The ancient Greek oral poets all had this anxiety about the deficiencies of their memories and always began poems by praying to the Muse to help them remember.
quote by David Antin

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Anxiety Hates Poems
Anxiety hates poems
It has no patience for them
It is out of place in them.
Anxiety does not have Beauty
And it does not have Hope
And it does not Love
And it does not have Music
It does not have
What makes so many poems live.
Anxiety hates poems
And Poetry is not so fond of it either.
poem by Shalom Freedman

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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd

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I Write Poems For Poets
I WRITE POEMS FOR POETS
I write poems for poets
Our situation as poets-
The longings the feelings
We so need to express-
The love of language-
The hunger for recognition-
The frequent rejection-
The kind word of a reader that moves-
Poems for poets
We as we each are
All so different-
And we as we share
Words and worlds
We hope to have read.
poem by Shalom Freedman

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A Fate of Top Poems!
Past poets were remarkable by their poems only;
But present poets are made remarkable by others!
Poetry of the past are no doubt top poems ever;
But poetry of the top are not listed in top poems!
Becoming top poets how can theirs have no place
Among the top poems of the poetry list? I wonder!
Touch stone of the top poems depends on merit
But not by the supports of friends for fun ever!
Poems of lasting value only can become classic;
But poems of no merit also have become classic!
Poetry of the past are romantic and also classic
But poetry of the present are neither but modern!
What is the yardstick to select poems as top ones -
Just support of some but not merit and meaning?
poem by Ramesh T A

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So Many Poets
so many poets
so many poems
all popping up like mushrooms after the lightning and thunder
no one comes to see
no one comes to say the mushrooms are not so white not so good
so many poems
so many poets
the readers are few, the readers are lesser
but what can you do?
what do you expect?
well, i am just writing my diary, and i am the reader who reads it myself
to ease this pain,
to let myself know that with all my unrequited loves, i still dare to write
and exist.
and i don't really care.
so many poets
look at these poems
they all look and sound the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Click On 'Poets
When you enter,
Click on 'Poets' and then,
Type in my full name: 'Edward Kofi Louis';
There and then, it will open automatically to my page! !
And, you can read my poems.
Sage, page, cage, rage, mage, marriage, wage;
From time to time!
But not like a runaway dog in the land of your muse;
For, the cat is always in your room.
Fine, dine, wine, vine, cine, sine, line, pine, mine, nine, shine;
Inperfect health,
On to perfection! !
But, it has been a while hearing from you.
Of the miracles of my life,
Of the joy of my muse,
Of the peace of my mind,
And like the muse of your sweet love!
But, not like a runaway dog in the land of your muse.
In the heat,
In the cold,
And like the candlelight of your love!
But click on 'Poets' to find my sweet muse;
For, i do have a message for you.
We are all over there,
Poets of the world! !
But, it has been a very long time hearing from you;
Vender, finder, blender, winder, lender, mender, tender, sender!
And like the muse of love in the land of peace,
But, be my guest at this page.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Reading Fellow Poets
always like some poems
elements within some poems
it is the nature of serious poets
to like poems by other poets
poem by Terence George Craddock

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Memories
Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories
Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories
Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories
Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories
Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours
Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too
Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories
poem by Adam McKim

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So Many Poets So Many Poems
SO MANY POETS SO MANY POEMS
So many poets so many poems-
Must I remain forever unknown?
poem by Shalom Freedman

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I Read and Reread/ The Poets I Love
I READ AND REREAD/ THE POETS I LOVE
I read and reread
The poets I love-
I seek new poets
To love poetry more with-
I write my own small poems
And read them again occasionally-
Sometimes I find in them lines
I want to return to
And remember.
If only I could be such a stranger to myself
That I in reading a poem of my own
Would know it belongs to Literature.
poem by Shalom Freedman

