Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.
quote by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreamer's Paradise
The dark meadows of sin and the hidden treasure
The silver lake only covered by the snow
A writer torn apart by flames of hate, of love and pain
The last performance of an escapist, seeker of beauty
We live like the sun and the moon and the everlasting space
A poet is one who stays under the rain hoping to be struck by lighting
Under the ever washing rain we live and die
Release the tears of heaven may our sins be cleansed
Her poetry had long been without name, without destiny
Now, from the other life she smiles at us, and writes
The verses stopped, and her breath was muffled
Six feet underground she writes not for us, but for the dead
His poetry had long been mislead and misread
The tears dropped onto the ground like rain drops
It is the end of all hope, the end of his life
Yet the poetry still breathes
Poetry is a mirror, a mirror of sin
It makes beautiful that which is distorted
Search for beauty in the gardens
Acquire the knowledge of the wises, find your shoreline
The sunset is here, soon there will be rain
Where will be when it comes?
Breathe my poetry and burn my words
The rain is here, the shoreline is near
Search your shoreline, find beauty.
poem by Amy Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is
poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry
poem by Daniel Romero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Distorted Angel
Strange things seem to occur, somewhere behind the nursery door
Though I was just a bit of a kid, it was the bit that she was looking for
Now I dont know where to begin confessing
The way shes making me feel it cant be a sin
I was taught to believe you were looking down on everyone
And your benevolent face is beautiful to gaze upon
Now I just dont know who to tell to go to hell
Who put the old devil in the distorted angel?
Distorted angel
Pure illuminated sweetness
Frightening small children is just about your only weakness
I thought that you would tell me what Im living for
But I cant see you anymore
I dont know what we did but Im sorry if it made you cry
And if theres any justice at all Id be punished for it Id surmise
It will mark the spot very well where I fell
Under the shadow of the distorted angel
Beneath the shadow of the distorted angel
Below the shadow of the distorted angel
Angel
Beneath the shadow of the distorted angel
Below the shadow of the distorted angel
Angel
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind The Mirror
Behind the mirror,
sits to watch
the fawning boy a man.
A man she wants
that boy to be.
Behind round eyes
the man
'she' longs to see.
The mirror only shows
her why
it can not be.
Though He 'Said'
'You are beautiful'
The mirror in her hand
Her,
'Daddy said'
Come on hurry up child
or you will be late for school
again.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard
Poetry Is
Poetry is when she wakes up with a smile on her angel face and says thank you for watching over my breathe all night, its when I hold her and she says I miss missing you even when I’m right there next to her.
Her EYES are the mother of poetry, one of a kind, her SMILE is the goddess of poetry, rare and beautiful, her VOICE is the heaven of poetry, so sweet and gentle.
When she loves me she does so with all the poetry she has inside her, , , everything about her is poetry, her poetry speaks to me without saying anything, it touches me without holding me, it makes me feel even without her near me
SHE IS POETRY IN MY SOUL, IN MY MIND, IN MY HEART.
poem by Tendai Maturure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Poetry Was
When Poetry was beautiful
Everything was beautiful
Too beautiful to desire
When Poetry educated
Everything was amazing
Too amazing to know
When Poetry was visionary
Everything was believable
Nothing was impossible
When Poetry was political
Everything mattered
Especially knowing why
When poetry died
Humanity plummeted
Into the abyss of technology
4/22/12
poem by Tim caffery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirror Me
Do you know who is beautiful?
Mirror me, you will know you are.
Do you know who has the brightest face?
Mirror through my eyes, you will know it is you.
Do you know who has the sweetest taste?
Just mirror through my tongue, you will know you are.
Do you know why I said you are amazing?
Please mirror through my heart, you will see you are wonderful.
Do you know why I said you are nice?
Just mirror through my eyes, you know you are the nicest.
I am the mirror that never lie.
A mirror that you can trust
Even when broken, I still reflects
That you are the most beautiful,
Cool and charming
Priceless and passionate
Starry and the sweetest
Mirror through my heart, you will believe what I said.
Here comes my love for you, please click and comfirm......! ! !
poem by Naseeru Taneemu Annuree
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A hand mirror
lightning
thunder
the storm
the calm
the chill
a hand mirror
my eyes
my nose
mouth
hair
face
a hand mirror
anguish
fear
pain
joy
happi ness
a hand mirror
spring
summer
autumn
winter
a hand mirror
childhood
teenager years
adulthood
old age
a hand mirror
poetry runs
outside
written by the gods
in multi-dimensions
a hand mirror
poetry runs inside
that all the outside
portrays so correctly
- i cry
a hand mirror
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem Between My Legs
Do you think about something beautiful?
