#aristotle - Hello Poetry

I went on a walk with Aristotle, And we pondered, as we wandered. I quizzed him about the necessity of friendship, Or if they were just an excuse to dawdle. He looked at me and stroked his chin, And questioned why I questioned him, I responded with a simple plea, “I’m in desperate need of guidance. I had a group, That flew the coop, While I could do, Nothing but watch. The scales were removed, I learned soon after, That letting down your guard spells doom, And leaves you in tatters.” He listened to my story, I wiped my damp eyes, He patted my shoulder, To my surprise. He smiled softly, Took my hand and spoke gently. “You’ve been hurt and now you’re scared, And scarred; you think you’re beyond repair, And the world might tell you so. What you witnessed wasn’t friendship, Not in the purest sense, But more like a fleeting sparrow, Leaping from nest to nest. Some feel deeply, much as yourself, So you assume, naturally, that’s the same as everyone else, But some are superficial and see you as a means to an end, Those artificial peons aren’t true friends. True philia isn’t fragile, and it rarely decays, To the slightest change in breeze, Or a joke uttered in the wrong way, But it stands firm, like this oak, Though occasionally, it may sway.” We sat down under the tree, An apple fell into my lap. I took a bite, heard the crunch, The sweetness reminding me of what I lost. Like honeysuckle, a short reprieve, From the pain I held within. Was it my lack of connection, That sealed the fate for my friends? As I was lost deep in thought, Aristotle retrieved a bottle, Of wine for him, and juice for me, He smiled again, continuing. “True friendship is rare, like fine wine, It’s crafted and molded by time. Sometimes you drink, and the taste is sour, Grapes harvested past their ripe hour. Don’t distress about the mess, The fish are plentiful in the ocean. However, without the willingness to cast, How can one hope to be loved? You say a lowered guard spells doom, You may think that rings true, But a lonely monarch on his throne, Has no one to count on but his own, And will inevitably lose. Friendship, like love, is filled with pain, It’s a gambit covered with messy blame. For those who don’t dare to play, Are destined to be destitute of fame, And overcompensated by shame.” “How does one forget the wounds they’ve been dealt?” I asked, hoping for an answer I knew didn’t exist. “You cannot; that pain will be a constant, always felt.” He glanced over, noticing my resistance. “Don’t be afraid to feel, if feeling is who you are, But don’t let the fleeting tear you apart.” I shed a tear, which turned to two, As double hurricanes clouded my view. Aristotle dropped his bottle, And embraced me, understanding me, More than my friends ever had. A simple conversation, A few words spoken, More meaningful than years of emotional investment. He stood and smiled once more, Leaving me with this final encore. “Those who think are often tormented by, What fears and pains they hide on the inside. Don’t forget to spread your wings and fly, With true feathered friends, not crows who lie.” Aristotle disappeared, leaving me with many thoughts. I stood up and brushed my weary self off. I closed the book I had been reading, Dried my eyes from their weeping, Smiled, and finished the apple I had been eating. For I could always read the book from beginning to end, If I wished to walk with Aristotle again.

0

Oct 8, 2025

Oct 8, 2025 at 4:34 PM UTC

ReeceAE

A Walk With Aristotle

I went on a walk with Aristotle, And we pondered, as we wandered. I quizzed him about the necessity of friendship, Or if they were just an excuse to dawdle. He looked at me and stroked his chin, And questioned why I questioned him, I responded with a simple plea, “I’m in desperate need of guidance. I had a group, That flew the coop, While I could do, Nothing but watch. The scales were removed, I learned soon after, That letting down your guard spells doom, And leaves you in tatters.” He listened to my story, I wiped my damp eyes, He patted my shoulder, To my surprise. He smiled softly, Took my hand and spoke gently. “You’ve been hurt and now you’re scared, And scarred; you think you’re beyond repair, And the world might tell you so. What you witnessed wasn’t friendship, Not in the purest sense, But more like a fleeting sparrow, Leaping from nest to nest. Some feel deeply, much as yourself, So you assume, naturally, that’s the same as everyone else, But some are superficial and see you as a means to an end, Those artificial peons aren’t true friends. True philia isn’t fragile, and it rarely decays, To the slightest change in breeze, Or a joke uttered in the wrong way, But it stands firm, like this oak, Though occasionally, it may sway.” We sat down under the tree, An apple fell into my lap. I took a bite, heard the crunch, The sweetness reminding me of what I lost. Like honeysuckle, a short reprieve, From the pain I held within. Was it my lack of connection, That sealed the fate for my friends? As I was lost deep in thought, Aristotle retrieved a bottle, Of wine for him, and juice for me, He smiled again, continuing. “True friendship is rare, like fine wine, It’s crafted and molded by time. Sometimes you drink, and the taste is sour, Grapes harvested past their ripe hour. Don’t distress about the mess, The fish are plentiful in the ocean. However, without the willingness to cast, How can one hope to be loved? You say a lowered guard spells doom, You may think that rings true, But a lonely monarch on his throne, Has no one to count on but his own, And will inevitably lose. Friendship, like love, is filled with pain, It’s a gambit covered with messy blame. For those who don’t dare to play, Are destined to be destitute of fame, And overcompensated by shame.” “How does one forget the wounds they’ve been dealt?” I asked, hoping for an answer I knew didn’t exist. “You cannot; that pain will be a constant, always felt.” He glanced over, noticing my resistance. “Don’t be afraid to feel, if feeling is who you are, But don’t let the fleeting tear you apart.” I shed a tear, which turned to two, As double hurricanes clouded my view. Aristotle dropped his bottle, And embraced me, understanding me, More than my friends ever had. A simple conversation, A few words spoken, More meaningful than years of emotional investment. He stood and smiled once more, Leaving me with this final encore. “Those who think are often tormented by, What fears and pains they hide on the inside. Don’t forget to spread your wings and fly, With true feathered friends, not crows who lie.” Aristotle disappeared, leaving me with many thoughts. I stood up and brushed my weary self off. I closed the book I had been reading, Dried my eyes from their weeping, Smiled, and finished the apple I had been eating. For I could always read the book from beginning to end, If I wished to walk with Aristotle again.

