Poetry is the art which is technically within the grasp of everyone: a piece of paper and a pencil and one is ready.
quote by Eugenio Montale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Technically
Technically you and me....
can't be
Technically its wrong, and technically i shouldn't sing you my song
but i want to compose my lyric fraught with love
technically you won't hear it
but maybe i can just happen
to sing, happen to love, but.... when
and how? can i make you understand
Technically, my love, something you normally don't see like a grain of sand
technically, there is no 'we'
Technically i can just happen to hold
and to caress, just happen to be next to you,
Technically I can't love you but can we happen to?
happen to be together, technically only happen.
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Piece Of Paper
A diploma hanging on the wall
is really not you at all.
It's just a piece of paper.
A marriage certificate in your file
of when you two walked down the aisle
is just a piece of paper.
A birth certificate, signed and sealed
made you legal but concealed
that it's just a piece of paper.
A death certificate proves you're gone.
The truth is you've just moved on.
It was just a piece of paper.
All these papers that yellow with time
were really not worth one thin dime.
They were just pieces of paper.
Your life was never all those things.
Your life was when you took on wings
and soared with love for all.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Until film is just as easily accessible as a pen or pencil, then it's not completely an art form. In painting you can just pick up a piece of chalk, a stick or whatever. In sculpture you can get a rock. Writing you just need a pencil and paper. Film has been a very elitist medium. It costs so much money. It doesn't allow everyone who wants to tell stories tell stories. The great storytellers however are going to rise to the top, no matter what.
quote by Forest Whitaker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Disconnect
and if the server crashed
would I still be a poet?
and if the Internet crashed suddenly
in the whole wide world,
who’s going to ever hear of me?
I would like a law
to forbid poetry in public,
to have to go in specially designed places
with a pencil and a piece of paper
to write only for myself
as if my poem were
an engagement ring
a vow for love.
I’ve been hurting my soul
on a piece of paper
in a puddle of words
you call it clichee
a hole
or a whole lot of nothing
while poetry is
a crosswalk
between life and death
or a wild boar chased by bullets
in a pristine forest
My writing is not
a simple pastime
but a dedication for God
Who sometimes puts his palm
on your forehead
Woman
even if Life is a hospital
where people treat you
with drops of Indifference
while Death counts souls
if the Internet crashed
I would walk barefeet in the dust
to feel the cold body of my ancestors
or I would shave my head
so that nobody notices
how beautifully it snows
I would stop this talking
(a whole lot of nothing)
and I would kick you
where it hurts the most
to prove you
how much I love you
I was born on Google
everybody knows
and I endlessly seek
a place
to confess
poem by Ionuţ Caragea from M-am născut pe Google (2007), translated by Ioana Tirtirau
Submitted by Ionuţ Caragea
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I don't know how many thoughts we have a second, but it's quite an amazing number, and just to pin down the appropriate sequence of those, all you really need is a pencil and a piece of paper.
quote by Robert Wyatt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tried and Tested
My pencil holds a multitude
of varied possiblities.
Which I accept with gratitude
I grasp the opportunities
To write my thoughts in black and white
on any subject that I choose.
Expressing sorrow or delight
enabling me to share my views
With other poets on the net.
Who also share their thoughts with me
although in fact we have not met.
The common bond is poetry.
I am old fashioned proud to use
The simplest of technology.
A pencil is the tool I choose
it helps my thoughts flow easily.
I don’t compose on my P.C.
Though I suppose I should learn to.
I’d rather scribble happily
in pencil as I usually do.
24/06/2009
http: //.blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Lead
My pencil’s charged with poetry.
It can write verses fluidly
and inscribe them on the sheet
in rhyme and perfect metric feet.
It’s such a simple artefact
but filled with magic that’s a fact.
A pristine page is quite enough
to make my pencil do it’s stuff.
My pad, my pencil and my muse
can’t see a challenge and refuse
A blank page they can’t bear to see.
That why I’m writing poetry
I have a pad I have a pen
which forces me to write again.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry
Poetry.......
Poetry defines me
Poetry.......
A place where you be you and I'll be me.
Poetry.......
We are best friends for eternity.
My Poetry.......
Is the daughter of my emotion,
There I've said it, no need to interpret the connection.
Poetry.......
Where my pen and paper are sealed with a kiss,
So easy to write for my mind is a bliss.
Poetry.......
Poetry has multiple meanings,
An indescribable feeling when I realize others understand them.
My Poetry.......
It just comes natural to me.
My Poetry.......
Is out there, , , , , away from exile,
And style of writing is very versatile.
Poetry.......Poetry.......
P oetry.......
