The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.
quote by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Poet, O Poet
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Your imagination is our wealth
Your imagination is our health
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Create things on your own
In your own world my dear poet
That is not known and that is owned.
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
We have no control over anything
We have no control over the land
That is dreamy.
It is only you O poet
Who can control us from that land
Where nothing to be shame
Where no body is there to blame
Where there is only fame and fame.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover Lover Lover
I asked my father,
I said, father change my name.
The one Im using now its covered up
With fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
He said, I locked you in this body,
I meant it as a kind of trial.
You can use it for a weapon,
Or to make some woman smile.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Then let me start again, I cried,
Please let me start again,
I want a face thats fair this time,
I want a spirit that is calm.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
I never never turned aside, he said,
I never walked away.
It was you who built the temple,
It was you who covered up my face.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
And may the spirit of this song,
May it rise up pure and free.
May it be a shield for you,
A shield against the enemy.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me,
Yes and lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover come back to me.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Marry A Poet
The great seasgull is now in the sky! !
Fantasy;
But, you are at the seaside waiting for your lover because,
You want to marry a poet.
Arts and nature!
Love is in the air;
Because, everything around us are part of the beauty of nature! !
And like the sweet muse of love to educate the mind.
Imagination,
Life,
Peace and love;
But you are ready to learn from everybody and,
You want ot marry a poet!
And, this poem is for you my love.
How lovely is your heart?
How lovely is your muse?
How lovely is your mind?
For, the great seagull in now in the sky! !
And, you are at the seaside waiting for your lover because,
You want to marry a poet.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Great Write...
Every poem is an invitation
for the readers to use their imagination
a vehicle licensed
to carry passengers
who sometimes have a greater imagination
than the poet
even perhaps get more from the poem
than the poet knowingly put in
which you must admit
if with a slight embarrassment
as you read the words of praise
is a divine joke
and from the divine viewpoint
very practical since
every reader is an invitation
for the poets to match their imagination
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just You Just Me (Instrumental)
(j. greer, r. klarges)
Just you, just me
Let's find a cozy spot
To cuddle and woo.
Just us, just we
I've missed an awful lot
My trouble is you.
Oh, gee!
What are your charms for?
What are my arms for?
Use your imagination!
Just you, just me
I'll tie a lover's knot
Around wonderful you.
~interlude~
Oh, gee!
What are your charms for?
What are my arms for?
Use your imagination!
Just you, just me
I'll tie a lover's knot
Tie a lover's knot
Tie a lover's knot
Around wonderful you.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery Beauty allures the poet;
Poet waits a while for a little delight.
Admires the art of creations;
Pervading the mystery of Beauty she frees tension.
Silvery Beauty allures delightfully;
Poet drinks the nectar of Beauty gaily.
The vehicle waits a while on the path;
Poet enchants with mirth.
Beauty is a gift of Almighty;
Lover enjoys with Delight.
Beauty enchants mind, heart miraculously;
Lover functions duty delightfully.
Poet heart reminisces Beauty’s face with gaiety;
He derives peace and delight;
All beautiful things are attracting;
In the lap of Nature are delighting.
Beauty appears with peace and pleasure;
Contents lover’s desire.
Beauty is a Deity;
Lover prays with gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Brain Damage
The lunatic is on the grass.
The lunatic is on the grass.
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.
The lunatic is in the hall.
The lunatics are in my hall.
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more.
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being A Poet
being a poet
is not an ambition
it is ironic
that i do poetry and
yet i do not want
to be called a poet
nor be identified with
any movement in poetry
nor take the challenge and opportunity
of being crowned by laurel leaves
and be dragged on the stage of
an island of light focusing my head and body
and they shall all clap and say
this is the poet, this is our poet
not in the figment of my imagination
not an ambition not a profession not a career in the field of literature
to be a poet on a certain degree
you see, i live in a crowded universe
i am a fish in the sea of people
and i, never imagine once in my whole life
that i will be swimming so meaninglessly in the corridors
of this vast ocean of men and mice and snakes
and goats and pigs and eagles
poetry is what i do but i am not a poet
this poet, that poet
their poet
the reason is here inside my heart
this is my place &
this is my only chance to be alone
to be myself to be human again for out there
i, we, you have become pillars
and dams.and walls and continental shelves
it is only here in this spot
that i become my island
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Touch Of My Hand
I'm not ashamed of the things that I dream
I find myself flirting with the verge of obscene
Into the unknown, I will be bold
And go to new places I can be out of control
And I don't want to explain tonight
All the things I've tried to hide
I shut myself out from the world so I
Can draw the blinds and I'll teach myself to fly
I love myself
It's not a sin
I can't control what's happenin'
'Cause I've just discovered
Imagination's taking over
Another day without a lover
The more I come to understand
The touch of my hand
The small of my back, the arch of my feet
Lately I've been noticing the beautiful, me
I'm all in my skin and I'm not gonna wait
I'm into myself in the most precious way
And I don't want to explain tonight
All the things I've tried to hide
I shut myself out from the world so I
Can draw the blinds and I'll teach myself to fly
'Cause I've just discovered
Imagination's taking over
Another day without a lover
The more I come to understand
The touch of my hand
There's a world undefined
In my body and mind
I won't be left behind
I'm already here
'Cause I've just discovered
Imagination's taking over
Another day without a lover
The more I come to understand
The touch of my hand
'Cause I've just discovered
Imagination's taking over
Another day without a lover
The more I come to understand
The touch of my hand
Hey, hey, hey, oh, oh, oh, yeah
Hey, hey, hey, oh, oh, oh, yeah, yeah
song performed by by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The lunatic and the great.