95

In the new world of books, Where the hungry mind's meal is cooked. Laid ancient artifacts. Golden treasure that the unborn yearn to behold. This treasure caught my busy sight, Which hungers for root of the rare gem. My legs drove me here like a fast bike. It covers 5 meters in a second, Just to take a glimpse this diamond. A mountain of books. An ocean of map, a guide to today's writers. Their quills had dried up long ago, Yet their words still drip ink on our tongues. Scrolls of Aristotle and Shakespeare won war. The war against time that makes things lost. Your words are not trend that are visitors. But your ink is like the earth that never stop. Your ink shine as though made now. I use your ink in writing this scroll. Ink men of today still drip your ink on their scroll. Will our ink still shine if time tests the scroll?

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Aug 27, 2025

Aug 27, 2025 at 5:34 AM UTC

osahenomafavourmoses

The Ancient Ink

In the new world of books, Where the hungry mind's meal is cooked. Laid ancient artifacts. Golden treasure that the unborn yearn to behold. This treasure caught my busy sight, Which hungers for root of the rare gem. My legs drove me here like a fast bike. It covers 5 meters in a second, Just to take a glimpse this diamond. A mountain of books. An ocean of map, a guide to today's writers. Their quills had dried up long ago, Yet their words still drip ink on our tongues. Scrolls of Aristotle and Shakespeare won war. The war against time that makes things lost. Your words are not trend that are visitors. But your ink is like the earth that never stop. Your ink shine as though made now. I use your ink in writing this scroll. Ink men of today still drip your ink on their scroll. Will our ink still shine if time tests the scroll?

21

I dare not scratch the surface Plato itched, For fear I'd break my fingers on the stone. My faculties in circles whirl around, Which metaphor Aristotle would bemoan. My femininity is undenied And thus my musings, when they first began, Would be utterly rejected, undeniably rebuked, By one featherless bipedal man. The History that gulped Atlantis down Into its sunken depths, has made a grave For all free thinkers, locked by secret PINs. Philosophy, no more, these souls can save. I carry naught but spades in both my hands, Seeking to unearth artful thought's tomb. Labor-sweat pours down, yet I am left to merely mourn The heartbeat ne'er since heard from Athen's womb.

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Jul 31, 2020

Jul 31, 2020 at 3:18 AM UTC

Seadrin

The Heart of Athens

I dare not scratch the surface Plato itched, For fear I'd break my fingers on the stone. My faculties in circles whirl around, Which metaphor Aristotle would bemoan. My femininity is undenied And thus my musings, when they first began, Would be utterly rejected, undeniably rebuked, By one featherless bipedal man. The History that gulped Atlantis down Into its sunken depths, has made a grave For all free thinkers, locked by secret PINs. Philosophy, no more, these souls can save. I carry naught but spades in both my hands, Seeking to unearth artful thought's tomb. Labor-sweat pours down, yet I am left to merely mourn The heartbeat ne'er since heard from Athen's womb.

