Quotes about legible, page 2
Poetry of Payal Parande
I ask myself, 'How can I paint a sunset
with black ink on a white piece of paper? '
'How can I see through your eyes
when I've never seen you before? '
'How can I be heartfelt when I know not where? '
What I know is anklets in Hindi:
A city in Punjab, district of Ludhiana
64 temples in Mugal times
P...and Payal Parande
A...Abiding, Academe, Agnomen
Abluted, Abubble, Affined
[...] Read more
poem by Midnights Voice
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Arrows of Word: Projectiles In Time
My arrows travel deep into the night,
piercing frescoes of thought at dawn
Travel further, they shall, these shattered shards,
to intone lethargic delirium at midday
Now slow down as eventide comes to claim
spent worth of carrion's goods
from my weary eyes, the bow
Still the journey be far from over
Move on
Into the abysses of needless dissection
of day's measure spread, into happenings too wide to be read
But will prove legible in days to come
And with that,
its cycle completed
Arrow returns from target to bow
Only to be spent again,
to tread the time line of another day.
[...] Read more
poem by Abhimanyu Raman
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Paschal
Easter was the old North
Goddess of the dawn.
She rises daily in the East
And yearly in spring for the great
Paschal candle of the sun.
Her name lingers like a spot
Of gravy in the figured vestment
Of the language of the Britains.
Her totem the randy bunny.
Our very Thursdays and Wednesdays
Are stained by syllables of thunder
And Woden's frenzy.
O my fellow-patriots loyal to this
Our modern world of high heels,
Vaccination, brain surgery—
May they pass over us, the old
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Pinsky
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Glowworm
Beneath the hedge or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray,
That shows by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.
Disputes have been and still prevail
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.
But this is sure,--the hand of might
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light,
Proportion'd to his size.
Perhaps indulgent Nature meant
By such a lamp bestow'd,
To bid the traveller, as he went,
Be careful where he trod;
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
To know just how He suffered—would be dear
622
To know just how He suffered—would be dear—
To know if any Human eyes were near
To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze—
Until it settle broad—on Paradise—
To know if He was patient—part content—
Was Dying as He thought—or different—
Was it a pleasant Day to die—
And did the Sunshine face his way—
What was His furthest mind—Of Home—or God—
Or what the Distant say—
At news that He ceased Human Nature
Such a Day—
And Wishes—Had He Any—
Just His Sigh—Accented—
Had been legible—to Me—
[...] Read more
poem by Emily Dickinson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Scribbles Transcribed
Some write for glory and for fame.
I write because I am obsessed
and wordplay is my favourite game.
I concentrate on poetry
Because I find it to my taste
and pass my time creatively.
I could not sit and watch T.V
and live my life vicariously.
That would drive me to insanity.
I have a wide vocabulary
which I love to exercise
Harmless but it amuses me.
What better way to pass the time
than writing formal poetry
I do not find it hard to rhyme
I’ll never be a household name
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
On The Bible
Behold this little volume here inrolde:
'Tis the Almighty's present to the world:
Hearken earth's earth; each sencelesse thing can heare
His Maker's thunder, though it want an eare:
God's word is senior to his works, nay rather
If rightly weigh'd the world may call it father;
God spake, 'twas done; this great foundation
Is the Creator's Exhalation
Breath'd out in speaking. The best work of man
Is better than his word; but if wee scanne
God's word aright, his works far short doe fall;
The word is God, the works are creatures all.
The sundry peeces of this generall frame
Are dimmer letters, all which spell the same
Eternal word; But these cannot expresse
His greatnesse with such easy readinesse,
And therefore yeild. The Heavens shall pass away,
The sun and moone and stars shall all obey
To light one general bonfire; but his word,
His builder-upp, his all-destroying sworde,
[...] Read more
poem by William Strode
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Dramatic Fragment
'Fie upon't!
All men are false, I think. The date of love
Is out, expired, its stories all grown stale,
O'erpast, forgotten, like an antique tale
Of Hero and Leander.'
-John Woodvil
All are not false. I knew a youth who died
For grief, because his Love proved so,
And married with another.
I saw him on the wedding-day,-
For he was present in the church that day,
In festive bravery decked,
As one that came to grace the ceremony,-
I marked him when the ring was given:
His Countenance never changed;
And, when the priest pronounced the marriage blessing,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
THE TOMB OF THE SAINTS... [A Visit To The Catacombs]
Visited the Tomb of the Saints last week
At the catacombs, beneath blackened soil
Cracked cobblestone, its entry path
Outer walls wrapped, in pea-green moss
Ancient must grabs you by the throat
Coats your lungs like the Takla Makan
Yet, two-thousand years of ashened mire
Ne're waver curious minds, from visiting
Canonized souls, within hallowed walls
It's cellared cold dampness, chilling your marrow
And, the warmest days, cool your blood, and brow
Centuries of Godliness, imbedded, like stonehenge
Walk deep inside its sacred womb...explore
Touch the countless stoneheads one by one
Each crypt a storied tale beyond its epitaph
Tales of martyrdom, aberration....miracles confirmed
Read, the etched carvings 'tween aged crosslines
Remind yourself as to who they were
Before they stood before you here, in silent sainthood
[...] Read more
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The River! The River!
Young woman in old clothes,
looking far past her age,
sits nervously prattling to herself -
at a square presed-wood table,
imbrued by dark ink,
engraved in chicken scratch
obscene, tho', barely legible,
within the wood-grooved
whose splinters obscure -
a clean, clear view.
Then, of course there were,
the hand-happy wood slammers
purging their confetti
of manic emotions
within the un-holy confinds
of a stenched, human bandbox,
quite mundungus and fullsome, in kind.
She has witnessed insideous horror,
[...] Read more
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!