I have a notebook with me all the time, and I begin scribbling a few words. When things are going well, the walk does not get anywhere; I finally just stop and write.
quote by Mary Oliver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Fear My Own Silence
I FEAR MY OWN SILENCE
I fear my own silence
I fear the end in life in writing
Before my life has ended-
I force myself to go on
I feel my own inadequacy
I feel I am writing poor lines.
I sense it would make more sense to stop
I should stop
I can’t stop
I need to write
Even if my writing is only the scribbling of an amateur fool who has wasted his life in words and more words
I write this now in the darkness before the morning has begun
Will I walk to Shul this morning justified?
Or do I know these lines now too
More of the same self- indulgent nonsense
No one needs but myself?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Spot....
this is a blank slate.
when i write some words on it
and you begin to read each
something really happens
though you do not know it
because you are too busy with
the reading of the word
either a part of me dies or lives
it depends on where you stop
and when
tomorrow i shall write again
you must learn where you stopped and
when.
it is that precise moment
that you make me begin to write again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Writing
unlike those who have already names
encrypted in royal tablets
i, this candid, good-for-nothing
scribbler
servant of the simple words,
direct from the heart
a knife of my mind
stabbing sleepy somethings
and someone Else's
hereby offer you the most straightforward request
that for you to be one of us
there is only one thing to do
think for yourself and write for yourself
and do the things you like to do with sincerity
you may read much
a roomful of books written by those who had been there
centuries ahead of us
but always take note
you are either more or less than them
perhaps in reality
much lesser and this will be a big
dismay
a retrogression
a depression for not being one with/of them
in tone and performance
they are expert acrobats in the theater of words
as you begin this journey finally
relax, be cool, as i am telling you,
begin from the heart
walk with the free and open mind
let your hands fall freely
beside your thighs and then step outside the door
take that walk casually
as though you are heading for nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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The Fear Of Being Followed...
i am afraid that my words have become your fetters,
so i stop talking
but the more i keep the silence within the frame
like a painting
the more i feel the brokenness of
my face
i touch each portion with the fingers
only to feel the roughness of
my soul
i am afraid i am clearing a path for you to follow me
you think it is a right direction and you write my name in your notebook
i am paranoia
look, there is no path, this is not the path, this path is
merely an attempt
to find my world, not yours,
i am afraid that i may be responsible for another loss,
and so i quit
i still have other places to go
each step i erase like a scribbling of a chalk on the board
there is no scent in my
vowels, no color in my consonants
look, look inside your throat
there is something red there like a sunset
there is no shadow of a tree
in fact, there is nothing there
to fill the thirst
and the hunger
i leave you now,
and for sure, i assure you, you will be happier
without me
if you follow me still,
the rope shall win.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As I Am Writing This
when i begin to write the words
i pause
for some regrets and i look
at another window
where life is
unfolding a scene
it is something lustful out there
but i watch closely
what is it in them that clicks
to a switch of my flesh
and then i write again
because outside it is colder
and the temperature is freezing
some muscles
and then i write again
closing another window
i go inside
and open another door
i find the words
but i stop right there
right here
the words that need only to
be spoken
they cannot be written.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gotnothintodo2day
got nothing to do 2day
just scribbling and chatting to a friend
who is also pretending to be someone else
feigning happiness and embracing all the sadness
like, well, i have to admit,
like us.
i don't even know if i have to stop scribbling
whatshamakalit, a poem? gee,
i don't know
i am simply unstoppable,
bad, and too
earthly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Addiction for M lady Kim
Addiction
I’ll exercise self discipline.
Today I will not write a word.
I have decided it’s no sin.
This constant scribbling’s absurd.
I choose a book and start to read
but then some phrase enraptures me.
Quite suddenly I feel the need
I have to write and urgently,
Before my train of thought is lost
I find my pad take up my pen
and writing in the style of Frost.
I find I’m scribbling again.
My muse cannot contain her glee.
She knows that she’s in charge not me.