16

Keep your trees, keep them for your heaven of ashen dusk And night like the pale-faced deathmask of emperors, No reason that the commoner to oblivion is hushed, These old-wise woods and leaves, peopled without us. Keep Macedonian dust lightly conquered over the breeze, So that it shoots its tail like the centuries-sole comet, The scorched earth left by Alexander’s mapmaker eyes, Swung wide like his Sarissophoroi over Persian might. Remember the lesser grove of his teacher Aristotle’s tribe, They have only slipped their sandals off, to bare themselves Of sound and the concourse of the foot’s impulse, Caught the lithesome wind, to flow outside our hearing, And muse as empire of air and loss and forgotten walks. Keep your trees and the darkening sky through them That remind me of the passing into the past. Never is the poem from tongue of ***** or plow.

0

Jan 21, 2020

Jan 21, 2020 at 10:14 AM UTC

ChrisSaitta

Oblivion Conquers Us

Keep your trees, keep them for your heaven of ashen dusk And night like the pale-faced deathmask of emperors, No reason that the commoner to oblivion is hushed, These old-wise woods and leaves, peopled without us. Keep Macedonian dust lightly conquered over the breeze, So that it shoots its tail like the centuries-sole comet, The scorched earth left by Alexander’s mapmaker eyes, Swung wide like his Sarissophoroi over Persian might. Remember the lesser grove of his teacher Aristotle’s tribe, They have only slipped their sandals off, to bare themselves Of sound and the concourse of the foot’s impulse, Caught the lithesome wind, to flow outside our hearing, And muse as empire of air and loss and forgotten walks. Keep your trees and the darkening sky through them That remind me of the passing into the past. Never is the poem from tongue of ***** or plow.

16

should happiness be our purpose does it carry the same meaning aristotle intended for us we live in a society of addictions swim in anxious waters float in melancholy skies yet demand happiness at every turn happiness has become our new addiction

0

Aug 8, 2019

Aug 8, 2019 at 12:41 PM UTC

pacelli

our new addiction

should happiness be our purpose does it carry the same meaning aristotle intended for us we live in a society of addictions swim in anxious waters float in melancholy skies yet demand happiness at every turn happiness has become our new addiction

9

learning to love yourself is the greatest lesson of all cause loving yourself means being one step closer to a fullfilled life -maybe thats what aristotle would say nowadays

0

May 20, 2018

May 20, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC

thunderroad

maybe thats what aristotle would say nowadays

learning to love yourself is the greatest lesson of all cause loving yourself means being one step closer to a fullfilled life -maybe thats what aristotle would say nowadays

6

Choices, choices are so difficult Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, With whom should I spend my day? With whom should I go? With whom? To an enchanting place, So serene, Speaking of things unearthly, Things unseen With whom should I spend my time? Listening to birds sing With whom?

0

Jan 27, 2018

Jan 27, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC

sunprincess

Choices shape our Destiny, I Suppose

Choices, choices are so difficult Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, With whom should I spend my day? With whom should I go? With whom? To an enchanting place, So serene, Speaking of things unearthly, Things unseen With whom should I spend my time? Listening to birds sing With whom?

12

Hail to Thee, Immortal Three Knowledge we sing on laud Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates Philosophy, to be human awed Teach through time, consciously Nod not, what others fraud Socrates taught, Divine Being God not of brutal Athens’ passions Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing Goodness unseen in day’s fashions Soul for unalloyed agreeing Lessons humanities’ compassion Talk eternal justice, everlasting life Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife Invincible perfection be God’s season Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife Priests who find this, absolute treason No church or Socratic school A barefoot man roamed to teach Socrates mocked for looking a fool His speech not one to simply preach Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool Cruel hemlock, words did so breach Handsome aristocratic youth Plato Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom But soon to find his own credo In Medara to find Euclid and freedom Egyptian geometry to provide dado To Plato life, expression; not a system Eternally an artist, Plato did develop Philosophic circle in Academus groves Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop Discretions of sensations, be not oaths What man may be, an animal jealous Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple So too, to Plato would Aristotle be Passing comprehension archetypal Successions of genius’ visions do see Aristotle taking it step further, as vital To science of hands-on discovery And this is where we see a parting Of two distinctly opposing philosophies Plato being at odds, with science starting Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies Things not happening by chance imparting Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates But a new era has surely now dawned Science exploring an invisible atom And the seen and unseen correspond So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum Brilliant new philosophies have spawned An abstract notion of conceived stratum

