Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.
quote by Zelda Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody has ever measured even poets, how much a heart can hold.
quote by Zelda
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Poets
rain come touch my heart
wake me up inside
seems if i had sleep
100 years without knowing
wash my tears away
dark poets
give me your strenght
and open my eyes
open my heart
to let the rain in
dark poets
dont let me close my heart
dont stop the rain
oh dark poets
let the rain come in
forever falling deep insede
daek poets
let the rain into my heart
poem by Guadalupe martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Measure Of Men
what is the measure of one man
is it the measure of one's strength
I think not
is it the measure of one's stature such as height
I don't think so
is it how wealthy one is
not even close
or is it how much power one possesses over another
not impressive
can a measure of a man be measured with a yardstick
well it can but that park doesn't show he's a man
the tolerance of a man for another man hitting him
can be measured with a ruler
the tolerance of a man for another man attacking his country
can be measured with a grain of salt
the tolerance of a man for another man hitting the one's he loves
now that can only be measured within a whisper
you can only measure a individual man or woman
with how big their heart is and
what qualities lie within that heart
such as dignity for what he works for
such as a stable household for his famly
compassion for people in need
the understanding of what's right and what's wrong
the pride of not what he has done but what
his wife and child has done
the sweat
the blood
and the tears he spars
to keep his marriage from falling apart
once you find a way to measure those things then
and only then will you be able to say
that is
because that is certainly
the real measure of all men
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Might Be Your Love
Written by dewey bunnell, 1980
Found on alibi.
Sometimes when youre there all alone
Someone will call you at home
You dont want to but pick up the phone
Might be your love
Might be your heart
Someone to hold you
All alone in the dark
Someone who you thought would belong
Came passing, moved right along
You dont know why but something went wrong
Might be your love
Might be your heart
Someone to hold you
All alone in the dark
Someone to hold you, someone to hold
Someone to hold you, someone to hold
Some girl who you watched at her desk
Came dancing on with her dress
And she looked up and wouldnt you guess
She might be your love
Might be your heart
Someone to hold you
All alone in the dark
Might be your love (might be your love)
Might be your heart (might be your heart)
Someone to hold you
All alone in the dark
(someone to hold you)
Might be your love (someone to hold)
Might be your heart (someone to hold you)
Might be your love (someone to hold)
Might be your love (might be your love)
Might be your heart (might be your heart)
Someone to hold you
All alone in the dark
Might be your love (might be your love)
Might be your heart (might be your heart)
Someone to hold you
All alone in the dark
Might be your love (might be your love)
Might be your heart (might be your heart)
Someone to hold you
All alone in the dark ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Society of Poets
bring all the cymbals and the tambourine, and we
will make a holiday; with the paint all can color the
day of today that last for a lifetime, a happy endless
ending of what the future brings
come little soldiers of the time, forward the pen
and the load your body with the mind that savory the
essence of the every events, always see and dance
with the rhyme and sing every lyric the moment that
you put your ink in the pen
countless footprints can be print in the brush you
hold any time the color surpass, make it beautiful and
furnished it with emotion, a feeling that nobody had
ever made, only thy faithful heart can read the
meaning of the day
let the east and the west poets rejoice for in every
joy and happiness, the world remember our call, the
heart that is posted in the soul, revive the spirit of we
always call, may peace reborn in every move, and as
the day will never end; the hour will be the same again
what a lucky day, where all poets of the world would
always stay in the pen their heart makes all the way,
ink the paper and paint your design in the frame you
hold, live and share the legacy the beauty of yesterday
society of poets......... the heart of the past and the soul
of today
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Knew What Poets Know
If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.
quote by T.S. Eliot (1920)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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We As Poets
We as poets must command a sacred accent over a language of our choice,
We as poets must gift the minds of a failing generation,
We as poets must demand a clear explanation and a fair occupation,
We as poets must dissolve into particles and dust if we have not known enough,
We as poets must destroy the living standards of low quality,
We are to be the poetry of utmost perception and suffering.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ain't That A Lot Of Love (feat. Simply Red)
Words and music by Willa Dean Parker and Homer Banks
I know the desert cant hold all the love
that I feel in my heart for you, yeah
If I could spread it out across the sea
I know my love would cork it up
Aint that a lot of love
For one heart to hold
If the bees only knew how sweet you are, Baby
They would seal up their honey comb
If the birds could hear how sweet your voice is
They would tighten up the song
Aint that a lot of love
For one heart to hold
Your lips are so sweet
Honey, youre my every need
You got a smile so rare
A love like yours I just cant compare
Aint that a lot of love
For one heart to hold
If the cook in the kitchen had a touch as hot as yours
They wouldnt need a fire
I cant think of a word that describes your love better
Than the sky above
Aint that a lot of love
For one heart to hold
Yeah
Aint that a lot of love
Aint that a lot of love
For one heart to hold
One heart to hold
One heart to hold
One heart to hold
Aint that a lot of love
Aint that a lot of love
One heart to hold
One heart to hold
Aint that a lot of love
Aint that a lot of love
For one heart to hold
Oh thats a lot of love
Lot of love
Sounds like a lot of love
Sounds like a lot of love
For one heart to hold
For one heart to hold
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To live in others
Bravery is measured in one’s adversity
And not in one’s victory; as such he’s brave.
