A poem records emotions and moods that lie beyond normal language, that can only be patched together and hinted at metaphorically.
quote by Diane Ackerman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem's Language
a poem has it's own language
if a poet uses the glamour of the language
in his poem...the language
would stand out
if a poet shows his versatality over the language
in his poem...the poet
would stand out
the poet and the language should
lose themselves in the poem...for
the poem to speak it's own language
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem For All
I am
Looking around, all the time
Just as before, for a poem
A balanced poem, without sides
A poem without inclination, non-biased
A poem without pigmentation, colourless
A poem without religion, faithless
A poem without a nation, stateless
A poem devoid of immigration officers, borderless
A poem without language, speechless, silent
I am
Looking around all the time
Just as before, for that poem
Everyone’s poem, everyone’s song!
poem by Isaac Maliya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mood Colours
At times, we describe our moods in colours
that pass by our eyes each day.
There are our blue moods,
those when we are down.
Then there are our red moods
whenever our temper flares.
Our black moods are colourless
and the most dangerous of them all.
Our sunshine moods are when the world is golden
and smiles are all we see.
Pink shades our loving moods
and to the world, we show we care
as our love shines through.
Our moods can change quickly
as we pass through the rainbow spectrum
within our daily lives.
15 January 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is The Mood Of A Poem For This Night
THERE IS THE MOOD OF A POEM FOR THIS NIGHT
There is the mood of a poem for this night
There is the mood of a love from long ago
That is forever lost-
There is a mood of a too rainy and too cold night
There is a mood of more inside than saying can mean-
There is a mood of many things-
And all these moods are not one mood
And yet in me now largely indescribable-
For there is a mood which takes the person away
Into a land of dreams and beyond
And another mood and another poem
Which simply stays where it is
In longing for itself-
So while I have many moods
And may write many poems of those moods
I know that there is no mood tonight
Which is the one and only one love
I would always have-
And no mood which can say again
All that a person may have when young
And never know again in old age-
There is a mood of being forever sad and forever regretful-
But considering how much Beauty life has
And how many different ways there are of finding it
I will listen to the music of the light tonight
And hear the poetry of many great souls
And in a mood of joy
Quietly go to rest
As if happiness really were the mood beyond and within everything.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark The Moods
Dark the moods.
Dark too those attitudes.
The ones that 'use' to visit and annoy,
When I felt quite defeated.
Dark the moods.
Dark too those attitudes.
I could not rid or alone leave.
On me they fed as if a feast to feed.
I had to freeze all emotions,
Shown and worn on my sleeve.
They were too easily revealed.
Too easily perceived.
I had to pick myself up,
Off my knees.
There was a comfort in it,
With a welcome of a hopelessness that pleased.
Dark the moods.
Dark too those attitudes.
I could not rid or alone leave.
On me they fed as if a feast to feed.
Dark the moods.
Dark too those attitudes.
The ones that 'use' to visit and annoy,
When I felt quite defeated.
I had to freeze all emotions worn on my sleeve.
Dark the moods.
Dark too those attitudes.
I had to pick myself up off my knees.
Dark the moods.
Dark too those attitudes.
They 'use' to visit me when I...
They 'use' to visit me when I...
They 'use' to visit me when I felt,
Quite DEFEATED!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by David Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by Aisha Patterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is Not The Answer To Everything
A POEM IS NOT THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING
A poem is not the answer to everything-
Perhaps it is not the answer to anything
Though I wouldn't take it that far-
There have been times
When a poem was the answer-
Many times
A poem written by someone else
A poem I tried to write by myself-
Poems can be an answer
Perhaps not for most things
Perhaps not for all the major things
But for moods and pains and feeling
And desire for Beauty
Poems can be answers at time-
A poem is not really the answer to my problem of the moment now
But it is an answer of a kind anyway
Thank God for poems and for this poem also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(Inspiration Poem) An Inspiration From Something So Great
Colors of emotion fill the air with this poem.
Count the ways I could say how great a poem it is.
With both the heart and the soul.
Expressions are described both literal and metaphorically.
It is as if I can see this person you speak of right now.
In the flesh, an image appears as if your painting a portrait.
So perfect and eloquent.
Down to the very last detail.
And then their is even more.
My final words would be how extravagant but without the negative effects that spending too much effort, time or money would bring.