20-Aug-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Me
Ask me how I'm doing? 'Very good I say '
My life is good, bad memories I try and keep away
I write as therapy to get me through
All the pain from the past, when I was blue
I write alot of things, about my life
I write about things that brought me strife
I am constantly thinking what to write about
Sometimes I write so I have no need to shout
Sometimes I write straight from my heart
Maybe helping others to get a brand new start
Alot of time depression comes sneaking in
And that's when I get out my paper and pen
I look around me and will always see
That there are those that had it worse than me
I write as a hobby because I enjoy it so
It makes all the bad things have to go
I'm not usually sad by any means
Sometimes insecure, thats from my genes
I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me
My life is good and I'm finally free
So if this explains me a little bit
I think this poem I will submit!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Fresh Notebook
She bought me a fresh notebook
To write my deepest thoughts
Deliver up my soul
Daily to her
A hard serrated border
Thick along the spine
Designed to pay tribute in words
An opening address
A nod a wink
Initialled in my best
Invisible ink
I turn a new leaf over
Another page, far from
A new beginning
Or a new address
A naked page where I confess
My deepest wish
To sleep with you
On sheets of winter snow
One day I'll write
A sonnet for your eyes
Smiling like the cold sunlight
And close the notebook shut
Liberating me
From sharp parallel lines
And you will feed
Your hungered soul
On pages of my life
poem by Frank Bana
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We Pretend We Play With Words
to soothe the choking effects of the day,
and those days that come to us like two walls
while we lay helpless in between, we pretend
we pretend to play with words, like we are simply
children scribbling words on the floor beyond
the ambit of paper
we pretend that this writing is nothing but little games.
we like to be just light feathers floating in the wind
looking at the petal of the flower
trying to choose which patch of grass to land,
we pretend this is just that
doodles, noodles, needles, neddles, doddles,
we pretend that this writing poetry has nothing to do
with what we are: feelings like words in a crossword puzzle
we tinker with meanings, we like to experiment with moods,
like handpainting on the walls and spraying paint
at the fences of our bad neighbors
trying to evade laws, of falling and flying and rising and dropping,
this is just a play of words, do not ask me again if i am in between the
lines if there are tears there, or that laughter and mockery is hidden
underneath the cover of heavy sheets of sentences
we pretend there is nothing to all these.
when we stop, when that right time comes
it will be dark, and we like children all stop playing and shouting
and running and kidding and calling each other names
when we stop it is always dark. The fear is lost. It is time to go.
Home. Where we are united with our loved ones. Where we begin to
speak the truth about us. Where we sleep. Where all the lights are
turned off.
We give way for the moon to shine above our silent roofs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Blank Page Blues
I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.
10 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Walk On By
If you see me walking down the street
And I start to cry each time we meet
Walk on by, walk on by
Make believe
that you don't see the tears
Just let me grieve
in private 'cause each time I see you
I break down and cry
And walk on by (don't stop)
And walk on by (don't stop)
And walk on by
I just can't get over losing you
And so if I seem broken and blue
Walk on by, walk on by
Foolish pride
Is all that I have left
So let me hide
The tears and the sadness you gave me
When you said goodbye
Walk on by
and walk on by
and walk by (don't stop)
Walk on by, walk on by
Foolish pride
Is all that I have left
So let me hide
The tears and the sadness you gave me
When you said goodbye
Walk on by (don't stop)
and walk on by (don't stop)
and walk by (don't stop)
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Your Soul Sink In
I have a pad and pen
where to start, where to end?
Just pick it up,
and begin.
Let your soul sink in,
Let the words freely fly,
write with passion, touch the sky.
Write with red, the color of love,
write for the angels from above.
Close your eyes, imagine things,
let your thoughts grow special wings.
You have a pad and pen
where to start, where to end?
Just pick it up,
and begin.
