Best Sophist Poems
Oh, ancient Greece,
How much you have filled my soul.
The aesthetics of your kind,
Are more than satisfied
By your beautiful eyes.
The epics of grace,
Odysseus and Helen’s sublime face.
The war between two cities,
And a tale of returning to beauty.
The dialectic of Socrates trial,
The Christ before Christ on clouds much higher.
The dialogues devoted to supreme justice,
By Plato’s divine universals.
Aristotle’s poetics devoted to the epics,
And particulars brought by the golden ethical’s.
Sappho and her poetry,
Herodotus and a tale of histories.
The land of marble devoted to democracy,
The Spartan grandeur and Athenian cultured society.
The Oedipus complex brought to Sophocles.
Vengeful acts by Media for adultery.
I sing joy to all the tragedies,
Aeschylus and the dance of the Eumenides.
The Minoan society and the island of Crete,
Greek culture and so much to keep.
Athena the bright eyed goddess of wisdom,
Came of Zeus, our lord of Jupiter.
Juno and her rivals in the kingdom,
Brought us tales of jealousy for the future.
The pre-Socratics of philosophy,
Thales, Heracleitus, and Anaximenes.
The golden verses of Pythagoras,
And the sophist named Protagoras.
Aristotle’s pupil brought grandeur to the dream,
Alexander the great extended the means.
The logic, the literature, and the home of philosophy,
Mythology, and the tragedies, histories of epic poetry.
The things that have been and will always be,
I will always remember the glory that was Greece.
When I opened my eyes, Mum’s love as my first sight
Those everlasting enjoys, Wrapped in a loving mist
laughing all with joys, Running to be a specialist
Unaware of the future ploys, of those so called sophist
Got to play with new toys, found it was so rhythmist
Thrill, adventure and killjoys, with the feelings of revolutionist
The day has come to deploy, proud to got shortlist
had a target to destroy, a country with our relativist
A heart’s true, pure, deep voice, somewhere it exist
A little internal noyes, saying not to be racist
The first victim were boys, those innocent civilist ,
Those blast of cries, oh how can I be such a demonist
A never ending sighs, hurt so much in the heart midst
The sad feeling why, coming to a mind of shootist
The last breathe of my, tears and pains with a tongue twist
Hey I don’t want to be the guy, who is named as a terrorist
Oh my God in the sky, do me a favor if you ever exist
I wanna spread the peace and joy, in my new life as a humanist
Hey I don’t wanna be that guy, who is named as a Terrorist
Hey I don’t wanna be that guy, who is named as a Terrorist
The Estranged [A dedication]
Jay was sitting in his small cell
His head resting on the rails
Staring with an absent minded wonder
At the raiment on his shrunken shoulder.
Is he the same man! or a shadow of
Jay Sen the scholar, the stylist philanthropist
The graceful spendthrift, a sophisticated sophist.
When did his advent venture turned into adversity!
When did he turn an addict, refusing golden opportunity
He couldn't make up his mind
He couldn't cope up with the blind
Those who can't differ
A gold and a plated glitter!
Those who have used him and
Threw him like a burnt cigar.
The cynical pseudos who blamed him a psychic
Accordingly they deserved blows and kick.
To some 'normal humane' this was unusual
An act of violence, not so sane and frugal
From then Jay's address is 'the Asylum',
The 'kind' home for mentally disturbed hoodlums.
Just then he saw himself
In a half burnt cigar, the warden threw.
Smoke was still rising, it's still alive, he knew.
He wanted it so badly, he stretched his hand out of the rails
And a sudden pain gripped him
A hooked rod ripped him
Drawing back his bloody knuckles
Jay cries a song of pathos
A rhapsody of agony mixed with rage
Fills the air of the dim lit cage
The half dead creatures exhales sighs of sorrow
And thus the sighs and cries moves on
As great waves of echos.
One night an angel surely came for Jay
With a candle glowing with a serene light
Not for money,not for fame, but only to spread love
And took away all the painful humility like a feather touch of a dove.
She made the disturbed calm and quiet
Mr. Jay is a reformed man now, always happy and satisfied.
