Quotes about revert, page 3
Tiny dropp of his ocean
God crafted the ocean
as big as the universe,
We are rained here
again as vapour, to revert.
We are droplets of
that large ocean,
Which has endless depth
and endless region;
Which has endless past
and endless future
But we the drops
soon become the vapour.
Many of the droplets
will be lost in sea strand
Many will lost on the way
or soaked in the sand.
[...] Read more
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Offer Me Praise
Offer me praise if you think me a path to join,
If my direction is a doubtful being then revert to the actions.
Offending me is to trip and fall, yet falling is wrong,
For when one deceives it is due to lack of thought.
The straight line is a motion of the right mind,
Acceleration comes from important men,
Who acquire piety and holiness, and who matter.
The motion of a kingdom and a king is special
Now that the commoners walk the planet.
My praise is stammering due to the planet
As a world of difficulty, for the forces are uttered
By the tongue of the heart, the very real effect I achieve.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Love Sonnet 176 Of Sweet Moments We Make Remembrances
Of sweet moments we make remembrances,
Such that by time the love object departs,
We will be left reminiscing glances,
Of times in which we have indulged our hearts;
For hardly last the charm of fleeting things:
The kiss, the butterfly, or the rainbow;
And in adversity, know what this brings:
Tears; emptiness and sorrow are in stow;
Parting pushes dreams much further apart,
And chasm made in between, much too wide,
For spanning bridge of hope, to even start,
Given scanty threads memories provide;
......As my todays revert to histories,
......Not one of yours adds to my memories.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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When in Doubt (SHOUT!)
One worries about some misguided fool will taking your words out of context.
Let my artistic work not be a banner to wave.
For I do not wish one to thrust them selves into darkness.
But content is read, and given certain dues.
By those who represent you.
So when you see something needs to be advised of its meaning.
They edit and revert to original.
Why befuddled?
Again I don't understand.
Not the first time, or last time.
I have no rebuttal.
For they don't even answer me.
Yet they put me up front.
I guess I have attitude problems.
We all have our issues to worked out.
I will solve mine sooner or later.
When in doubt (SHOUT!) .
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The day of Remembrance
such pleasant weather, wave of air invigorating the earth
a perfect time to write few lines n i wrote
breeze touches the flower and fragrance of nature, shower
I m missing the one who used to be my lover
I remember when I used to walk with her
had lovely talk with her
face of the weather used to be the same
when we used to play hide n seek game
It was deliberated when she used to say in her delicate voice 'i love u'
so exquisite feeling was that when it revert my heart 'i love u too'
today resembles the same day of remembrance
when we hadn't had postliminary existence
still feels demeanor of love in air
but like the other day she isn't here.
poem by Sangharsh Dongre
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Writing The Book I Never Wrote(for Linda)
Pocket notebook
full of poems
written with a green
fountain pen
(in purple ink)
with a calligraphic flourish
left out in
the storm.
The words
run wild
go native
revert to being
just lines
[...] Read more
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Machiavelli's Pussycat
My cat sang a song to the bird at the glass
Expressed his desire of making minds meet
My cat made a promise of making time pass
With most sincere cluckings and warblings discreet
My cat did insist he'd fulfill early prophets
And lavishly praised both the lion and lamb
Who would lie down together, not at all specieist,
Without even bringing a pot of mint jam
My cat espoused visions of fauna in unity,
My cat went to London to visit the Queen,
But all gang agley when wee mouse came to high tea
Tooth and claw preferred redness to diplomacy.
Pussycat, pussycat, why must you revert so,
Following these most uncivilized drives?
'Master, humanity taught me no better,
At least I myself don't believe my own lies.'
poem by Andrew Apel
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In The Evening
I
In the evening of our days,
When the first far stars above
Glimmer dimmer, through the haze,
Than the dewy eyes of love,
Shall we mournfully revert
To the vanished morns and Mays
Of our youth, with hearts that hurt,--
In the evening of our days?
II
Shall the hand that holds your own
Till the twain are thrilled as now,
Be withheld, or colder grown?
Shall my kiss upon your brow
Falter from its high estate?
And, in all forgetful ways,
[...] Read more
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Proof Is In The Life I Have Led
The proof is in the life I have led, through adversity
That most only read about in books-all this happened to me:
I have lived every Father's worst nightmare,
Suffered indignities that I could catalog, yet would never dare;
I have died, literally, of a broken heart-
And through it all, I only ever wished to impart
That there is but one right and one wrong-
Truth, in spite of all, is the only right-only the truly strong
Can stay Faithful at all times to verity, in spite of ignorance:
It takes Faith to move mountains to maintain such diligence;
Whatever it takes, apparently I have it in abundance,
Where others simply revert to to lies, and acquiescence
To the wants of others, in spite of their own desires;
This is the grief of their own heart, and all it truly admires!
-Maurice Harris,23 February 2012
poem by Maurice Harris
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An Epitaph [Here lies Greer Harrison, a well cracked louse]
Here lies Greer Harrison, a well cracked louse
So small a tenant of so big a house!
He joyed in fighting with his eyes (his fist
Prudently pendent from a peaceful wrist)
And loved to loll on the Parnassian mount,
His pen to suck and all his thumbs to count,
What poetry he'd written but for lack
Of skill, when he had counted, to count back!
Alas, no more he'll climb the sacred steep
To wake the lyre and put the world to sleep!
To his rapt lip his soul no longer springs
And like a jaybird from a knot-hole sings.
No more the clubmen, pickled with his wine,
Spread wide their ears and hiccough 'That's divine!'
The genius of his purse no longer draws
The pleasing thunders of a paid applause.
All silent now, nor sound nor sense remains,
Though riddances of worms improve his brains.
All his no talents to the earth revert,
And Fame concludes the record: 'Dirt to dirt!'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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