successful screeding
stanza stanza swift succeeding.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding.
syntax sense spurns stale subbreeding
shedding sorrow syphilitic,
sentences scarce schizophrenic.

Sentences scarce schizophrenic,
salvoes sparkle sagenitic,
selfless scribe’s script seldom skeeding,
stanza stanza swift succeeding.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding
scatter satire chickenfeeding
subharmonic synchronistic
sentences scarce schizophrenic.

Sentences scarce schizophrenic,
sagely swirl substantives scenic
steadfastly serene crossbreeding
stanza stanza swift succeeding.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding,
sinless scintillating reading,
sotto voce suave systemic
sentences scarce schizophrenic.

Sentences scarce schizophrenic,
supercalifragilistic,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!