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 25
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Not gods but by men in the full-length skirt
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Do not men in frocks drive terror promise doom
Those who heed not words they stuff into gods first
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Can honourable men raise gods from the tomb
Invite them back to earth slake believers’ thirst
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Who split their gods’ words plunge followers in gloom
Make dissenters fight staunch believers first
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Sexless men tear each other under own dome
Then order robot men to give up the ghost
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Who forbids men from praying under one dome
Don’t middle-men stoked by sybarite Sophist
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
- End of Part One –
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
When I'm pining for the power to yield
Breaking all the branches I seize
Acres for the taking in a forest of mistakes
I can't see for the trees
I level
With the shallow playing field
Dreaming up a blueprint to floor you
Delicately drafting
Inconspicuously crafting
The grand facade before you
Where my art lies
The best is underwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I promised I woul...
So I'm peeking past the pitch of my prime
Modeling the modern stage
Perforating patience with a paradox
In place of where the sophist meets the sage
I level
With the hallowed bottom line
Hopeful like the point of a nail
Architecture fractures
In apocalyptic rapture
Where false frameworks prevail
There my heart lies
The beat is overwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I swore I could
I guess I'm knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
Excess
Will not lead to progress
Will not let me access
What I learned I should
Rid me of
Termites
Crawling into airtight
Trademarks of my disguise
Make me decide I'm good
When I'm just knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
© Michal Czechak 2016
A sophist saint in ancient Grecian land,
Said whatever he said was a falsity.
Was asked to state anything before he died,
When once he'd committed an act of crime.
He would be hanged, if tell the truth he did;
And would be beheaded if he told untruth.
Being always prepared for th'unexpected,
That to be beheaded was he, stated he.
If he was executed cutting throat,
Then that would prove that what he'd told was truth,
For which the sentence had to be hanging him,
Thereby to prove that he had told untruth,
For which again to be cut the head apart,
Or if to be hanged, is this a paradox?
So thinking such and such the Judges swoon'd,
And asked the Saint to step out from the Court.
Thus neither to be beheaded or be hanged,
He roamed the country side and forest land.
The ancient Sophist saints of Greece were exceptionally clever with the use of their tongues. Don't play with them; they can bind us cunningly with their tongues. And don't corner them; we will never forget what we get in retaliation. Here in this poem, one such sophist saint is being tried in Court for a crime when the Judges get stung. The classical sophists were well-versed in paradoxes. The Judges in the Trial Court fail in understanding the real meaning of what the saint said.
There was truly nothing left to do in this place ?
But try and paint since joy as dreams had vanished
Her novelty slipped away ? A pendulum of vague slicing
Through time's wreckage left drifting atop florids sophist sea..
Deciphering her silkworms cocoon; spun amid a glissade of words.
Trouble-some Peace Offering
A warm weather,
Heat at its peak,
The sun smiles at the earth,
Plants welcome it arrival,
As usual the patriot at home,
Music at the corners of the
Building,
Voices echoing outside while
The music gets higher,
Wow my usual friend is
Calling at the door,
The patriot comes out of his shell,
The smoker at a glance,
Smile as usual,
Asked for a hard time,
Patriot brain searching for an answer,
The big smoker erect excepting
A reply,
But it ended in sixes and sevens,
Afraid to speak,
Afraid to help,
Afraid yr o go,
Can this be wickedness by
The patriot?
Would i call it steal or taking?
The sophist character possesses
The patriot,
Wisdom lacking somewhere,
Could i be a partner in crime?
No! Never,
How can it be,
Conscience pricks,
The conversation seems to over
Stay its welcome,
And was ripe judgement,
Respect was invited at the scene,
Smiles fading gradually,
The patriot doesn't care to know,
Legs moving,
Sweat increasing,
The stubborn fly at the door,
No mango,
Yet human strived to get,
Lets wait and hear the order
From above.
Exchange of greetings,
The patriot laughing,
The big smoker murmurs.
Well we anticipate for the
Completion of the toilet,
Not the assistance of stolen
Materials to round it up,
To avoid swollen bom bom.
I hope no crime in the words
Not harsh at all.
that I am.
that I never
wish to change.
limitless is my
range.
---
a sophist in
solitude,
is
a
happy me.
a sophist may
always be poor of
money.
a sophist can dream
all day,
nothing might get done,
who demands something
must?
---
a sophist is
intuned.
accurately intuned.
many others
may never understand,
as I will not too.
---
a sophist stares,
what are you thinking?
they ask,
are you ok?
yes,
a sophist is just
fine
Thinking it sophisticated, he declared himself a sophist.
