Smaller Instrument

The red Martian plain suffered from murder:
Up he comes to analyse a microscopic sample,
In a dry ocean, in a chamber of madness,
Like the murder and blood of Mars.

Dripping visions explored, expiration affected
The balance of measurements,
Some thunder struck the galaxy
In ways we cannot find or deliver to Earth.

poem by Naveed Akram
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A careful analysis of the process of observation in atomic physics has shown that the subatomic particles have no meaning as isolated entities, but can only be understood as interconnections between the preparation of an experiment and the subsequent measurement.

quote by Erwin Schrodinger
Added by Lucian Velea
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Harlem Wine

This is not water running here,
These thick rebellious streams
That hurtle flesh and bone past fear
Down alleyways of dreams

This is a wine that must flow on
Not caring how or where
So it has ways to flow upon
Where song is in the air.

So it can woo an artful flute
With loose elastic lips
Its measurements of joy compute
With blithe, ecstatic hips.

poem by Countee Cullen
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Exaggerated turns of speech conceal mediocre affections: as if the fulness of the soul might not sometimes overflow in the emptiest of metaphors, since no one, ever, can give the exact measurements of his needs, nor of his conceptions, nor of his sufferings, and the human word is like a cracked cauldron upon which we beat out melodies fit for making bears dance when we are trying to move the stars to pity.

Gustave Flaubert in Madame Bovary
Added by Lucian Velea
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The List

Today, I told myself I'd returned to normal
Whatever that means
I concluded this by the fact
that I had actually completed
everything on my 'list'
without daydreaming
Those little checkmarks
a measurement of how far I've come
to forget you
After dinner,
I'll wash the dishes,
watch television,
read in bed,
and drift in dreams
Back to square one

poem by Sara Fielder
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My Deepest Fear

My deepest fear is not that i am fighting
feelings that are outrageous

My deepest fear is not the life i live that
shadows me with my faults and faults of others

My deepest fear is not the fact that i am lost to
world full of cruel and unusual incidents

My deepest fear is not the false things that come
my way such as indications and judgments

My deepest fear is that i am blessed beyond measurements
and the truth of the life i live may come forward in the end

poem by Breanni Mcduffey
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Age Of The Straw

Silently you went to disappear in blue -
alone or unalone -
I was watching a moth
on the burning lamp in night way
scrawled flat as death’s signature
on the heap of broken wings,
between space and time
an extra dimension,

the position of a point from void to
center of chaos,
life extracts the measurement,

a smile lost the lips
a vision, eyes –
outside body, the soul scribbles
mist and crumbs of age.

poem by Satish Verma
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Constant Time

Time past and the future give way to this present picture,
But can somebody tell me how to recognize that gate that leads to the bed of roses,
We speak about the future like the past is a grain of sand on the shore,
Washed away by the ocean tide,
Giving way to new grains to make a portrait of the present,
These past memories stay deep in our heart like the depths of the ocean,
Though it gets washed back to shore ones in a blue moon,
Reminding us that our past is a standard measurement of our strength,

Time moves so fast making the past to fade away,
this makes us seem so secured about the present,
Forgetting the fact that our present becomes our past that was once a present from nature as a new day,
Some take the future to be a dream and a wish,
But I take my future to be what I see when I stand from the bottom of the mountain to look at the top,
And my past to be the depth of the ocean that can always be washed ashore …

[...] Read more

poem by Adeniran Oluokun
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Metric is definitely communist. One monetary system, one language, one weight and measurement system, one world - all communist! We know the West was won by the inch, foot, yard, and mile.

quote by Dean Krakel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Contentment for M'lady C.T.Heart

How do you measure happiness?
Is it a question of degree?
A measurement of more or less
discontent to ecstasy.
Is it enough to be content?
I think for most that must be true.
Although sometimes by accident
you are allowed a different view.
One moment of pure ecstasy.
You know you are connected to
Everything: An epiphany
which makes you change your world view.
I think perhaps to be content
for me is quite sufficient.

21-Jul-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Common Sense

Normalcy is for you to judge, what is normal for one,
Is abnormal for another, as there are no measurement guides,
To the balance of judgment that, is to be your guide in,
The philosophy of your lifetime, to use your "Common Sense";
As this is the natural thought of the mind, to see or think,
According to the intelligency of each person,
To overcome any problem without negative prejudice or malice,
To live on as "Human Beings", in a "World at Peace."

poem by Jim DiGregorio
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Whales

The ways of the learned to me are 'Greek,'
And professors and such amaze me.
I know, without trying, the thing they seek,
Tho' I doubt if for that they'll praise me.

