Jacques Maritain

The poet knows himself only on the condition that things resound in him, and that in him, at a single awakening, they and he come forth together out of sleep.

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Condition Critical

Oh the tension's mounting
The pressure starts to show
All the men in haunting
Please don't let me go
(Don't go)
Try to free my body
(Don't go)
Try to strap me down
(Don't go)
These'll never break me
(Don't go)
Free wheel to look at me
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
The bells they are ringing
Or is it in my head
My nerves numb understanding
I'm falling out of bed
(Don't go)
So call it paranoia
(Don't go)
I don't see it that way
(Let's go)
You say I adore ya
(Hell no)
We're gonna rock they way
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
Ooh ooh
Whips and chains
Don't feel no pain
What's so wrong
I think I'm going out of my head
Over heels
I can't feel
No pain, only pleasure
Get me out
Take me home
Can't you see my condition
Woo-woo-woo
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical (Cynical)
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition-aca

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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 FreedmanReport problemRelated quotes
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Just Dropped In

To see what condition my condition was in)
(mickey newbury)
(yeah, yeah, oh-yeah, what condition my condition was in)
I woke up this mornin with the sundown shinin in
I found my mind in a brown paper bag within
I tripped on a cloud and fell-a eight miles high
I tore my mind on a jagged sky
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in
(yeah, yeah, oh-yeah, what condition my condition was in)
I pushed my soul in a deep dark hole and then I followed it in
I watched myself crawlin out as I was a-crawlin in
I got up so tight I couldnt unwind
I saw so much I broke my mind
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in
(yeah, yeah, oh-yeah, what condition my condition was in)
Someone painted april fool in big black letters on a dead end sign
I had my foot on the gas as I left the road and blew out my mind
Eight miles outta memphis and I got no spare
Eight miles straight up downtown somewhere
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in
I said I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in
Yeah yeah oh-yeah

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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 EllisonReport problemRelated quotes
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Poem about Poetry - a premature death

to let the poet in them die
their mind must have fallen
flat like a corpse
cant the moon not be
made a queen so that
she could doze off in the
light of his care?
nay, of course, they
did not let the poet go to sleep

he was wrapped
and bundled away in the
shadows of the day
by the flood of sweats
to bring the food on the table
by the torrent of thoughts
to get life smooth sailing

the poet, the poet, he can
sleep for a while and hopefull
will not die too prematurely

poem by John Tiong ChunghooReport problemRelated quotes
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Single Is Fair

Single
I am single
Question of double
Does not arise.

I am single
Only single.

Single sun
Single moon
Single earth
Single air
Single sky
Sngle water
Single fire
Single soul
Single body
All are there
All are fair.
Single is single
Single is beautiful
Single is fair.

poem by Gajanan MishraReport problemRelated quotes
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The Mix-Up

One winter morning
Upon awakening from a long night sleep
All characters got mixed up with their authors
Including Pinocchio
Who could not decide what was real:
Had he dreamt of being Carlo Collodi
Or was it that Carlo Collodi was dreaming
Of being Pinocchio?

This occurred long after
Upon awakening from a long night sleep
Zhuang Zi woke up from his dream
And was at a loss to figure out
How real was real and asked:
Had he dreamt of being a butterfly
Or was it rather that a butterfly
Was dreaming of being Zhuang Zi?

The next day
As she woke up from a long night sleep
An elephant got mixed up with a crocodile
And she could not decide what was real:
Had she dreamt of being a crocodile
Or was it rather that a crocodile
Was dreaming of being an elephant?

Two years later
Upon awakening from a long night sleep
The moon became confused with the sun
And it could not decide what was real:
Had it dreamt of being the sun
Or was it that the sun was dreaming
Of being the moon?

And in a rare unguarded state of mind
Upon awakening from a long night sleep
God got embarrassed for the muddle
But she could not decide what was real:
Had she dreamt of being Man
Or was it rather that Man
Was dreaming of being God?

poem by Paul HartalReport problemRelated quotes
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Dedicated to ppl who dont sleep

Sleep, sleep, sleep
It’s magnificent and nice,
With dreams beyond wonder,
Sleep! sleep! sleep!

Sleep, sleep, sleep
Eyes tightly closed,
A little smile on you r cheeks,
Feeling the ambiance
Of the pure and precious sleep,
Sleep! sleep! sleep!

