I seem to keep returning to my father in poems because his personality was so extreme, so driven. He did everything to excess.
quote by Robert Morgan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always The Poems In Me
Always the poems in me-
Saying themselves over and over
Returning to lines learned long ago
Or lines learned with more difficulty in old age-
Always the poems in me-
While my own poems written
And forgotten
As if only
Poems of a single occasion
The time of their writing-
Always the poems in me-
The poems which others will have in them after me
Poems not my own.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Great Mission
The jungle near manaus
The amazonas full of piranhas
The birds of paradise
Disappear into the green desert
For years and years
We are hungry and desperate
For the only thing worth living
The excess
We end our great mission
Exhausted and sad
And there is no hope left
When suddenly
In a cloud of golden smog
The father of excess
Jumps out of the water of
The amazonas full of piranhas
And screams to the lost souls
What are you doing at the amazonas
Leave manaus full of piranhas [burp!]
You will not find excess in the jungle
And then
He opened the green curtain
Made of fleshy leaves and said
I show you the excess of the
Asphalt a montmartre
The excess of the belly-dance
In abu dhabi
And the excess of the everlasting night in manhattan [burp!]
Are you ready for the sensation del tango a rosario?
Leave him, the gorilla
Leave the jungle of the amazonas
Leave manaus full of piranhas
And follow father excess...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great Mission
The jungle near manaus
The amazonas full of piranhas
The birds of paradise
Disappear into the green desert
For years and years
We are hungry and desperate
For the only thing worth living
The excess
We end our great mission
Exhausted and sad
And there is no hope left
When suddenly
In a cloud of golden smog
The father of excess
Jumps out of the water of
The amazonas full of piranhas
And screams to the lost souls
What are you doing at the amazonas
Leave manaus full of piranhas [burp!]
You will not find excess in the jungle
And then
He opened the green curtain
Made of fleshy leaves and said
I show you the excess of the
Asphalt a montmartre
The excess of the belly-dance
In abu dhabi
And the excess of the everlasting night in manhattan [burp!]
Are you ready for the sensation del tango a rosario?
Leave him, the gorilla
Leave the jungle of the amazonas
Leave manaus full of piranhas
And follow father excess...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem about Poetry - Best and Worst Poems
if i ever be famous
with my poems
well, i would come
out with collections
of my best poems for
hordes of ardent readers
if i ever be famous
with my poems
i would also surprise
readers with collections
of my worst poems
and i am sure
they would sell too
everybody loves to see
the unsavoury side of
a famous personality
it is news in fact
we all have to start
from somewhere
good, bad or ugly
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Extremes, though contrary, have the like effects. Extreme heat kills, and so extreme cold: extreme love breeds satiety, and so extreme hatred; and too violent rigor tempts chastity, as does too much license.
quote by George Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time relieves
Indebtedness, economic downfall,
Dent in social status, conflict in family,
Fear of punishment, shame and guilt
Might have driven you to the extreme end.
Think that it is the time that has driven you
And that those factors are the tools of time.
The time is not constant; so is the status.
26.09.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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The mania started with insomnia and not eating and being driven, driven to find an apartment, driven to see everybody, driven to do New York, driven to never shut up.
quote by Patty Duke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mothers Love
he relationship of a son towards both his parents is very complex. A son will likely feel a close bond with his mother, yet see his father as an adversary and competitor. When a son sees how his father interacts with his mother he will either attempt to model his father's behavior or reject his father's example of relationships with woman. From the parents' point of view, having a son can be one of the greatest joys they will ever experience but also one of the greatest challenges. Balancing the need to offer freedom to your son while placing appropriate boundaries may be an area of contention.
Source: Son Poems - Poems about Sons
Driven Crazy or Crazy Driven
Are you driven crazy or crazy driven?
Are you driven by what people say OR are you crazy driven by an awesome day.
Are you driven crazy after a big fight OR crazy driven by a long night
If your driven crazy don't let anything get under your skin.
And if your crazy driven. It's your time to sin...
poem by Shauntae Taylor
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Driven
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Driven up and down in circles
Skidding down a road of black ice
Staring in and out storm windows
Driven to a fools paradise
But its my turn to drive
Driven to the margin of error
Driven to the edge of control
Driven to the margin of terror
Driven to the edge of a deep, dark hole
Driven day and night in circles
Spinning like a whirlwind of leaves
Stealing in and out back alleys
Driven to another den of thieves
But its my turn to drive
Driven in --- driven to the edge
Driven out --- on the thin end of the wedge
Driven off --- by things Ive never seen
Driven on --- by the road to somewhere Ive never been
Its my turn to drive
The road unwinds towards me
What was there is gone
The road unwinds before me
And I go riding on
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh The Poems And More Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE MORE POEMS
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems I am writing all the time
God has given me this gift
And when I wait in the right way
And when I listen to myself properly
The poems come in ways I could never have thought of or imagined before
They come as mysteries as gifts as surprises
As wonderful to me as perhaps to you their possible readers
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems God has given me
And the light of this day and so many other days, also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Faithful Poet To His Craft....
he is getting bald over
words
emaciated having forgotten
several meals
because he is faithful to
his craft
everyday he writes
more poems than he could
muster
for his heavenly muses
on paper the poems become
written
well sculpted with curves
and smooth finishes
he does not know whether
they are read somewhere
but he does not care
on nights when he finds himself
alone and abandoned
by fate
he makes a fire
at the center of his yard
puts all those paper poems
there
all burned
smokes like some forms of
ghosts
go to the night skies
to be with the countless stars
in the extreme cold
of silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hands Of Self Will
Why did the killer kill?
Driven to it. Like you are.
Driven to eat chocolate.
Opportunity offers. Sentient hands.
Fetishes cravings. Easily fulfilled.
Can’t help. Can’t help yourself.
Driven driven driven to it.
Like obese victim of self-driven
compulsive consumption.
Driven to it. To do it. Do it. Do it.
Like jaded junkie craving
each driven deadly dream
razored raw needle shot veins.
Seasoned alcoholic sucking last
pitiful drops desperately
fetish fevered tongue
dating neck dead empty bottle.
Clothed clotting vomit sweet
slow sickening soul
sucking addiction induced desires.
Driven to it. Demonic possession driven.
Like leeches carefully campaign causes
to save worthy world. Social crusaders
driven reflective reform in own image.
Driven Driven Driven By Hands
With A Will Of Their Own.
God alone can judge each betrayal
weigh each deed on cosmic scale.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly
NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.
Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Afraid To Crack
soon there is no use of your fear
in due time
you crack
extreme heat
extreme cold
like a seed
your mind cracks
but do not lose hope
my dear
we all crack
on extreme pain
on extreme joys
we give room
for the seed
to grow
just wait
just wait
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I was a personality before I became a person - I am simple, complex, generous, selfish, unattractive, beautiful, lazy and driven.
quote by Barbra Streisand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Of Night
Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poems About Poems About Poems
Poems about poems about poems-
More poems and more poems and more poems-
Poems poems poems poems poems-
How many poems?
How much poetry
Until there is no poetry at all?
But only 'words' and 'words' and 'words'
Until one goes far away
Where there was never a poem before-
And suddenly hears
“Let there be Light”.
And Poetry perhaps
Is born again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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