Blake has always been a favorite, the lyrics, not so much the prophetic books, but I suppose Yeats influenced me more as a young poet, and the American, Robert Frost.
quote by Anne Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Ronnie
My friend Ronnie when he
retired as literature teacher invested
his money in books
he bought crates and crates of
books from the United States
and brought them
to the Philippines
to include a number of his favorite
poetry books bearing such authors
as frost, walt, derek, etcetera
and he invites me in
for some hours
as he loves to read these poems aloud
and discuss the meaning of
each metaphor
for he is a poet in his own little way
a right he claims somehow
and modesty aside i also write some
published sometimes
and he finds me
a compliment to this blank spaces
and so we indulge in this higher
state of literary affairs until he could not
accept that i know more about
his favorite poet than he does
i mean, i know it by heart
he sometimes gets away from this kind of loving
until he gets offended and shies away
from my own way of
intellectual desperation
he did not invite me anymore
his books took the revenge
letting in more dusts more dusts more dusts
with no finger prints
until he died, his greed for books went with him
the books that till date,
remained virgins.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Did Not Need Or Want To Be Anyone But Myself
I DID NOT NEED OR WANT TO BE ANYONE BUT MYSELF
I did not need or want to be anyone but myself-
But was my self a self worth being?
I did not want to be Wallace Stevens
I did not want to be Wordsworth
I did not want to be Hopkins or Dickinson or Blake or Yeats-
They were all who they were
And a blessing to many-
I just want to be who I am
But am I a self worth being?
Or am I just a person
Whose name is namelessness?
I suppose I can live with my own namelessness
And my not being one of those with a real name-
I suppose I can live with being only who I am
However unworthy that is
Name or not, nameless or not
After all
I am only who I am -
And I will only pass this way one time-
Name or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young American
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
All night
He wants the young American
Young American, young American, he wants the young American
All right
He wants the young American
Do you remember, your President Nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-American?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that Barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
And
All night
You want the young American
Young American, young American, you want the young American
All right
You want the young American
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man you can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
break down and cry?
All night
I want the young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
All right
I want the young American
Young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
(I want with you, I want with you want)
All right
(You want it, I want you you, you want I, I want you want)
Young American, young American, I want the young American (I want to want, to want, to want , to want I, I want you)
All right
(Lord I wanted the young american)
(young american)
Young American, Young American
I want the young American
Mmmmmm mmm
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Americans
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
Gee my lifes a funny thing, am I still too young?
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, shed have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her ford mustang, but
Heaven forbid, shell take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries where have all papas heroes gone?
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
All the way from washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?
All night
He wants the young american
Young american, young american, he wants the young american
All right
He wants the young american
Do you remember, your president nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-american?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-sheilas
Aint that close to love?
Well, aint that poster love?
Well, it aint that barbie doll
Her hearts been broken just like you have
And
All night
You want the young american
Young american, young american, you want the young american
All right
You want the young american
You aint a pimp and you aint a hustler
A pimps got a cadi and a lady got a chrysler
Blacks got respect, and whites got his soul train
Mamas got cramps, and look at your hands ache
I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Aint there a man you can say no more?
And, aint there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, aint there a child I can hold without judging?
Aint there a pen that will write before they die?
Aint you proud that youve still got faces?
Aint there one damn song that can make me
Break down and cry?
All night
I want the young american
Young american, young american, I want the young american
All right
I want the young american
Young american
Young american, young american, I want the young american
(I want with you, I want with you want)
All right
(you want it, I want you you, you want i, I want you want)
Young american, young american, I want the young american (I want to want, to want, to want , to want i, I want you)
All right
(lord I wanted the young american)
(young american)
Young american, young american
I want the young american
Mmmmmm mmm
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We dance in a circle and suppose, while the secret sits in the middle and knows.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Secret Sits
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tribute To My Great Poets (Revised)
I forget who it was that invented the first electrode.
Let me praise the guy who invented the commode.
Love is all that matters in the solar system and universe
Some poets and writers like to compose using free verse.
I like to write my poems using ending rhymes.
Some poems I like to read over one hundred times.
The inspiration for some of my poems are from the divine.
The writings and poems of Jane Austen can make me pine.
A moving poem by Robert Frost can inspire my mind.
Let me mention another great poet name Edgar Allan Poe.
He wrote a poem called ‘The Raven’ about someone in woe.
So ode to the electrode, commode, the solar system, and the universe.
Hooray for poems that rhyme, things that are divine, and even free verse.
Bravo to poets who make me pine and all those who inspire my mind.
Let me pay a final tribute to the poets; Austen, Frost, and Poe.
I love to read a moving poem about loss and great human woe?
My favorite Frost poem is Road Less Taken; My favorite Poe poem is The Raven; And my favorite Austen poem is Ode to Pity.
*Definitions of pine: noun: have a desire for something or someone who is not present
Definitions of woe: noun: intense mournfulness, or misery resulting from affliction.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sand Pebbles has always been one of my favorite films, I suppose because its the most difficult film - from a physical and logistical standpoint - that I've ever made.
quote by Robert Wise
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is A Place Where In My Argument I Lose
A writers anger without the vulgarities of the modern time.
How it is so hard not to say curse words where they would fit so well.
To understand as only a poet would with a passion would.
Denied the American vocabulary I know so well I seek out means and words
To bring you down to my hell.
To express the hatred, and meanness that takes over with thunder
It has been taught to me by a society who finds it only offensive in public writings like poems.
In a books one is aloud, to say what ever they want.
I have read entire sex scene's in book and one word of such a nature is wrong in a poem.