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Praying To The Aliens
Slowly the thought
There is no one to replace
Came into view
And he began to cry
Now only boys
That love only boys
The perfect picture
Of a boy/girl age
Im praying to the aliens
Im praying to the aliens
Grey overcoat
And he could be anyone
A random poll check
Do you ever think of women?
They broke him down
Into a torn old queen
Living somewhere
Between dead and dying
Im praying to the aliens
Im praying to the aliens
There are no more
Do you begin to see?
The corner of my eye
Could give me away
Isnt it strange
How times change?
I cant imagine
Living any other way
Im praying to the aliens
Im praying to the aliens
song performed by by Gary Numan

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Delivered To A Place That Dispenses Wings
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
And told they'd be there with us,
For the rest of our lives.
With a tolerance of them...
While others kept us suppressed.
As we continue to solicit,
A disrespecting done of our identities.
There is a need to awaken,
From this mental disease.
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
Well...
They are not,
Brandings of birth marks.
They are implications we kept...
With an expectation,
That one day if we stayed praying...
We would be delivered to a place,
That dispenses wings!
Dieing is a process!
Living the gift of life is a determination...
Some have refused to do,
Without the approval of acceptance.
From those sought to impress.
And if anyone has a need to ask,
To live a life that has been divinely given...
A praying done,
Is an unconscious routine.
Much like feeding an expectation,
That does not with 'intention' connect to the 'source'...
Through the doing of the process of living one's life!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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I Have No Curses In My Poems, No Insults
I have no curses in my poems no insults-
I have no hatred in my poems
I do not have much anger-
Fear I have and anxiety also
Worry and sadness yes
But putting down and demeaning – no-
My poems are the person I am
A small voice that would be kind.
poem by Shalom Freedman

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My recovery (21 POEMS)
Twenty one...some number
Twenty one poems I can’t remember
21....waiting for you to re-discover
If only I could have seen this story foretold
It hurts to know they never had the chance to see the world
They were my hidden acclamation
All they ever wanted was a public proclamation
I didn’t because they were conceived by my emotion
As d old saying goes 'it probably happen for a reason'
21 poems all gone
In the middle of the night someone broke into my home
Twenty one poems all gone
Why did I only save them in my phone?
I miss my babies
Now they’re just fading memories
I desperately try 2 remember
It’s sooooo hard to conceive (write) another
SiGH *mylostlove*
poem by Anita Khelawan

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Time Choice
to read poets
their poems
is time choice
actually poet
would write
more superior
poems
if educated read
other poets?
interacted more
nothing happens
in still isolation?
poem by Terence George Craddock

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Always My Bonnie Lass
My bonnie lass, your in my past
Wondering were you are now
You were my thoughts, but them I lost
As from my memories they have been plowed.
I think of you, when I am in the mood
To bring a smile upon my face
And your also there, in my prayer
Praying those memories would be replaced.
I think of us, and what once was
With a happiness in my soul and heart
And the things we done, underneath the sun
While praying that never we would part.
I call your name, when I am in pain
But never do you answer that call
So I shed a tear, which you will not hear
If only you could see what I have saw.
I remember our vows, as though they are now
As that time for me it will never pass
When you close yours eyes, I will be there inside
As you will will always be my bonnie Lass.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave

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There are two ways of constructing a software design. One way is to make it so simple that there are obviously no deficiencies, and the other way is to make it so complicated that there are no obvious deficiencies. The first method is far more difficult.
quote by C.A.R. Hoare

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Millions of unpublished poems
MILLIONS OF UNPUBLISHED POEMS
Millions of unpublished poems
Written by millions of would- be- poets
Wait for their never- to- be- had recognition
And the poets and the poems
Go on in all their unknownness and loneliness
Waiting for the day of discovery
Which will never come.
We are all lost
We are all alone
No one will ever be anything
This poem too goes on the pile
Of endless non-recognition and neglect
Which we feel and speak our way
Through and out of this world.
poem by Shalom Freedman

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I Have Read Many Poems I Know I Never Could Have Written
I have read many poems I know I never could have written
Poems whose language was far richer and more remarkable than mine
Poems that saw as I cannot see and sounded as I cannot sound
Poems of magnificent music and many hidden meanings
I have read many poems greater than those I could ever write
And have been humbled and saddened and inspired by them
Out there somewhere else
There have been real poets
And I in my own little lines
Love and respect them.
poem by Shalom Freedman

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