They want to discover why whales are big,
So they sail, at the risk of sinking,
In ships with elaborate, technical rig,
When the facts can be learned by thinking.

I can simply account for the size of a whale
And it doesn't seem much of a riddle
It's because he's so long from the nose to the tail
And in measurement round the middle.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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In Life There Is A Time (Stave Stanza Sestets)

In life there is a time to either say
on a very particular kind of day,
yes or no, to love someone or let it go,
that choice may look insignificant, even so
have consequences which bind with conviction
might be of love at a time a true depiction.

Who refuses might not be really loved,
might full of some selfishness be stuffed
and yes and no, or to live for the moment,
might sound insignificant as a measurement
of being just and true, but no contradiction
might be of love at a time a true depiction.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Yet to bloom

Mother Earth has yet to bloom.
Like a flower that has just budded,
Mother Earth has unlimited potentials.
The Universe hides secrets from tiny Earth
Which unfolds its wonders in stages.
As crawling creatures turned into
Flying creatures and apes into men,
We will have creatures that can even
Crisscross the universe at the speed of
Their own wish one day.
Yet to bloom though Mother Earth is old
By human measurements.
The day will come when our technology
Will be thought as nothing more
Than stone-age appliances are to us.
Given the opportunity to bloom
Further that is, Mother Earth.
Its full bloom beyond our thoughts.

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Jungle Husband

Dearest Evelyn, I often think of you
Out with the guns in the jungle stew
Yesterday I hittapotamus
I put the measurements down for you but they got lost in the fuss
It's not a good thing to drink out here
You know, I've practically given it up dear.
Tomorrow I am going alone a long way
Into the jungle. It is all grey
But green on top
Only sometimes when a tree has fallen
The sun comes down plop, it is quite appalling.
You never want to go in a jungle pool
In the hot sun, it would be the act of a fool
Because it's always full of anacondas, Evelyn, not looking ill-fed
I'll say. So no more now, from your loving husband Wilfred.

poem by Stevie Smith
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Blind He Was

A blind know ledged person emerges from the dark
After his kingdom beckoned him when in a park.
In it he states allegiance elegantly, drawing facts
From his own speech, pulling tears and acts.
His sight was allowed, the road was known as safe,
And light managed to be sucked into him, so unsafe.
The ground retold the riches, of a better man than any,
How do sleepy souls rejoice now so correctly?
Through the night, the blind man sees his achievement,
With successful attributes, with wealth and its measurement.

poem by Naveed Akram
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D-day

It was the centre of inferno,
where we met -
the chaste tree was burning.
Beyond the time,
we opened up our memories,
churning our minds.
That was without
space & measurements.
I am again turning deaf.

The stillness had a vocabulary,
and the words hummed a silence.
I emptied all my rooms,
came out to listen to otherness.
How thin was the happening,
the thoughts drifted out,
visibility became poor
and ending of pain came soon.

Pure tearless eyes,

[...] Read more

poem by Satish Verma
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An Absolute That's Never The Same

Someone has to believe.
As someone needs not to believe.
A equal balance.
Let order bring chaos.
And let chaos bring order.
Whether in what we believe in or believe not be true or rot.
It should not be measured by men of either of equal or unequal standards.
For a measurement now will change in 100 years.
How we go about it will change.
An absolute is nothing ever stays the same.
This is of course a oxymoron.
A contradiction in it's own terms.
But it does make it any less true.
Just the word I used isn't of the proper glue.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Light Perceptions

Light reflections colour sunset, casting
enchanting shimmer shadows, night cap light.
Light darkling sprays now, now strays out of sight,
elusive dance advancing, fast contrasting,
leaves measurements behind, mocks time's forecasting.
Tints overprint imagination bright
as Nature's way of reaching through insight,
attracts within a vortex spin outlasting
leisure looks, taps latent springs. Past’s sting
engulfed in night-tide’s swing swirl sings delight.
No frontiers twixt the tears of joy, soul's flight,
and wonder as the sight spans - all surpassing.
Let life through stillness still more life gestate,
anon the pattern paints a second state...

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Egress

how very sad, these sad ones murmuring along
happily delighted in their tricks and habits
staring vacantly, intent on rusted footpaths
where have they come from, where do they lead?

just one purpose met, just one light fulfilled
growing not upward or with skillful grace
simply entertained, simplier confused
there is not a boundary set for measurement

only dissolution of boxes, breaking of walls
bearing this verity in mind, that all is pale
heaven is meant for angels, and hell for demons
leaving is not a science, but an understanding

poem by Poet Dragon
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