It is the biggest rose I most certainly ever seen.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smile Please
Why do I have to smile?
This is how I am
And there is no denial.
When I share a moment of mine
Please find me the way I am
It’s not about how you like to see me
But with my moods aligned.
Emotions have strong colors
Which you see on my face
Why to use a brush on it,
If that doesn’t leave my trace.
This body is just not me
Find my emotions too
To get me in my photo
Without one is untrue.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hello Silver Friend
A knife is a nonjudgmental friend.
A friend that I could always turn to in need.
Its welcoming shine, its sharp edge teases me, begs me
It whines begging on its handle 'Use me! Use me! I can take all your pain away! '
'I don't judge you; you can be yourself around me always.'
I want to succumb and allow my over welling emotions to pour out of me
I want to rid myself of this intense gilt, sadness, anger, worthlessness
Watch with childlike glee as my pain drips down my skin
What is skin really?
An immense vessel holding all our emotions and organs.
Sometimes the vessel needs to be punctured to release negative moods
Negative moods that push up against the vessel straining to escape
Hello silver friend it's nice to see you again.
yours truly,
A worthless not mention failure of a daughter
poem by Francesca Marie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Repetitive Of A Nostalgia, A Moment Ago
there is no poem that can stop
this mess
this furniture of the room are not in place
the table is under the rain
outside
the chairs are crumpled like paper
in the drain
the books are opening their pages to the skies
the pens are shooting like
arrows in the air
no one can stop the dead
not this poem that only counts
those who want to be buried
no one can stop the grief
not this poem, not that poem
no poem can stop the flood of all emotions
no poem can resist
the burden of carrying all these
like a carriage like a coffin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is No Poem
there is no poem that can stop
this mess
this furniture of the room are not in place
the table is under the rain
outside
the chairs are crumpled like paper
in the drain
the books are opening their pages to the skies
the pens are shooting like
arrows in the air
no one can stop the dead
not this poem that only counts
those who want to be buried
no one can stop the grief
not this poem, not that poem
no poem can stop the flood of all emotions
no poem can resist
the burden of carrying all these
like a carriage like a coffin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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4g
Metaphorically, when it comes to seeing colors, the vast majority of people are 3G, dyslexics are 4G. They can and do see a greater distinctions of colors and possible more colors, once again metaphorically. When it comes to concepts dyslexics are 4G. However when it comes to decoding and encoding, reading and writing, they are colorblind,3G. What are wonderful yet frustrating at times paradox?
poem by Michael Kavuoti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Language from Womb to Tomb
It is heard from mother's womb,
taught and learned through the days
and years; repeated, remembered,
quoted, mimicked, twisted,
spoken to bless and to curse.
It is to make one
come across the border lines
It is to feel a part of the whole
It is to understand and be understood.
It is seed that grows through the years
It is a pen that records the scars and stars
It is present in the years of our life
the years lost and gone
and the years to come.
It is language
from mother's womb
to our own tomb
It is language of jubilation,
of judgment and adoration
It is law and order
It is history-
document and monument.
It is victory and defeat.
It is the language of love
It is the language of hate.
It is the language of life
and the language of death.
_____________
May 7,2010
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This is a poem....
This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.
poem by Tammie LilAimo
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When I was a bit older I had all of the George Carlin records, all of the Steve Martin records, all of the Cheech and Chong records and all of the Richard Pryor records.
quote by Marc Maron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Mary Ruefle, poet
and since you're an
American Poet or
a poet writing in English
or however you might put this
in a cv which you'll surely
never need being unique
and therefore beyond all
job descriptions except poet
since you're, well, those things or
that thing
you may never have seen
a kangaroo (and in a zoo
they can't hop..)
but if you do you'll recognise it
when I say it - your mind
is metaphorically, and no-one
handles metaphors like you do may I say,
like a kangaroo - huge hops
off into the horizon of thought
with what in marsupial body-language
may be bounding, boundless
joy
a kangaroo which might in the world
of your poems which I can't hope
to imitate but I'll have a go,
be carrying a baby roo in its pouch with
its head sticking out
and a backward glance towards you
who one day will return grown-up
with a crumpled poem
in its own pouch
addressed to Mary Ruefle
mentioning in passing
immortality
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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