Robert Frost had always said you mustn't think of the last line first, or it's only a fake poem, not a real one. I'm inclined to agree.
quote by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode To A Robert Frost Poem
I thought I took the road less taken.
But I guess I was mistaken.
When the two paths diverged in the woods; I pondered at which path I must take.
I took the path to my left in the woods; Was it the right path to take?
It was not, but I digress.
Why must I deal will all this stress?
As I sit and try to recall all of the words from the poem Frost once wrote, I must emote.
This ode to that grand old poem that Frost once wrote.
The name of that Robert Frost poem is 'The Rode Not Taken'.
As I write this ode to a Robert Frost's poem, the words he wrote be not mistaken.
I thought I took the path less taken.
I will now end this ode to go eat some bacon.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is A Poem
As I sat in my room,
On my little desk chair,
I began to feel
A hint of despair.
I had for my homework,
A poem to create,
And if it wasen't done then,
It would have been late.
My school, my dog,
A tree or my home,
Which of these subjects,
Should I choose for my poem?
You can see for yourself,
That my problem was bad,
No poem could I think of,
My; this was sad.
As I sat there and gazed,
A thought came to mind:
A poem is a poem,
Just as long as it rhymes.
So I wrote down some words,
And tossed them around,
Until they rhymed nicely,
And had a smooth sound.
My poem was all finished,
My homework all done,
It wasen't bad after all,
It even was fun!
Longfellow, Whitman,
Robert Frost too,
I've discovered there secret
That all of them knew.
A poem is no problem,
It takes not much time,
You write down your thoughts,
In a way that will rhyme.
poem by Sarah Stopka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~Smile~
We all smile to show our happiness,
We use it a lot, Yes,
Smile can be fake or real,
Its used to show or hide how we feel,
Fake smile is shown when,
Pain in heart rises,
And real smile is shown when,
Unexpected happiness doubles in sizes,
Natural or Not,
But its better to show a real one on the spot,
Let us be honest,
the only time we show the real smile is when someone has touched our heart,
and when we show the fake smile,
is when someone has tear everything apart,
Yes we show our fake smile,
to show people that we are okay so they wont revile,
Its hard to put on a real one as your hurt,
And yes we try to heal it as we flirt,
Its time to face the fact,
Showing a fake smile is like showing a fake and stupid act,
Put every pain to the side and smile for now,
not for someone,
But for everyone,
and show it as we are endowed.
poem by Marop Aron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem Analysis
Robert Villanueva
Period EB Gysin
3/9/09
Poem Analysis: “Why Must U Be Unfaithful”
Tupac Shakur always experimented with poetry even when it had nothing to do with music. Many of his poems dealt with women, women’s rights and what they go through. For example, the poem “Why Must U Be Unfaithful.”
This poem’s title is in general, although under it, it says “4 Women.” This certainly pertains to women. But the speaker, Tupac, is speaking towards men. The first line has one word, (1) “Men! ” He talks about how men and their hearts are both selfish and it has no brain. That means it can’t think for itself. He says (7) “..mortal men fall in love.. (8) ..as fast as their face changes.” Meaning they go from girl to girl breaking hearts. He mentions (11) “empty vows and.. (12) ..broken promises.” Towards the end of the poem he explains how (14) “women aren’t perfect but why should a man not be loyal to a woman’s heart is true.” Everyone makes mistakes, but in the end they’re still there for them.
Tupac’s poem seems to be straightforward although in its nooks and crannies, there should be some deep thinking behind the real meaning of the poem. He doesn’t hold anything back and exposes the truth to readers. Whether there’s music or not and if the topic is women or life. Tupac will get things off his chest and still be artistic and intelligent about it.
poem by Robert Villanueva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cushions
When my leaders
Sit in the assembly halls,
For legislation,
With fake brains, fake thoughts,
Fake eyes, fake looks,
Fake existence, fake appearance,
Fake education, fake degrees,
They seem to me
Fake, fake beings,
As if
Some one has placed cushions,
On the sofas and chairs;
Cushions stuffed
With rags of worn out jeans
Or old pieces of sacks
Made of jute.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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One will never again look at a birch tree, after the Robert Frost poem, in exactly the same way.
quote by Paul Muldoon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Love For One Another Done
Where do we masquerade now?