0

May 9, 2016

May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC

pj-poesy

Immortal Three

Hail to Thee, Immortal Three Knowledge we sing on laud Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates Philosophy, to be human awed Teach through time, consciously Nod not, what others fraud Socrates taught, Divine Being God not of brutal Athens’ passions Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing Goodness unseen in day’s fashions Soul for unalloyed agreeing Lessons humanities’ compassion Talk eternal justice, everlasting life Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife Invincible perfection be God’s season Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife Priests who find this, absolute treason No church or Socratic school A barefoot man roamed to teach Socrates mocked for looking a fool His speech not one to simply preach Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool Cruel hemlock, words did so breach Handsome aristocratic youth Plato Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom But soon to find his own credo In Medara to find Euclid and freedom Egyptian geometry to provide dado To Plato life, expression; not a system Eternally an artist, Plato did develop Philosophic circle in Academus groves Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop Discretions of sensations, be not oaths What man may be, an animal jealous Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple So too, to Plato would Aristotle be Passing comprehension archetypal Successions of genius’ visions do see Aristotle taking it step further, as vital To science of hands-on discovery And this is where we see a parting Of two distinctly opposing philosophies Plato being at odds, with science starting Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies Things not happening by chance imparting Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates But a new era has surely now dawned Science exploring an invisible atom And the seen and unseen correspond So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum Brilliant new philosophies have spawned An abstract notion of conceived stratum

54

I do ponder on Aristotle, In these groves of golden wattles, Was Aristotle on the bottle? "What is beautiful?" he asked, He set us such a puzzling task, How to define beautiful? Maybe, things inspirational, Or, indeed, something admirable, A pretty verse, so lyrical, Or scenery beautiful, Or a woman, lovable, Maybe it is a life of harmony, Are these beautiful, prithee? Excellent question, Sir Aristotle, Maybe I should hit the bottle.

0

Apr 18, 2016

Apr 18, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC

julie-grenness

BEAUTIFUL.....

I do ponder on Aristotle, In these groves of golden wattles, Was Aristotle on the bottle? "What is beautiful?" he asked, He set us such a puzzling task, How to define beautiful? Maybe, things inspirational, Or, indeed, something admirable, A pretty verse, so lyrical, Or scenery beautiful, Or a woman, lovable, Maybe it is a life of harmony, Are these beautiful, prithee? Excellent question, Sir Aristotle, Maybe I should hit the bottle.

15

Enamored of the possible, and racing, Through a winding maze of endless choices, Daunted by the obstacles we're facing, and Dizzied by the clamor's many voices, Shackled by a heavy chain of causes, Binding us to all we've ever known, The many paths before us give us pause, as We struggle to define which are our own, Within a world that's not of our own making We anxiously await the day we'll find, A journey worthy of our undertaking, so That purpose in our lives may be defined, but Perhaps our fate condemns us all to wander, and Our lives are merely mysteries to ponder

0

Mar 23, 2016

Mar 23, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC

iliveinyourhead

Telos

Enamored of the possible, and racing, Through a winding maze of endless choices, Daunted by the obstacles we're facing, and Dizzied by the clamor's many voices, Shackled by a heavy chain of causes, Binding us to all we've ever known, The many paths before us give us pause, as We struggle to define which are our own, Within a world that's not of our own making We anxiously await the day we'll find, A journey worthy of our undertaking, so That purpose in our lives may be defined, but Perhaps our fate condemns us all to wander, and Our lives are merely mysteries to ponder

14

Crawled inside a whisky bottle For I am no aristotle This is my hiding spot for awail There is no need for 911 to be dialed I'm only trying to drown my misery Surly that is plain to see Please don't shake me out I need my whisky stout Let me stay In here for now I'll find my own way out.....some how

0

Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC

Pauline_Morris

Whisky Bottle

Crawled inside a whisky bottle For I am no aristotle This is my hiding spot for awail There is no need for 911 to be dialed I'm only trying to drown my misery Surly that is plain to see Please don't shake me out I need my whisky stout Let me stay In here for now I'll find my own way out.....some how

10

How to get a good night's sleep-- Instead of enumerating endless sheep, Reclining beautifully with Aristotle, Don't decline, hit the bottle, What does rhyme with Aristotle? I ponder parades of passing Axolotls, Maybe Australia's golden wattles, Driving by, foot on throttle. Yes, they all rhyme with Aristotle, Maybe I shouldn't drink that bottle, Musing thoughts philosophical, Aristotle waxing lyrical and logical, I'll curl up with this learned book, "What is beautiful?" at Aristotle I'll look, Far different from enumerating sheep, Drifting into a good night's sleep.

0

Jul 13, 2015

Jul 13, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC

julie-grenness

SLEEP AND ARISTOTLE

How to get a good night's sleep-- Instead of enumerating endless sheep, Reclining beautifully with Aristotle, Don't decline, hit the bottle, What does rhyme with Aristotle? I ponder parades of passing Axolotls, Maybe Australia's golden wattles, Driving by, foot on throttle. Yes, they all rhyme with Aristotle, Maybe I shouldn't drink that bottle, Musing thoughts philosophical, Aristotle waxing lyrical and logical, I'll curl up with this learned book, "What is beautiful?" at Aristotle I'll look, Far different from enumerating sheep, Drifting into a good night's sleep.

16