It all has to do with art - writing, painting, things I've done for a long time but just never had enough time to pursue. I have poetry - things that are designed for songs, but they're always poems first.
quote by Jason Newsted
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is A Habit
writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry
and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Revolution Poetry Is....!
Are you writing words of rhythm according to thoughts?
Or are you coining words of thoughts according to rhythm?
Or are you writing poetry both working at the same time?
Asking so, if they ask me how to write poetry, what shall I say?
Poetry writing is natural, spontaneous expression from heart!
How can this be taught to anyone to write poetry ever at all?
Poetry is a spontaneous flow of words direct from heart ever!
I wonder many a time how am I writing poetry at all ever!
But this is happening to my great surprise since longtime!
Due to engagements ever poetry only I am able to write
Though my aim in the beginning was writing stories.....,
Novels, short stories and nonfiction articles of criticism!
Poetry books too I have completed writing so since long
But what a pity there is no reception for poetry books...!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing Poems and Chatting (Free Verse)
I am sorry
If I don't stay up
All night
Writing poems
And chatting
Now
I do spend
a lot of time
Watching t.v.
I have heard
Somewhere
That watching to much
T.v.
Is not recommended
Maybe
One day
I will go back
To writing poems
All night long
I wonder
How many
Of you readers
Watch t.v.
All night long
Or listen
To songs
On the radio
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Money in Poetry
Oh he wants me to stop
Writing poetry for nothing
He'd love to see me drop
This pen for other things.
It will not make me rich
That's what he always says
Late nights of writing which
Wastes my time and does not pay.
In poetry there is no money
But I need to be a writer
For I can say this truthfully
There's no poetry in money either.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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But when I started writing songs, I stopped painting completely, and the only art things I do are connected to the career, like album sleeves and, to some extent, posters and things like that.
quote by Bryan Ferry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I started writing songs, I stopped painting completely, and the only art things I do are connected to the career, like album sleeves and, to some extent, posters and things like that.
quote by Bryan Ferry
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Time Of Poetry Has Come
THE TIME OF POETRY HAS COME
The time of Poetry has come
I feel it within myself
Somehow waiting to be said
Worlds are hidden
And feel ready to come into being-
The time of Poetry is here
And I am writing now easily
Yet somehow within the poetry
And beyond it
Is something that needs to be said
Which my poetry now cannot say-
The Poetry the real Poetry
May be within me
And yet beyond myself
So that what I am writing now
Is not it,
But only an excuse for mentioning that
It can never really be mine.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Long Time Ago
Sitting here , all alone
Wondering what to do
Life went faster than the time
I had to achieve the things I had in mind
Their disguise , I see with my eyes
Many things I should have realized
A long time ago , long long time ago
Never changing , ever aging
It drags from day to day
I wish that I had found myself
Before it robbed me of the time
Oh no , oh no
I should have realized
A long long time ago
A long time ago
A long time ago
(break)
Seeing things , open doors
People invited me into
Oh they were so good to me
And always helped me on my way
Then I woke from this dream
Known that I should have realized
A long time ago
Long long time ago
Another day , another way
I dont care what people say
No , I realize that theres no other way for me
Suppose Ill just have to live from day to day
Oh no , oh no
I should have realized
A long long time ago
A long time ago
A long time ago
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do I Feel So Sad?
Friends we've been for so long
Now true colors are showing
Makes me wanna cry oh yes it does
Cuz I had to say goodbye
By now I should know
That in time things would change
So it shouldn't be so bad
So why do I feel so sad
How can I adjust
To the way that things are going
It's killing me slowly
Oh I just want it to be how it used to be
Cuz I wish that I could stay
But in time things must change
So it shouldn't be so bad
So why do I feel so sad
You cannot hide the way you feel inside I realize
Your actions speak much louder than words
So tell me why oh
By now I should know that
That in time things would change
So it shouldn't be it shouldn't be so bad
So why do I feel so sad
By now I should know
That in time things must change
So it shouldn't be so bad
So why do I feel so sad
By now by now I should know
That in time things must grow
And I had to leave you behind
So why do I feel so sad
If it couldn't be that bad
Tell me why
By now I should know
That in time things would change
So it shouldn't be so bad
So why do I feel so sad
[Ad-lib to end]
song performed by by Alicia Keys from Songs In A Minor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A time to bury sorrow
A time for you and a time for me,
to be whatever, we choose to be;
to set our sights, to reach the peak,
to realize goals, we truly seek.
A time to dwell. on things long past,
a time to think, on things that last;
on family, friends and things that matter,
on things that endure and do not scattter.
A time to laugh and a time to weep,
a time for treasured things to keep;
a time for reflection on how we feel,
a time to mend and a time to heal.
A time to live and a time to die,
a time for joy and a time to cry;
a time to smile and a time for tears,
a time for God to calm our fears.
A time to despose of loved ones dead,
A time to get on with the day ahead;
To blot out death and face the 'morrow,
To clear the mind and bury sorrow.
poem by David Lessard
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The History Poems Have Not Been Written
The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Can Write Poetry All Day Long
I CAN WRITE POETRY ALL DAY LONG
I can write Poetry all day long
But what will it give me?
There is just so much others will listen to
If anything?
And what is the value of writing words to myself for myself
Even if I love them
And believe they are real poetry,
And know in my soul
That their music is real?