That dedicated faith we fake.
The one we parade,
When charades made take place.
And...
Where do we masquerade now?
That dedicated faith we fake.
The one we parade,
When charades made take place.
That love for one another done,
Real or fake.
The respect for our fathers,
Is it real or fake.
The honor for our mothers done,
Real or fake.
And that love for one another done...
Is it real or just for fun?
Concern for our sisters,
Is that real or fake.
And what about our brothers,
Do they hug and fake.
As they backstab each other,
Calling one another 'mothers'.
That feeling,
Is it real or fake.
That feeling,
Is it love or hate.
That feeling,
We all celebrate.
And what about the brothers,
Backstabbing one another.
That feeling,
Is it real or fake.
That feeling,
Is it love or hate.
That feeling,
We all celebrate.
And what about the brothers,
Calling one another 'mothers'.
And that love for one another done...
Is it real or just for fun?
That feeling,
Is it real or fake.
That feeling,
Is it love or hate.
That feeling,
We all celebrate.
And what about the brothers,
Backstabbing one another.
And what about the brothers,
Calling one another 'mothers'.
And that love for one another done...
Is it real or just for fun?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night
I STRIVE AGAINST THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT
I strive against the silence of the night
Against my own inner emptiness
I wait to hear some song from inside myself -
Nothing is written.
I go back to where I am
And begin again.
There is always a poem if one is patient enough.
But what poem?
And for what special meaning of this night?
I write again and again
A poem which is about writing a poem
And when I come to end it
I question again and again
Whether it is real.
This night is already deep in darkness
And yet I have almost broken its silence
One more line
One more writing about writing a poem -
Perhaps Memory will come back to me
And I will write a more real poem
Than this strained effort now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted My Poem To Be A Real Poem
I WANTED MY POEM TO BE A REAL POEM
I wanted my poem to be a real poem-
I have read and studied and memorized
So many real poems-
I wanted my poem to be one of them
Which others would read and feel and memorize
And make their own –
We want and we want and we want
And who are we with all our wanting?
Who am I with all my wanting?
One more dreamer
One more ambitious person
One more lover of poems
One more writer of poems
One more wanter of real poems
Who writes this poem
For others
who dream like me
of writing real poems.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fake Out In Buenos Aires
Fake out
Fake in
Fake it to me
What is fake?
Fake t.v.
Land of a thousand fake outs
Fake worse than death
In buenos aires
In buenos aires
Fake out
Fake in
Fakers delight
Fake your claim
Fake around the clock
Winner fake all
Three fakes, youre out
In buenos aires
In buenos aires
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The middle of the road is where the white line is - and that's the worst place to drive.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Poem-Where Are You?
OH POEM-WHERE ARE YOU?
Oh poem- Where are you?
Come, release me from the burden of this day
The guilt of not doing anything
Help me pretend
That by writing you
I am truly doing something.
O poem here you are
This is you
Yet another self- justification
In a world which has so many more real pains.
Oh poem
Be kind a bit
Help someone
Anyone
Even just one reader
Feel that this dawn now
Can be the start
Of a real day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Poem -Where Are You?
OH POEM-WHERE ARE YOU?
Oh poem- Where are you?
Come, release me from the burden of this day
The guilt of not doing anything
Help me pretend
That by writing you
I am truly doing something.
O poem here you are
This is you
Yet another self- justification
In a world which has so many more real pains.
Oh poem
Be kind a bit
Help someone
Anyone
Even just one reader
Feel that this dawn now
Can be the start
Of a real day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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