Dwelling deep in Plato’s cave, he became learned in the shapes of shadows.
Enamored by their dim dancing, he concluded there can be no truth.
One day he realized that for this assertion to be true, it must be false,
and if it is false, it cannot be true.
Stepping out into ambrosial, golden dawn,
Departing at the new glistening inception,
he carried the heart of a befuddled terrified nomad.
A drifter, always hungry for affinity.
Rootless, always foraging for simpatico.
He became the vagrant ferreting the ambient gleaming
reaches, never certain of what he found, but convinced
that his search was urgently necessary.
In luminous amber ambience, he ambled the ambulatory.
Though his methods seemed antiquated and antique, he knew he could
never return to the cave shadows of antiquity.
No, they would never deceive him again.
But then as explorer, he confronted new dilemmas,
choosing between the newspeak of alternate realms.
His path lit by ubiquitous glittering rocks; he felt the glow penetrate in ways
he never before conceived, for he had always been soaked in stygian tenebrosity.
Common minds traverse comfort zones, seldom seeing beyond their boundaries.
His new freedom granted an empathic eye, remembering his hardest anxious choices.
Never before did he recognize how this residue, he collectively shared.
Upon this subliminal shoreline between mortality and the sublime, he could reify rapturous grails. He knew then, this divination was made possible only by his relatedness of being.
Moral codes based on inclusive truths make civil discourse achievable
because universal joints join collective being with unadorned conscience.
The curious mind is an endless flame,
That facts and truths cannot tame.
For knowing is powerful, sharp and clear,
Helping to adapt, learn and face the fear.
But knowing comes with a heavy cost and toll.
More questions to answer, more doubt to control.
But not knowing, too has its place.
For ignorance is bliss to engrace.
Where the mind lets go in free-fall.
In relief, in surrender, to just enthrall.
Knowing, sometimes it's better not to know.
To lie spaced-out, where turmoil won’t grow.
For though we claim to want to know more,
In the shadow of the knowledge door,
Lies our pull-back, and strain to resist,
Over-reaching beyond the canny twist sophist.
Look at the stars, look at how they shine for you and everything you do
- Coldplay - Yellow
ASTRAL DISPOSITION
The twizzle etchings in the Winter sky, electrifying,
those sparkling spectators of spectacular spin —
the height, the depth, velocity is riveting
and it’s all for you, my Dear
Millions of miles away, rambunctious smiles, applause —
serenade of plucking wings, society of carefree things
and it’s all for you, my Dear
With sophist swag, quill and ink — destiny curves,
loquacious cursive of psaltery stars
and it’s all for you, my Dear
Integrity and grit — eternity’s candlelit, luminous flames
of red, orange and green, yellow, white and blue
and it’s all for you, my Dear
2/15/2020
Famous poetic lines 3 - Love songs Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
My Sophist self hardly entertains the idea of air
and space is too immense, to damn big to occupy.
I project myself into the world, meet a friend
for coffee, pass by a parking meter, perplexed.
This is not enough to make me real.
My cartoon self moves about in the world
looking for a story line, intrigue, danger,
guns, sophisticated high tech guns.
I cock them all at once and fire,
the sound is immense in frame,
filling up space, finally,
with something colorful,
real, but only in this world of cartoons
searching for the next line, a scene, a full frame,
sophisticated meaning with cartoon guns.
philosophy is not...
some full-loss-of-fee nor
a full-loss-of-why
and
it also be not...
a full-loss-of-tickle nor
a full-loss-of-eye
its
cycle-logic-call means...
a full-sophist-tree perspective
wrt reality thoughts full-of-soap-eh!
len
Pedants fume helpless and seethe with rage,
But linguists surrender to the age,
Media always misuse
Commoners to confuse,
But rage not, time has turned a tired page.
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It is the age of freedom, free for all. Words are used any which way. Grammar ultimately follows usage. Take epicentre. It may sound a bit grander than just centre, but it is used only in context of earth-quakes. But media prefer epicentre in all contexts— political, social, economic, any. Pedants and classicists and linguists may boil with rage. But dictionaries will ultimately capitulate and compromise. So, make no fuss, or you will be called doctrinaire, worse, obscurantist or obfuscator, or in the worst case a nit-picker hair-splitter. Alas, you thought you were a sophist and a scholar!
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Tongue-in-cheek |05.05.14 |