I can write Poetry all day long
Or think I am writing poetry
When I am not-
Am I writing poetry now?
I feel I am-
Within me there is the song and the sound
There is the music of poetry
But is it real
Or only my self- deception?
Can I write poetry all day long?
Can I write poetry at all?
I am writing poetry now
Or so I tell myself-
But as I write this
The music within
Is already fading
And I hear in myself
The silence of my own lonely sound.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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More Poems To Come
More poems that do rhyme,
talking about people in the big time.
More poems that tell a story,
about happy things, not gory.
More poems to come on Christinasunrise,
where I will make you realize,
things can brighter and bigger if you fantasize.
For we live in our heads all day,
we should think of funny things to say.
That’s why my Pissed Off poems are really funny,
like “Skunkman Is Afraid Of The Easter Bunny”.
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is Me
He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.
He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.
He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.
He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.
He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.
Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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It Was A Time Of Poetry
It was a time of poetry-
A time when Beauty came easy and laughing on the page-
A time when all those things that make life happy
Seemed to be here-
A joyous time
A time when I could write and feel free
A time for poetry
A gift for now
How I must write and write
So long as I have it in me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Written Word Rules!
At the idea of poetry, some people seem to scoff,
As they consider it is an art form only for toffs.
They may think that the concept of poetry is boring,
And that it will leave them fast asleep and snoring.
There are all types of poems: modern and classical.
There’s something for everyone: it’s not boring at all.
The lyrics of songs are poems as such;
They often rhyme together very much.
People like to sing along with their favourite songs,
So why does the concept of poetry feel so wrong?
I’ve only started writing poetry in the last few weeks,
And, I have to admit that I thought it was just for geeks.
But, now I can see, that whoever you are,
Everyone has the potential to go really far.
I have to admit, I much prefer
The written, to the spoken word.
At night, I lay awake tossing and turning in bed,
With random thoughts running through my head.
By my pillow, I keep a pen and note pad,
To jot down any thoughts, which I’ve had.
At the top of the page, my thoughts I jot,
And I always plan out a really rough plot.
I like to include words which have a nice ring.
Words, like these, into my poetry, I like to bring.
I continually go through the alphabet time after time,
Searching for useful words which, pretty much, rhyme.
In simple terms, my ideas, I always like to express;
Complicated and fancy words, my mind doesn’t posses.
I’m sat here, writing this poem, on a speeding train,
As thought after thought, floods into my brain.
I’m writing notes on a mini pocket timetable,
In any tiny blank space which is available.
In my handbag, I’ve got no pad, but I’ve got a pen;
My scribbled notes, I just hope I can comprehend.
I really must start carrying a notepad everywhere;
To forget all these thoughts I’ve had, I couldn’t bear.
When I’m thinking of ideas, I just can’t relax;
My mind seems to buzz to the absolute max.
I’m not far now from my final destination,
And the train is due to pull into the station.
On this subject, there’s not much more to be said,
So, I’m now putting this poem well and truly to bed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Personal Journey
If someone had told me years ago,
poetry would make my name.
I would have politely smiled
and nodded yes,
and not believed a word of it.
I remember once
attending a poetry reading
and calmly getting up
and declaring I was not a poet,
and then wondered why everyone laughed.
They must have realised something
I did not know
that in fact, I was a poet,
of course, that was a long time ago,
and much waters
have crossed under the bridge of my life.
The doodles I once called poems
were in fact poems after all.
Some were much better
than I could ever dream of.
It took me a long time
and the internet to realise that fact.
Now I have started a new dawn
within my writing career,
taken steps down roads
I never thought I would go.
The journey has not been unmarked,
as I have gained so much more
than just becoming recognised as a writer.
I have gained so many friends across the world.
Something I could have only dreamed about
in my younger years.
17 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Poetry Obsession
I have been writing poetry for just over a year;
That I love poetry, I guess, it's perfectly clear.
My output, to date, has been really quite prolific.
I feel pleased with my work, but it's not terrific.
Now is the time for me to make a confession:
For me, poetry has become a bit of an obsession!
Now I find that, sometimes when I speak,
My sentences unintentionally rhyme! Eeek!
My poems total over three hundred in number;
Sometimes, composing them affects my slumber.
Of my poetry, I admit I feel really rather proud,
But I feel way too shy to read them out aloud.
Often, when I'm out walking, or I'm sat on a train,
Ideas will manifest themselves deep in my brain.
I often find myself spending quite some time,
Pondering the two factors of rhythm and rhyme.
My poems all rhyme: I don't write in ‘free verse':
In unrhymed poetry, myself, I just can't immerse.
To me, poetry which rhymes seems more precise:
It has a better finish, and it just sounds, well, nice!
At my poems online, people have been gazing,
But I would disagree that my work is ‘amazing'.
From all over the world, I am quite often sent
From fellow poets, some encouraging comments.
I have chosen some of my poems to put in a book;
My local bookshop is selling it! Please take a look!
I was thrilled when they agreed to sell it in-store;
They sold the entire first batch, and asked for more!
My dream job is to become a really famous writer;
I know it's a tough journey, but I'm a real fighter.
For sitting, writing poetry, I would love to get paid:
Maybe, if I keep plodding onwards, I will one day!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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