Sleep, sleep, sleep
Forgetting insane things of the mixed world outside
Relax my dear, feel the gentle breeze,
Do not worry about tomorrow, do not weep,
Wake up fresh in the morning with a recuperate mind,
Fresh and blessed with a wonderful sleep,
SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP!

poem by Tejaswini IyerReport problemRelated quotes
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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 LouisReport problemRelated quotes
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The Poets

an old woman poet,
stood behind the table,
doling out plate after plate,
to the line of faces...
taking the time...
to ask each their name.

a young student poet,
jerked from the picket line,
beaten, and arrested...
now sits in jail.

the young man poet,
just home after a 12 hour shift,
went next door and mowed
his elderly neighbor's grass.

a young girl poet,
took in the stray cat,
fed it, and held it...
and rocked it to sleep.

the poor poet,
makes a pallot on the floor
of his empty room,
for the homeless to sleep on.

the old man poet,
goes to work again,
minimum wage with a smile,
to feed his sick wife...

the common poet,
build houses, works on machines,
tills gardens, works on cars...
treats everyone the same...
and no one knows his name!

poem by Eric CockrellReport problemRelated quotes
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The life of a Poet

The poet listens
the poet hears
he writes down
all his fears.
He observes things
that others don't
going to places
that others won't.
Inspired by simple things
like a sound or smell
the poet has lots
of stories to tell.
Even when asleep
his mind isn't at rest
in fact this is the time
it's at it's creative best.
The poet can be a restless soul
his life reflected on the page
some verse can be sweet and mild
then full of anger and rage.
The poet can be mysterious
and write in a strange way
he will say Black is White
and that night is day.
The poet is an artist
but instead of paint it's the word
painters want their work to be seen
but poets just need to be heard.

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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.

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Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!

SLEEP

Sleep, sleep, sleep
It’s magnificent and nice,
With dreams beyond wonder,
Sleep! sleep! sleep!

Sleep, sleep, sleep
Eyes tightly closed,
A little smile on you r cheeks,
Feeling the warm sensations
Of the pure and precious sleep,
Sleep! sleep! sleep!

Sleep, sleep, sleep
Forgetting insane things of the mixed world outside
Relax my little one, feel the gentle breeze,
Do not worry about tomorrow, do not weep,
Wake up fresh in the morn with a recuperated mind,
Fresh and blessed with a wonderful sleep,
SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP!


JERINE JAMES (3RD JULY 07)

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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.

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Robert Frost

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.

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Robert Graves

To be a poet is a condition rather than a profession.

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Who to blame for writers block?

Risen up from his cold dark tomb
the malevolent poet is alive again
his evil master has given him power
to confuse poets and bring them pain.
He's invisible to the poets eye
and he doesn't make a sound
his mission is to bring writers block
to all poets everywhere around.
The unaware poet stares at a blank screen
unable to create one single verse
the satanic force takes over his mind
his thoughts go from bad to worse.
The romantic poet thinks about death
his thoughts no longer on love and light
he wants to write about misery and war
and things that go bump in the night.
So the next time you can't write a poem
and your sitting there full of despair
you now know it's not you who's at fault
but it's the evil poet and he's over there!

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Time Slips Away for Love

There is an awakening
That occurs in a life,
A perception of truth:
The glory of being
Or the sadness of existing,
The passion expressed
Or the passion suppressed.

Beautiful poet Petrarch
Wrote love poems for Laura
Long after her death
While some men will sleep
In the same bed with a woman
For thirty years for whom
They didn’t love to discover
Their life is nearly over.

Meet me along the river at dusk
And we’ll await the arrival
Of new stars.

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Clear and Widened Eyes

An awakening is occurring.
Many seeing things for the first time...
Seem to acknowledge the act of breathing,
As if never done before.
There is a consciousness now about it.

The morning dawns.
Appearing as the Sun rises on the horizon.
And more are viewing it shakened from a deep sleep.
As if recently distributed as replacements...
Clear and widened eyes!

poem by Lawrence S. PertillarReport problemRelated quotes
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We have made mistakes. In our haste to do all things for all people, we did not foresee the full consequences of our actions. And when the people raised their voices, we didn't hear. But our deafness was only a temporary condition, and not an irreversible condition.

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