Let your soul sink in,
Let your soul sink in!
poem by Marius Alexandru (14 December 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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Don't Walk Away
Don't walk away
See I just can't find the right thing to say
I tried but all my pain gets in the way
Tell me what I have to do so you'll stay
Should I get down on my knees and pray
[CHORUS 1]
And how can I stop losing you
How can I begin to say
When there's nothing left to do but walk away
I close my eyes
Just to try and see you smile one more time
But it's been so long now all I do is cry
Can't we find some love to take this away
'Cause the pain gets stronger every day
[CHORUS 2]
How can I begin again
How am I to understand
When there's nothing left to du but walk away
See now why
All my dreams been broken
I don't know where we're going
Everything we said and all we done now
Don't let go
song performed by by Michael Jackson from Invincible
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just a Few Things I Don't Like About Writing Poetry
Why do some of my best ideas
Wake me out of a sound sleep
At 2: 06 somtimes 3: 28 AM
Damn green digital numbers
Then I can't find
My beside notebook until
I bump into something
That wakes my wife
By the time I've assured her
There has not been
An attempted break-in
Found the notebook where's the pen
Finally quiet as I can
Get to the bathroom
Turn on the light
Get comfortably seatd
I am sure I have
Forgotten most of the good parts
The ones that remain make little sense
Now that I am fully awake
Another thing
Why is most of the heavy lifting
Done at my end of the process
If you don't think so
You're not the one
Who carries my full wastebasket
Of drafts to our blue recycling can
It's only the paper worth saving
Not what's on them I assure you
Fridays that blue sucker
Has to be rolled to the curb
Later I hear the automated arms
Of the truck straining to lift
Some of my best first tries
As they are unceremoniously
Carted away to be recycled
For someone else's next attempts
(Note to self: Learn to write and revise
Live on the computer
'Do not save' will save trips
To the unvirtual garbage can
I'll find other ways
To get my exercise
Gathering material
To write about
As long as I can get
Enough rest before
Another great idea
Rudely wakes me up)
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Life Art
Life Art
I want to write you a poem.
One that contains no verses
no words
how long it will be
I cannot tell.
It will be a poem that you can see through
yet it will shade you from the sun
a simple lyric
as complex as a crossword
I want it to be something
that you carry through your day
every day
I don’t know if I can write that poem
Or if indeed that poem can be written at all
So instead I am with you
Of you
And slowly together
we are writing our very own poem
Not on a page
Or in a lost notebook
But in the café
and in the street
At a table
In our bed
Every day we add another line
another image
another verse
and I know that with every word that we write
I want it to be the longest poem
That has ever been written.
poem by Andy Houlihan
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How Do You Write Poetry
There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!
9 November 2011
poem by David Harris
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A New Begin
When things is going horrible and
The way you think expect to happen
Then you need to start
A new begin
Give yourself another chance
Take one step at time
I used to be person where
I'm scared for changes,
Take a crazy risk,
A shy girl and can't stand up for herself
That's not me anymore
I have grown up and matured
I'm different Christina
I don't regret things anymore
I don't think about past and want
To reach for the goal
It brand new slate to start over and
A new begin
For you and me
I think you can do it again
Don't spend your time thinking or say what if
You are wasting your time
Just stand back up
I believe you
Don't say you are falling in
Black hole and you are trap forever
By someone you can't stop loving so much
The world is not over for you
A new begin
We should try
Don't wait too long
Take your chances
A new begin
poem by Christina Phan
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End
I think i've reached that point
Where giving up and going on
Are both the same dead end to me
Are both the same old song
I think i've reached that point
Where every wish has come true
And tired disguised oblivion
Is everything i do
Please stop loving me
Please stop loving me
I am none of these things
I think i've reached that point
Where all the things you have to say
And hopes for something more from me
Are just games to pass the time away
Please stop loving me
Please stop loving me
I am none of these things
I think i've reached that point
Where every word that you write
Of every blood dark sea
And every soul black night
And every dream you dream me in
And every perfect free from sin
And burning eyes
And hearts on fire
Are just the same old song
Please stop loving me
Please stop loving me
I am none of these things
I am none of these things
I am none of these things
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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