Quotes about slate, page 2
My Own Emptiness
morning
is an empty slate.
i go outside
this room into an open garden
rays of sun arrive
upon leaves soundlessly
mushrooms grow on the sides
of the old narra tree
i imagine i see some
elves
big biga leaves capture
water and on its edges are dews
i am empty like an empty slate of
morning
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Landscape #2
4 o 'clock in the morning
dusk retreating and morning light advancing
a boat floating ashore
the wind is timid and the sand is still a very clean slate
you look behind you
you find your own steps
you think someone is chasing you
and you walk that fast enough
afraid to be finally caught
by your own fears
you stop to find out if the mountain moves with you
the sea taunts you
alone and weary and so poetic at this time of the day
the wind whispers to your devotion: who reads you somehow?
who cares? who loves you?
someday? sometime? the sand is still a clean slate
you are not this kind of man who gets easily intimidated by this void
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Evolving Bond of Oneness
Revisions may not always relate.
When across the board,
A changing slate is constantly updated...
Then erased!
What is taking place is the antiquated replacement...
Of a mindset being conditioned to be controlled.
With a bold leap unforeseen.
As it demeans those living lives in division.
'Global 'this'! '
'Global 'that'! '
Will be on your lips soon.
Revisions may not always relate.
When across the board,
A changing slate is constantly updated...
Then erased!
To do this and not be associated with treason!
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Parenthesis
Bright mirror which sheds light on silent screen,
impartial witness to ephemeris,
another day reflects on other scene,
and never breathes a hint of that or this, -
a silver slate which undisturbed has been
awaits mercurial metamorphosis.
Mirror reflects men’s absence, slate wiped clean,
with birth and death, ecstatic wedded bliss
traces stayed from Lethe’s grim demesne
scarce an instant. Swiftly we dismiss
this sweetest memory, that pain most keen, -
can love transcend, bend, challenge Time’s abyss?
The player gamely plays, acts out last scene,
indifferent to applause or heckler’s hiss, -
before [s]he’s buried someone slips between
the lines, into old shoes, yet who will miss
a century ahead King’s head or Queen,
love’s kiss, pride, honour vain, or cowardice?
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Do Not, Berate...Yourself!
Be not dismayed about your setbacks.
Or your lack of control when they seem to latch.
Avoid any re-enactments,
That attempt to saddle.
Clean the slate.
Do not, berate...yourself!
Be not dismayed about your setbacks.
Or your lack of control...
When those setbacks take hold,
To ride and latch to attach.
Say no!
Why do this,
Then renew it!
Say no...
Let them go.
Refuse to have any of that.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Silicate Syndrome Rubaiyat
Seagull spirit soars above wide screen
Impressions individual, seldom seen,
Lofty thoughts caught in symbolic net,
ICArus soaring, wax unmelted scene.
Soul keen keys multi-modal meanings green,
Ice hoar, grey-bearded, harvests facts few glean,
LIke, unlike compares, dare hedge no bet,
CAndle holds to render secrets clean.
Sin, virtue, truth, false, helix paradigm,
Id and ego's everlasting climb,
Loss and gain, retained as ethic's anchor -
Inherit building blocks. Primeval slime.
CArbon based with [f]oxy Jekyll hyd,
SIsyphus and Tantalus abide
LIght-sleeping yet day-dreaming till demise
CArries forward balance-sheet belied.
Silicate, slight sliver grey-silver slate,
Impermanence man's emblem, love and hate
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Locust
(pal waaktaar)
Dont be afaid
Its a harmless moon
All we can do
Is to assume
Our lives must change
A change is due
I hear you say
What are we gonna do
O weeping night
O grieving sky
O rabbit wind
You just flew by
Grant me this
Some small reward
Dont announce
Time of the final call
My dream was this:
Across the sky
A slate-grey cloud
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song performed by A-Ha
Added by Lucian Velea
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Come Back To Camden
There is something I wanted to tell you, It's so funny you'll kill yourself laughing
But then I, I look around, And I remember that I am alone, Alone. For evermore
The tile yard all along the railings, Up a discoloured dark brown staircase
Here you'll find, despair and I, Calling to you with what's left of my heart, My heart, For evermore
Drinking tea with the taste of the Thames, Sullenly on a chair on the pavement
Here you'll find, my thoughts and I, And here is the very last plea from my heart
My heart. For evermore, Where taxi drivers never stop talking
Under slate grey Victorian sky, Here you will find, despair and I
And here I am every last inch of me is yours, Yours, For evermore
Your leg came to rest against mine, Then you lounged with knees up and apart
And me and my heart, we knew, We just knew, For evermore
Where taxi drivers never stop talking, Under slate grey Victorian sky
Here you'll find, my heart and I, And still we say come back, Come back to Camden
And I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll be good
song performed by Morrissey
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Borough. Letter XXIV: Schools
To every class we have a School assign'd,
Rules for all ranks and food for every mind:
Yet one there is, that small regard to rule
Or study pays, and still is deem'd a School:
That, where a deaf, poor, patient widow sits,
And awes some thirty infants as she knits;
Infants of humble, busy wives, who pay
Some trifling price for freedom through the day:
At this good matron's hut the children meet,
Who thus becomes the mother of the street:
Her room is small they cannot widely stray, -
Her threshold high they cannot run away:
Though deaf, she sees the rebel-heroes shout, -
Though lame, her white rod nimbly walks about;
With band of yarn she keeps offenders in,
And to her gown the sturdiest rogue can pin:
Aided by these, and spells, and tell-tale birds,
Her power they dread and reverence her words.
To Learning's second seats we now proceed,
Where humming students gilded primers read;
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poem by George Crabbe
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I am a blank slate - therefore I can create anything I want.
quote by Tobey Maguire
Added by Lucian Velea
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