It speaks out to me.
poem by Anita Khelawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As I sit down and start to work, I often panic. I stare at the empty piece of music paper. How can I say that my piece will be ready for performance next January when I do not have a recipe for making it happen?
quote by Lukas Foss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Young Poet
Poetry was something else
written by others
somewhere else
and came from
somewhere else
but the poetry
which he did not know
called one day
in a language he did not know
so he put down words on paper
and threw the paper away
but the words did not go away
and he did not know what poetry should do
until he wrote the words
which told him
what poetry could do
for only poetry can teach you poetry
*
Gertrude Stein stood behind me while I wrote this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Utencils
Pencil, pen, charcoal, graphite, i can use whatever utencil
I want to write ' rhymes so slick'
I could write a lymric in skilcraft or a sonnet with bic
And if you want to learn how come close, Ill show ya
This is the beginners lesson, grab yourself a #2 ticonderoga
get your piece of paper, some lines to lay on
Maybe at the end draw a picture with your favorite colour crayon
You see im an artist, what i do is compose art
My first set of colored pencils: 12 pack of roseart
But no matter the tool, graphite charcoal pen or pencil
Ill try to make art with any utencil
poem by Jason Murak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What's the real meaning of Poetry
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
what is the real meaning of you?
is it the sonnets, the haiku's the imagery
no one will ever know.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
I know the real meaning of you
to express my feelings and thoughts on paper
to be able to publish you.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
you tell me the meaning of you.
poem by Nadia Potenza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Middle of Madness
I can hear every tick of the clock.
My body is showered from nervous sweat.
Oh no my pencil tip broke,
and I must stop to sharpen it;
all the while losing time.
My mind has gone as blank
as the paper which I’m writing on.
Tick – Tock goes the clock as time moves on.
Times up the voice shots;
My hand goes limp and my pencil falls to
rest upon the edge of the paper.
I let out a big sigh of relief, for the madness has subside,
For my mid-terms are done.
An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drunk On Poetry
Poetry surges steadily
Through my veins
I grant it to stream through them
Day in and day out
Sleep and awake
I believe it's a healthy obsession
I get drunk on it
The more I inject in me
My mind thrives on poetry
My soul thrives on poetry
I become addicted
Sometimes I absorb too much poetry
Reading, writing and listening
I become drunk sometimes
Poetry spills from my pen
Inking a piece of paper
And unto another and another
Constantly on every thought
Humorous, emotionally, romantic, tragic
Experiencing in life
Opinionated, factual, abstract
Political, any subject that's on my thoughts
Sometimes I become drunk
The more i inject into me
Poetry I live for
Eat, drink, sleep
Racing through my spirit
Poetry, poetry, poetry
I loose myself sometimes
When I digest too much
Poems that I write
I write for me
I share them with the world
I can't resist this urge
Poetry is what I crave
It happens to be my mistress
I become drunk
The more I inject
My mind thrives on poetry
My soul thrives on poetry
I become so addicted
Breathing in too much poetry
Reading, writing, listening
I'm drunk sometimes
Poetry I write
Write from experience
What I've done
What I've heard
What I've seen
What I've felt
What I've known
Poetry I live for
Eating, drinking, sleeping
Racing through my spirit
Poetry, poetry, poetry
On my thoughts poetry
Loosing myself sometimes
When I inject enough
This is what I've become
A drunken poet
poem by R.K. Cowles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper And Ink
Touched the mirror
Broke the surface of the water
Saw my true self
All illusions shattered
Money's only paper only ink
We'll destroy ourselves if we can't agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Sat down up close to the colored black hole
Like they'd always told me not to
Saw the one dimension polka dot pacifier
And all illusions shattered
Money's only paper only ink
We'll destroy ourselves if we can't agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Bared myself wholly heart and body unadorned
Stripped down solely
To the evil and the good
Felt no shame
Naked to the world
And all illusions shattered
Money's only paper only ink
We'll destroy ourselves if we can't agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Faced towards the sea
Looked to heaven up above
Felt the world revolve around me
No one could tell me otherwise
But the turbulent waters won't reflect this life
Only the sun the moon and sky
And all illusions shattered
Money's only paper only ink
We'll destroy ourselves if we can't agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Money's only paper only ink
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paper & Ink
Touched the mirror
Broke the surface of the water
Saw my true self
All illusions shattered
Moneys only paper only ink
Well destroy ourselves if we cant agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Sat down up close to the colored black hole
Like theyd always told me not to
Saw the one dimension polka dot pacifier
And all illusions shattered
Moneys only paper only ink
Well destroy ourselves if we cant agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Bared myself wholly heart and body unadorned
Stripped down solely
To the evil and the good
Felt no shame
Naked to the world
And all illusions shattered
Moneys only paper only ink
Well destroy ourselves if we cant agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Faced towards the sea
Looked to heaven up above
Felt the world revolve around me
No one could tell me otherwise
But the turbulent waters wont reflect this life
Only the sun the moon and sky
And all illusions shattered
Moneys only paper only ink
Well destroy ourselves if we cant agree
How the world turns
Who made the sun
Who owns the sea
The world we know will fall piece by piece
Moneys only paper only ink
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just IS! (for Gina)
Because you are
the way you are
I love you
just the way
you is.
*******
JUST IS
Poetry is shadow
dancing with light.
Poetry is paper
longing to become voice.
Poetry is musical notation
turning into sound.
Poetry is a world
that is flat
becoming round.
Poetry is the longed for kiss
that’s going to happen
but hasn’t happened
just as yet.
Poetry is the kiss
you’d miss
if it wasn’t
there.
Poetry is falling in love
with sound and language
(you can’t have one without the other)
and being happily married
to its sixth sense
Poetry
Poetry
...just is.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think I've spent so much time playing characters that are so far away from me and learning how to technically build and how to technically put something on top of you.
quote by Josh Lucas
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The worst thing you can do is censor yourself as the pencil hits the paper. You must not edit until you get it all on paper. If you can put everything down, stream-of-consciousness, you'll do yourself a service.
quote by Stephen Sondheim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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