Quotes about expand, page 15
Hay-Cutters
Time tells them. They go along touching
the grass, the feathery ends. When it feels
just so, they start the mowing machine,
leaving the land its long windrows,
and air strokes the leaves dry.
Sometimes you begin to push; you want to
hurry the sun, have the hours expand, because
clouds come. Lightning looks out from their hearts.
You try to hope the clouds away.
'Some year we'll have perfect hay.'
poem by William Stafford
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A prospect of death
Death! thou real friend of innocence,
Tho' dreadful unto shivering sense,
I feel my nature tottering o'er
Thy gloomy waves, which loudly roar:
Immense the scene, yet dark the view,
Nor Reason darts her vision thro'.
Virtue! supreme of earthly good,
Oh let thy rays illume the road;
And when dash'd from the precipice,
Keep me from sinking in the seas:
Thy radient wings, then wide expand,
And bear me to celestial land.
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
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Cosmic Candles Wax Poetic
mind melt into sensation
quickening energy elastic
restless vibrations explode
flow river streams waves
seas engulf swallow id ego
current tossed womb liquid
warmth dark surge wordless
muse exists saturated image
void bio bytes expand shape
form breach conception irk
rise fall thought codes case
uni-language mainstreams
heartbeats rebirth melting
poetics birth verse renewal
word script life lit flickers
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The best thing as an actor, the best tool you have is your imagination. That you kind of take things that have happened, and then go and expand on them. However small it is, you use your imagination to create what that reality is. There's something kind of fun when you're not old enough to do anything, driving a car, getting into a bar, drinking, going to a party you don't belong to, something when you're young in that innocent way.
quote by Vince Vaughn
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Underhand Han Hand
For fifty years Han hand has lain
heavy on Lhasa's mountain land,
acting in manner underhand
on peaceful population. Pain
and persecution, thousands slain
on whim, as Chinese thugs expand,
manhandle monasteries, demand
obedience to illegal reign -
discrimination's bridle rein
with basic human freedoms banned,
protests punished out of hand.
Upon collective conscience: Stain!
The Dalai Lama's aging fast
who'll liberate Tibet at last?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Deluded Concepts
Do I care to be rated,
By egos deflated?
I look not for that embrace...
As I search to expand,
And understand my own space.
Some believe they can achieve,
Success in obscurity.
With nothing connected,
To anything objective...
And subjected to a thought process,
No one can perceive.
Enough to believe for mental protest.
But that comes from a mind,
Accustomed to deceive!
A mind that fosters deluded concepts,
Twisted with unseen schemes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sadistic Measures
Reduced to fulfill
A need to expand
Obsessions.
Needs of greeds have succeeded
And feeds egos.
Those untouchable
Fill treasure chests
Making bets they are uncontested.
Followed by those with chants of praise.
As they believe
Meeting and feasting on a buffet of spoils.
And the selected pot boiling their brew breaks!
Spilling sadistic measures enjoyed.
Ruining a fraternal nurturing...
Once highly sought but now internally destroyed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Your grief....
Your grief for what youve lost holds a mirror
up to where you're bravely working.
Expecting the worst, you look and instead,
here's the joyful face youve been wanting to see.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expand
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.
Your grief....
Your grief for what youve lost holds a mirror
up to where you're bravely working.
Expecting the worst, you look and instead,
here's the joyful face youve been wanting to see.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expand
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.
Clauses
Children of stink, cannot smell the rose.
Lithium in their blood
fathers were happy.
Power over the fire of groins,
was a music to ears.
Everything else was secondary.
The wishes squealed
on the mattresses.
Grief was served in the bed.
Big tears flowing
on the cheeks of ice.
Antarctica was crying.
Sexed up vendetta
did not kill a fly.
Bee was hovering over the heads.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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