I dream at night what the lunatic does in day.
I do in day what the great do at night
I am neither lunatic nor the great.
I am either lunatic or the great yet.
19.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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This Poet Is Always Beside You
You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Innocent Face Vavroovahana Patra
The innocent face allures the poet in the morn;
The Beauty magnifies the beauty of the dawn.
Mind derives peace;
Poet lives with Divine Bliss.
Poet is a lover of Beauty;
Beautiful things enchant the poet with gaiety.
Loves Silvery face delightfully;
Loves innocent hearts silently.
Vernal chilly Breeze kisses the crisp hair delightfully;
Fragrance of Beauty bathes poet's body with gaiety.
Poet is inspired to remain in a world of peace;
Praying in the lap of Nature derives Divine Bliss.
Innocent rural Beauty proceeds silently;
Poet, a lover of Beauty, beholds enthusiastically.
Innocence provides delight;
Inspiration is a Brook of Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet is free
Poet is free
No grammarian can guide the poet
Do not tell before a poet you are dare
And I know there are so many grammarians
With so many grammars
The poet is one with truth with love
All the grammars old middle modern
Are of no use for a poet
At the time of poet's thought
Poet's love poet's poetry
Nobody can search research poet's history
Nobody can dare to described poet
Poet can create his own language
His own grammar and it does not bother the poet
Whether you like it or not
Leave the poet on his own way
It is better you to read him love him
If you are alive.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Your Imagination
Lyrics & music: daryl hall
I remember when i used to be the jealous kind
I got over it, now you're taking over my old line
You're caring too much about what i say
You're wondering too much about what i do
And baby, your imagination
Imagination's got the best of you
I ain't doin' nothing that you could really say was wrong
Just one oversight and no that didn't last too long
Listen, you're caring too much about what i say
You're wondering too much about what i do
And baby, your imagination
Imagination's got the best of you
Don't know what you're looking for
What's this thing about "true blue"
You know i ain't no danger boy
You're the one i like to touch, touch you, you
When the mood is right, change the light and the moment's gone
Better turn around, 'cause the light doesn't last too long
You're caring too much about what i say
You're wondering too much about what i do
And baby, your imagination
Imagination's got the best of you
Imagination, your imagination
Imagination, use your imagination.
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poet And Woman
Woman, you are incomplete without poet,
Poet, you are also imperfect without woman.
The soil is incomple without the root of trees,
The sky is incomple without the clouds,
stars or the shining Moon,
The river is dead without the dancing of waves,
And, the poet's heart is a desert without a woman's love.
The forest is incomplete without the wild animals,
The sun is lost in darkness without its light,
The trees are but a row of emptiness-
without the chirping of the birds,
And, a woman is but half without a poet's imagination.
poem by Nazmul Haque
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Confederation is a compact, made originally by four provinces but adhered to by all the nine provinces who have entered it, and I submit to the judgment of this house and to the best consideration of its members, that this compact should not be lightly altered.
quote by Wilfrid Laurier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I may have been a complete lunatic, but I was a complete lunatic with manners.
Maureen Johnson in Let It Snow (2012)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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In The Labelling
labeling is an art form
a breathing for every breath taken away
a laxative for every comprehension constipated
demanding bite-sized of big-picture menacing
stamping caricature on white canvas uncertain.
pointing the whore out of a lover,
the hedonist out of a masochist,
the lunatic out of a genius,
the slave out of a businessman,
the monster out of a patriot.
apparently.
when persona riddles appropriated
for an unburdening from cloak obscure
through blindness claiming sight restored
playing pretend out of blows low
labeling is an art form.
pointing to the fatherless in a whore,
to the malady in a hedonist,
to the awareness in a lunatic,
to the repression in a slave
to the victim in a monster.
apparently.
so this we ought to know:
we are artists.
poem by Chris Jelens
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