One you can also touch
Something also beautiful
Think of my poetry
That would be pretty
But I can give you more
Than that
Something more beautiful really
Lies between my legs
Greater, stronger
And more beautiful
Than my poetry.
Oh common
Thinking something more beautiful
Beyond that?
Then, grab it with your
Honest hands.
Or your trembling lips
This poetry
Between my legs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reflection
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why do I look in you, at all,
For all I see is the same old me,
And not how I so want to be.
Mirror, mirror on the stairs,
Why do you show me many years,
A face with wrinkles everywhere,
Would anybody like my share.
Mirror, mirror near my bed,
In you I look with certain dread,
For creams and potions just don't work,
Behind them still the wrinkles lurk.
Mirror, mirror in the hall,
Seeing you makes me recall,
That I am now of senior age,
Well stuck into the wrinkles stage.
Mirror, mirror by the door,
How I hate you more and more,
I'm having to look the other way,
When my reflection's on display.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
Poetry is the air I breathe
Poetry is the words that feed
My soul
To make me whole
Poetry is what makes me blossom
In the middle of spring
Poetry is what grows my garden
And makes it flourish with nature
Beauty
Poetry Is
My magical whim's that supply all my
Fantasy and fills my hopes and dreams
Poetry is the strong desire that keep the
Flames of love burning
In the midst of the hour
And lights up the sky
With beautiful hues of colours
Spreads from one globe to
Another
To swim the ocean deep
Just because of love
Poetry is that and more, which I
Hate to carry this on and on
But
Poetry is the love of our life that visit
Us in our dreams
Poetry is
Me and the worlds that wakes every
Morning to bloom and blossom
Even after the death has played it last
Song that breaks our hearts
Poetry is tears and moans
Grief and pain that Hunt's the
Soul
Poetry is the rain crying from
The sky
The sun the moon with the golden
Light
Poetry is a child laughter at play
The tears a child shreds in sadness
They cry
Poetry is just a book of songs you
And I write down in our journal
Each and every day
We
Mix them together again and again
That is poetry
Poetry is life woes
Life happiness
Poetry is life
Here now and after
Poetry is you and I
poem by Carolyn Sears
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fragments Of My Poetry
The fragments of my poetry
Mirror the tempests green
The billows black and frothing
In my breast.
The fragments of my poetry
Are chromosomes littered randomly
But from them the body of poetry
Can rise.
The fragments of my poetry
Are like the broken mirror:
That I broke silently -
My heart is broken.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You are my poetry
You are my poetry
You are the beautiful words
Written by my pen
You are my inspiration
You inspire words of happiness
You inspire a smile upon my face
A smile that is able to create
A whole new world of poetry
Poetry of just you and me
You are my poetry
I join you within the words
Within something that makes everything happy
Within something that makes me happy
poem by Rebecca Rowback
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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18 Definitions Of Poetry
1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is Poetry? ? ? ? ?
Poetry is the WORST FELLING
that make me CRY
Poetry is like a CROCODILE
Eating its PREYPoetry is a monster,
That its the brains up.
Poetry is like a VILLIAN
That makes my brain ROT
poetry is a WHICH
that makes my brain FLY
Poetry is the WORST FEELING
that makes me CRY
poem by Sarah Iqbal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mirror Struggled
The mirror struggled; reflecting beauty such as hers
Prescribed a glory in the challenge – a fairytale
Or such as like! To shimmer back hypnotic hues
From auras of her skin – how do mirrors cope?
Hoary tales of pretty adolescent buds
Could never hope to match the tomes of dreamy
Pulchritude apprising us of such a belle as she.
The mirror shone; and as it worked itself, a moment –
Did it overlook the hidden melancholy?
Were melting eyes bedewed–? Florid lips imbued
With mournfulness? The hindrance of the silver glass!
Oh! to seek – to know the meaning of the sorrow!
She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven)
Never opened up her heart. The mirror struggled.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poems As Diary
to know me
there is no other but this poetry
to know poetry however
please do not read
my diary
for this diary may fail the standards
of your poetry
but at any rate everyday poetry is a diary
what makes us fume like a mad cow
what makes us whistle like a satisfied lover
what makes us surrender in defeat and shout victory in triumphs
little things and big things
all summed up
in this new thing: diary as poetry
and poetry as diary.
we do not even have to rhyme
does life rhyme at all my friend?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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