Toughness is measured in one’s tolerance
And not in one’s conquest; as such he’s tough.
Kindness is measured in one’s empathy
And not in one’s sympathy; as such he’s kind.
He makes people more honest than they are,
More sincere than they used to be
And more committed than they are.
He illuminates around but not himself.
Be as he to lead the people given.
26.04.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Verbal Tapestry
Such tapestries of magic wrought
by masters of their chosen art;
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
Within this place wizardry's taught
and each magician plays a part
in tapestries of magic wrought.
A diverse and bewitching lot,
some sassy, saucy, suave and smart;
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
Across the zones of time and thought
they serve poetic a-la-carte.
with tapestries of magic wrought.
With grace a moment can be caught
by artists of the quill and heart,
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
And with fresh, enchanting thought
this simple wizard makes a start
at tapestries of magic wrought.
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
poem by John Roche
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hold On My Heart
Hold on my heart
Just hold on to that feeling
We both know weve been here before
We both know what can happen
Hold on my heart
Cos Im looking over your shoulder
Ooh please dont rush in this time
Dont show her how you feel
Hold on my heart
Throw me a lifeline
Ill keep a place for you
Somewhere deep inside
So hold on my heart
Please tell her to be patient
Cos there has never been a time
That I wanted something more
If I can recall this feeling
And I know theres a chance
Oh I will be there
Yes I will be there
Be there for you
Whenever you want me to
Whenever you call oh I will be there
Yes I will be there
Hold on my heart
Dont let her see you crying
No matter where I go
Shell always be with me
So hold on my heart
Just hold on to that feeling
We both know weve been here before
We both know what can happen
So hold on my heart...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A poor pen
Pen is
Not great...
On the paper...
poet write at
Moon+ sky...
Stars...
Earth and sea...
All are in poets
Hand only
At poets hand...
Poets is think...
Poets dream...
Thats all
pen is very poor
Noock out...
undrestad to try...
Try too under stand....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Twelfth Of Never
(1957) Paul Francis Webster, Jerry Livingston
You ask me how much I need you
Must I explain
I need you oh my darling
Like roses need rain
You ask how long I'll love you
I'll tell you true
Until the Twelfth of Never
I'll still be loving you
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like April snow
I'll love you 'til the bluebells
Forget to bloom
I'll love you 'til the clover
Has lost its perfume
And I'll love you 'til the poets
Run out of rhyme
Until the Twelfth of Never
And that's a long, long time
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like April snow
I'll love you 'til the bluebells
Forget to bloom
I'll love you 'til the clover
Has lost its perfume
And I'll love you 'til the poets
Run out of rhyme
Until the Twelfth of Never
And that's a long, long time
Until the Twelfth of Never
And that's a long, long time
A long, long time
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twelfth Of Never
(1957) paul francis webster, jerry livingston
You ask me how much I need you
Must I explain
I need you oh my darling
Like roses need rain
You ask how long Ill love you
Ill tell you true
Until the twelfth of never
Ill still be loving you
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like april snow
Ill love you til the bluebells
Forget to bloom
Ill love you til the clover
Has lost its perfume
And Ill love you til the poets
Run out of rhyme
Until the twelfth of never
And thats a long, long time
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like april snow
Ill love you til the bluebells
Forget to bloom
Ill love you til the clover
Has lost its perfume
And Ill love you til the poets
Run out of rhyme
Until the twelfth of never
And thats a long, long time
Until the twelfth of never
And thats a long, long time
A long, long time
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Twelfth Of Never
(paul francis webster/jerry livingston)
You ask me how much I need you
Must I explain
I need you oh my darling
Like roses need rain
You ask how long Ill love you
Ill tell you true
Until the twelfth of never
Ill still be loving you
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like april snow
Ill love you til the bluebells
Forget to bloom
Ill love you til the clover
Has lost its perfume
And Ill love you til the poets
Run out of rhyme
Until the twelfth of never
And thats a long, long time
Hold me close
Never let me go
Hold me close
Melt my heart like april snow
Ill love you til the bluebells
Forget to bloom
Ill love you til the clover
Has lost its perfume
And Ill love you til the poets
Run out of rhyme
Until the twelfth of never
And thats a long, long time
Until the twelfth of never
And thats a long, long time
A long, long time
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For All The Poets
FOR ALL THE POETS
This is a poem for all the poets who have no name,
For all those who have written and failed,
And for those who have not written,
And failed.
This is a poem for all the poets who dreamed themselves poets,
And were never, and will be known as poets
To the world.
This a poem for all those
Who after years of effort
Still live in an oblivion
They will die in.
This is a poem for all those
Who whether they have poetry in them or not,
Will never be heard or read,
For what their hearts must tell
Someone else.
This is a poem for all the silent poets
Those who live in silence
And whose silence is eternal
For all those whose only poetry
is the poem they have lived within themselves.
This is a poem for all those who would- be poets
And a poem for those
Who despite their efforts
Did not make their poem known.
This is a poem which may be for you,
And I know is for me
A confession
To make us less alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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