Quotes about inkling, page 2
Indifference
Indifference is so painful
Like an eye which sees nothing
I do not even
Exist to you
No matter how I prove it
With trembling hands touching you
Or with my Silence fed
Up
Wounds you, punctures
A ventricle
In your heart
You have an inkling of pain
You simply say you
Have myocardial infarction
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I and me and you
I am the redeemer
I will search your soul
to look for all you've given
and seek for all you hold
I will give no quarter
no inkling shall you find
of weakness nor of favour
as I explore your mind
No sympathy nor anger
no pity and no shame
no laughter tears or empathy
no reason to explain
No humour nor no sorrow
no tenderness nor pain
I seek the true epitome
of all that you remain
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poem by Charles M. Moore
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Keeping Things Inside Her....
something inside her is not telling anything
not even to her own mother
perhaps she could have told her husband
to give him a hint of what is really the matter
gorgeous, she wants the word to stay
lovely, lovely her hands sometimes claps
but her whole body says otherwise
it is confused whether to sleep or not
whether to take a walk in the park with a friend
and then tell all, like a child finally sobbing
it is when the rain pours heavily and
there is not any inkling to run for shelter anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grimacing Rain
It was raining and raining for hours nonstop
nobody knows when to go back,
As if it was grimacing in silence like dark night
It may take time to talk again, for a while.
Night may break in to day, hours into minutes
but those silence may not shredded to rain of tears
And that hours of rain was the tears of silence
that rippled into voice of grimacing - protracted.
If I asked to reason out curves of silence
It may cajole to suggest inkling of love provoking-
For the tears fallen in rain, of thosa unbeaten songs
lest silence may censure grimacing.
poem by Dr subhendu kar
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What Sanctity...? ...
T he dawn is part of pattern webs which spin
O ut from the past and not from future fate,
A nd may Time mime, itself anticipate?
C an far horizons scan the span within?
T he wind won’t carry inkling whispers in
O pen echo unfurled in single trait.
R esponse to whom? to what? When? Early? Late?
N ew strength unveiled, by star signs sent to bait
O ne Cause or one Effect, - to end? begin?
T he story feeds from song or need to sing?
O ne’s need to heed the lied, lead on, create
U rgent vistas which can compensate
DRE aded hole inside inside’s dammed spring,
AMA zing grace to help face everything?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Words Fail Me! ! !
I'm waiting for a spark of inspiration
To set my willing hands to tapping keys,
But all I feel is anger and frustration.
I might as well be typing in Chinese.
I've been here hours and still I have no inkling
How to pull the words out of my head.
The stars outside my room are softly twinkling,
And soon I'll have to drag myself to bed.
I cannot seem to form the simplest phrasing,
Let alone the tempo and the rhyme.
I think I might as well try crystal-gazing!
It all seems such a total waste of time!
Oh, well! I'll just give up and go to sleep now.
My pillow calls and I cannot resist.
Sleep's soothing hand feels cool upon my fevered brow,
And there's nothing more to do now but...desist!
poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Paradox
unbelieve, what i have told you.
you like the unbreaking of hearts, you ask for that, and i am going to give in.
unbelieve what i have impressed upon your skin,
a tattoo of a heart with cupid's arrow
bleeding, please, try to remember how
someone has broken your heart
and there i was singing you a love song,
and you say how kind of me to listen to the dripping of your sorrow,
those nights when you only believe about the moon's story,
and there i was singing you a love song,
and you believe me,
unbelieve what i have told you
believe what is now put before your breast
it is the sun and the inkling of the tendril
to a certain bloom
a breaking of day, hands holding on,
in friendship.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As The Whispers When Red
words when whisper
the heart echoes in red
blood when red flints to flow
by the red vain as the fire obstinate
still it glows in red when obsessive
as the rose razzles red in its room
breath eternal when resourced red
the mystic red when whirls in the red wine
passion intense when swaying intoned
evening glows when inkling fell red
lest be tweaking the lips over the red
by the window of glistening red eyes
yet the anger spews its reeks by the red
as geometry of the dew rills betiding red
mist red as happens to happen by the leaf tips
as when twitched by the senses as the stepping red
sun when setting lays its curtain red over the green
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poem by Dr subhendu kar
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In Said Dream
i only have your
body and you had mine
but i never see any
sign
any inkling that you
want to retain
what i give you
there is this secret feeling
inside
that detests what is
happening
there is this wanting to an
ending
that never ends somehow
inside that dream
what sleeps wakes up
again
and my hands meet
the same lovely stranger
the same
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dismal Days
All I know is this:
I am the front guard of the glorious country of my birth,
And over mossy berms grow riots in gourds;
I have forgotten the pleasures of mirth,
Having been on my steed,
Going back and forth along the Ill-defined border, many years;
And I have no inkling of freedom,
Only a gatherer of firewood,
Animal skin hoarder.
The fen freezes from December to April,
Then stinks all the summer long.
One day I came across some trackers,
Who hailed me at a distince,
Asking what border I guarded,
My lance pointed at them.
'Pray you, good sirs, heed my warning! '
But they informed me that my Kingdom was now defunct,
An old dream, an empty path.
Lowering my weapon then, weeping,
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poem by Stan Petrovich
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