Quotes about riddle, page 13
Ages And Ages
Boundless ages destroy my feelings,
Dejected I bind the pages of my book.
Yielding pages are fluttering in my wake,
A rough machine manages the electric.
I have paused and stared into the abyss,
Reluctant and sorry for the ages that went;
This goal is yours also, to mightily surround
Us in our speech, working towards a righteousness.
Bouncing into the ocean I navigate
And stretch forming tatters, splatters and matters.
This swimming learnt will aid my life
To overcome the riddle I have experienced.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Sovereign Poet
HE sits above the clang and dust of Time,
With the world's secret trembling on his lip.
He asks not converse or companionship
In the cold starlight where thou canst not climb.
The undelivered tidings in his breast
Suffer him not to rest.
He sees afar the immemorable throng,
And binds the scattered ages with a song.
The glorious riddle of his rhythmic breath,
His might, his spell, we know not what they be;
We only feel, whate'er he uttereth,
This savors not of death,
This hath a relish of eternity.
poem by William Watson
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Ducks of Equality
Dark brown-black ducks
splish-splash and
pitter-patter on
gently rocking waves
of glee
When a light gray-white duck
tip-taps and
tip-toes
shyly shivering
'May I join? ' quacks he.
The dark brown-black ducks
easily accept
the light gray-white duck
as one of their own
and joyfully they swim and play
In chilly water
'til they're freezing to the bone
And I wonder:
[...] Read more
poem by Charlotte Riddle
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Sonnet 5
prophets are social hermits, and do
visionary eyes focus on social distance.
seeing ahead, it's as if they knew
the act of root in every consequence.
what faculty is it which reveals
that which lies hid to others' eyes:
which every discernment firmly seals
with stamp so distinct it time defies?
is it the cultivation of an inner sense,
certain intuition formed from gossamer,
or is the origin from clearer presence,
such as speaks directly to hearer?
to we who have wax in our ears
this riddle a mental mystery appears.
poem by Doug Bentley
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Useful Life
A useful life begins at the home of life,
In the deeds of men are soldiers who learn;
To learn is godly, much too much,
Searing heat has been launched on us.
Homes sing so merrily due to pleasure,
And travelling from the country of worth
Enjoys itself and all its memories.
Gloom and sorrow are the special qualities
Too many in number, there are too many!
Life begins at home as if charity,
The length of coping is required.
More than this time there stands a riddle
So engaging and cruel that we are not useful.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mirror Image Of A Face!
You make me to smile,
Even in the pungent domicile,
You mold me to be strong,
Even on the table of scalpel and tongs,
You never let me to drown in the puddle,
When I don't have to know to swim to riddle,
You hold me tight with care,
When the life's tornadoes dare,
You never let me to cry and weep,
When I look at you in the mirror,
When I see you crying, I feel sad,
I stop weeping immediately, not to be mad,
When I see you laugh, happy and in full make up,
My confidence boosts up to touch you in close up.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Thanks for the Memory
Thanks for the memory,
For a man; golden history,
Lived a life full of misery,
A true man; soul of ivory,
A riddle; unsolved irony,
A hunter, an artist, a Dad,
Truly had given me all he had,
And me? Were I that bad?
Did I really made him sad?
No, he didn't curse me in his bed,
But had forgiven his wayward lad,
A talent, a poet a musician mad,
And he'll forever remember that,
His last wish; in all that he'd said...
Thanks for the memory; I really appreciate your sympathy...And this is for history...
poem by Jimmy Zepp
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Sylvia Is Dead
all the stages are for her,
she burned her head whole
inside an oven and she keeps the
riddles of the nine syllables
crisp, and firm, and creepy
that is sylvia's best
and look
here comes the rest,
they follow.
intense, so so intense.
painful death and deadly poetry.
my soul rises to the 7th heaven.
i, am, too,
intense, like, you, too, two, the
two of you,
intensity lost
recovered
in a minute or so, so so intense.
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Myth Of Plato's Cave
Benighted in the secret haunt of night - myth
The deluge inherent in your mystic mirage
To demythologise us
Our dessicated hearts will absorb the flares.
In the cave of darkness - confined
Etched conciousness battered
Repining in the cryptic pearls of illusion
While there is surfeit
Of brightness outside.
There will not be a dearth of wariness
The riddle would not be approached
By waht they have promulgated.
One would be disentangled
From the entangling cave
Of night and will howl against the injustice
Of the darkness - blight.
poem by Kojo Owusu
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Wheedle The Riddle
So delicious so sweet,
An African with an Eskimo;
Blackeye peas,
White-eye beans;
I an in the valley of love with my mind.
What if this person was a White?
This person will have a white skin and,
A long hair,
What if this person was a Black?
This person will have a black skin and,
A short hair;
Love is like the rainbow out there.
Out of the romance came love,
Out of the kiss came something so sweet;
Rain clouds of the sky,
So delicious so sweet.
Wheedle the riddle,
An African with an Eskimo;
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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