Tag: truth
group name: thepoetryreview
|
May 19, 2008 12:30 AM EDT --
I published one or two at a time on Snippets but want it to appear one time as a whole.
It was presented to my teen age philosophy club to teach them that TRUTH is the key to every problem whether . . . more
|
|
January 20, 2008 08:05 PM EST --
It Matters Not...
© copyright Jan 19, 2008 By M. Emmett Townsend
It matters not thatyou know of it...
If matters not ifscientists have not discovered . . . more
|
|
November 16, 2007 11:54 AM EST --
I’m an observer, and I don’t miss much
I watch, and I wait for the cream to rise to the top
As it always does
The loudest voices are generally not the wisest
They often . . . more
|
|
April 11, 2008 11:59 AM EDT --
Deep inside shattered dreams,
tucked behind
ripped out seams
of disrepair... . . . more
|
|
April 27, 2008 04:59 PM EDT --
Down by the river,
A graceful and beautiful
Current is passing by with
A message of remembrance
Turning down an alley,
Caught in a cross fire
Shadows gathered
To watch the rise . . . more
|
|
May 03, 2008 11:52 AM EDT --
I wrote this as an aid for little ones that have been molested to feel free to admit the truth. (I had a child in mind at the time.) I tried to speak to some of their doubts . . . more
|
|
April 30, 2008 12:10 AM EDT --
Once I rediscovered
my heart an entire lifetime
listening to unknown voices
drifting slowly to an abyss
Drawn by shades
caught in the rain
against splendid breeze, . . . more
|
|
March 09, 2008 02:42 PM EST --
Perfection's lunacy lives...
In sidewalk cracks
where weeds take root,
In pots with cracks
where . . . more
|
|
October 01, 2007 04:47 AM EDT --
Little man, barefoot boy with cheeks of tan
Looking through an hourglass made for you
Where dreams seeking promises start to brew
As you raft mighty river speaking truth
Pencil in each . . . more
|
|
October 30, 2007 10:00 PM EST --
Good Evening Gather,
It is my pleasure to share a short poem with you. Another one of my favorites. Do you remember Sir Walter Scott's warning; "O, what a tangled web we weave . . . more
|
|
September 05, 2007 03:29 PM EDT --
See the bright petals!
Peace accompanies their truth--
Sweet, fragrant flowers.
Copyright 2007 Jim Ross
more
|
|
February 04, 2008 09:02 AM EST --
I open to you like a flower blooming,
unveiling a beauty
even I do not recognize.
Who is this women before you?
You wash over me
and the layers fall away;
I no longer recognize who . . . more
|
|
September 23, 2008 04:27 PM EDT --
I've picked place and spot for conscious conversation
On this common day where sun and clouds engage
Senses tasting epilogues in dusty particles
Enriching a sky half-full of emptiness . . . more
|
|
October 05, 2007 04:44 PM EDT --
While I read Her story to you today,
I felt nervous, face reddened, cheeks flushed.
Me, the one who is usually so artfully articulate,
Stammering and tripping over my own written words. . . . more
|
|
April 11, 2008 09:57 PM EDT --
The Healer
She set under the huge red maple
In a field of grass and wild buttercups
Buffalo with new calves grazing near
No clouds, just robins egg blue sky
This was . . . more
|
|
January 21, 2008 12:19 PM EST --
My high school separation, a respite of joy
As I bandaged my wounds, removed the yoke crying
Freedom, sweet freedom your confusion I claim
As voices spoke of my calling to serve the Lord . . . more
|
|
February 07, 2008 06:54 PM EST --
Enduring footprints will surely know
to watch you dance in amber glow
as fireflies captive, with friendly eyes
dangle bits of light which hypnotize.
Awoke from sleep with blowing flute
sweet . . . more
|
|
February 25, 2008 08:15 PM EST --
for Jan Hersh, poet and artist of harmonious spiral and my dear friend, who dances stellar forms into dynamic embodiment.
How you got
Mapped like that
Blessed
* . . . more
|
|
May 27, 2007 11:03 AM EDT --
The stone is cast into the pond
The splash is heard
The ripples spread out in ever widening circles
And then they are gone.
How like the ripples
Are the currents disquieting . . . more
|
|
December 03, 2007 01:58 AM EST --
Poetry I (1973)
A set o f words
Divorced by the moving of time
or feeling,
Cannot be called poetry;
For in molding a form,
shaping . . . more
|
|
|
|