Defined by those who believe all poems are met for kids.
Look at some the best lyrics describing anger, the rawness of them it the ability to use vulgarity and speak your mind as you so choose
But again in the poet world this is a place where in my argument I lose.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Robert Frost was alive, I was known as the other new England poet, which is to be barely known at all.
quote by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Poet's Society
I had a dream last night
That I met my maker
Woke up in a different place
But it felt like home
Robert Frost walked over to me
And said I was brave
For not traveling
‘The Road Not Taken’
Emily Dickenson took a seat next to me
Telling me not to worry
Majority of her poems didn’t get published until she passed
I still can’t believe I’m here
My face has a look of being gassed
Gwendolyn Brooks told me
The key to being a great poet is relating to your readers
Kahlil Gibran explained to me the duty
That I had to inject politics into my writings
Dante Alighieri explained to me the three realms of the afterlife
W.B. Yeats said even in death
I could continue my “Vision”
Homer told me that life
Is an epic “Odyssey”
Then like a flash from a camera
White light is all I can see
I come back to life
Laying in a my bed
A cold sweat has over taken me
Wishing I could go back
Taken on be anxiety
Waiting to revisit the Dead Poet’s Society
poem by Steve 'Ideologikal' Logan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jekyll and Hyde Psychology
My tongue is like a viperous snake
Waiting to latch onto a nervous victim
Who senses my evil mood of paranoid defensiveness
But still she walks slowly into the room.
Maybe she thought she knew me,
That I have a sweet smile, definitely a gentle man,
Maybe we could meet, exchange civility,
Later, that I would ask her out for a drink.
This is all Jekyll and Hyde psychology!
The slightest thing can set me spinning
Into a downward spiral of unrelenting depression:
Hearing a song on the radio
That meant something to me
When I was in love, could make me cry
Or fly ruthlessly off the handle!
She introduces herself and says,
“I’ve met your sister at church,
She says you like to read
The prophetic poetry of William Blake.”
I reply sarcastically, “You’ve met
The wrong sister, I only read
The pathetic trial transcripts of Robert Blake, ”
Then I turn around and leave!
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I should think just about every young writer - which I was at the time - would be influenced by HPL. As an American writer of weird fiction, he was at the top of the class.
quote by Brian Lumley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let's Just Suppose
Let’s just suppose
That over four thousand young men
Got jobs and got married
Became normal Americans and then
Let’s just suppose
These same young men of our new generation
Stayed home and avoided
Nightmares and mutilation
Let’s just suppose
Over four thousand lives were sadly expended
In a hostile land, so far away
In a war built on lies, and is yet open-ended
Let’s just suppose
That many untold billions in funds
Had over four thousand of those young men
Building our country, in lieu of bearing guns
Let’s just suppose
That instead, billions were spent on education
On infrastructure, medical research and homeland defense
Lives better spent, to build a better, stronger nation
Let’s just suppose
That the mad minds in our administration
Had Instead, kept those heroic young boys
safe at home, while still defending our nation
Let’s just wonder
amidst all the war-wager’s noise
Was this one man…Saddam Housein
Worth more than four thousand of our young boys?
Let’s just suppose
This madness we could suspend
All stand together and say “enough is enough.”
We’re not the world’s policemen
This madness must end!
Let’s just propose….
To bring our young men
Back home.
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frost
Frost covers fallen bridges,
As it does the ones that stand.
The whiteness settles overywhere.
It's gone when I touch your hand.
The morning is when we see the frost,
Yet we know it came the night before.
I've been awake, still it has come;
Quiet and cold to our locked door.
We have watched frost go.
Have you ever seen it start,
As it wanders up the gulch
And slinks into our hearts?
Then there's always morninig,
Or you suppose ther'll always be.
The sun the frost is melting
As we go on, you and me.
We need to talk more when it's forming,
Not just be glad when it's gone,
For, unlike flowers, we seen to wither,
Warmed only by the dawn.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Americans
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"gee my life's a funny thing, am i still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
Chorus (he)
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
Scanning life through the picture window
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her ford mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "where have all papa's heroes gone?"
Chorus (she)
All the way from washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"we live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
Chorus (he)
All night
He wants the young american
Young american, young american, he wants the young american
All right
He wants the young american
Do you remember, your president clinton?
Do you remember, bill, you have to pay
Or even yesterday?
Have you have been an un-american?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression?
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
Chorus (you)
All night
You want the young american
Young american, young american, you want the young american
All right
You want the young american
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a cadi and a lady got a chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
(i heard the news today, oh boy)
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man you can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman i can sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child i can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
Break down and cry?
Chorus (i) (repeat 3 times)
All night
I want the young american
Young american, young american, i want the young american
All right
I want the young american
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A BeAPoeIt Poem
I say I'm not a poet, For like of which I know it,
Rhymes absurd in metered word,
Describing not a poet
Edgar Allen knew it, The flying raven flew it,
The poems grow for Poe to know,
And Nevermore he drew it
Maya made to wing it, The caging bird to bring it,
With Angelou a freedom flow,
In Stilling bird to sing it
Robert's ride to sigh it, The road with just one by it,
Frost travels one concealing sun,
But Traveling to try it
I'll never be a poet, Descriptions rip to sew it,
Moving here and there with wear,
Encoding how I show it
poem by Paul Moosberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Being Asked For A War Poem
I THINK it better that in times like these
A poet's mouth be silent, for in truth
We have no gift to set a statesman right;
He has had enough of medding who can please
A young girl in the indolence of her youth,
Or an old man upon a winter's night.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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