What we know is that Shakespeare wrote perhaps the most remarkable body of passionate love poetry in the English language to a young man.

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Shakespeare Wrote A Poetry

SHAKESPEARE WROTE A POETRY

Once upon a time
Long before I read
Shakespeare wrote a poetry
No one shall see
The like of again.

We small soundmaking fools
Utter our deepest utterances
As if they were the stars-

But the stars the true stars
What Shakespeare wrote and knew
We cannot touch
Or come near
Not even in our greatest words unseen.

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It is no exaggeration to say that the English Bible is, next to Shakespeare, the greatest work in English literature, and that it will have much more influence than even Shakespeare upon the written and spoken language of the English race.

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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.

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Poetry is? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

What is poetry is like asking,
'Why is the sky blue? '
There is no answer to What or Why?
but, in any event,
I shall try.

Poetry flows from my heart through my pen,
down through
its neb,
Like a fly struggling in the web of a spider, waiting
to be free.

What is poetry-who knows-could be as simple as the
morning dew on a rose,
children’s laughter,
a baby’s cry,
a mother crooning a lullaby,
bells chiming loud and clear,
the voices
of those that we hold dear.

Poetry is the language of the soul
It gives us the courage to afford life’s many streams
It expands our horizons to realize our dreams.

To summarize the above
Poetry is the Language of Love
Poetry is the Language of the Soul
Poetry is the Language of Life
over which we have
no control.

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yes, what if God does not speak english at all?

you were not born yesterday
and probably heard it before

that if your God does not speak english
then he must not be God

of course, something arrogant
hangs in the air
of this effortless superiority that
'englishers'
'english-plongplangs'
clai m, which, of course, we
always oppose and dub
as prettry dumb silly

but anyhow, yes, we are asked again
what if?
what if, this God, does not really speak English?

well, of course, he is still God
and he must not have considered the english language
that important

and i agree, even if i speak it,
i still have this language
of my soul,

albeit, in english, for you,
who does not speak my own language,

yes, of course, for you to perhaps
understand,

but i like it though, this thought
that God does not speak
the english language, lest, he may sound

so englishly, oh well,
arrogant.....

dear God
do you really...not speak english?

poem by Ric S. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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Body Language

Words and music by freddie mercury
Give me body give me body body
Give me your body
Dont talk dont talk dont talk dont talk
Baby dont talk
Body language body language body language
Give me your body
Just give me yeah your body
Give me yeah your body
Dont talk
Body language huh huh
Body language body language
You got red lips snakes in your eyes
Long legs great thighs
You got the cutest ass Ive ever seen
Knock me down for a six any time
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Of body language of body language
Yeah sexy body sexy sexy body
I want your body
Baby youre hot
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language

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Once Upon A Time

ONCE UPON A TIME

Once upon a time
Long before I read
Shakespeare wrote a poetry
No one shall see
The like of again.

We small soundmaking fools
Utter our deepest utterances
As if they were the stars-

But the stars the true stars
What Shakespeare wrote and knew
We cannot touch
Or come near
Not even in our greatest words unseen.

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Longing for Shakespeare!

(Today is anniversary of the man who make us love, fine aspects of english language!)

Poetic world
Looks forlorn
May another
Shakespeare be born

Alas, Prose and poetry
Exude curses!
We read
Drab verses!

Soap operas
Have replaced plays!
Eclipsed sun shines
And fools make hay!

No husband
Can tame his shrew!
Merchants of Venice
Can hardly argue!

The passionate pilgrim
Always thinks
-That Brutus, Macbeth and shylocks
Are new age kings

With dubious Romeos
and equally corrupt Juliet’s,
Its a measure for measure
In our new age 'tempest'

Yes, its much ado about nothing
Because life is a midsummer night’s dream
As tragic as Julius Caesar
May be it is the comedy of errors!

Will his birth a love’s labour lost
Or a literary gift!
All’s well that ends well!
As you like it!

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I was in Paris at an English-language bookstore. I picked up a volume of Dickinson's poetry. I came back to my hotel, read 2,000 of her poems and immediately began composing in my head. I wrote down the melodies even before I got to a piano.

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Finglish

I am from Finland and i speak 'Finglish'!
Because i am learning the English language and,
It always infuses with my Finnish.
I am learning to keep me going but,
I do speak my English like 'Finglish'! !
And i always try to enforce the truth of my peace like,
The subconscious act from my mind to muse up things:
But i am unaware of your love.
Try to keep me informed on this love and,
Try to teach me the English language so that i cam be with you;
For the heavens and the earth do know how i do speak.
Keep me on the tracks of your love and teach me more!
For one day i will learn the English language very well;
And i will be ready to teach you my Finnish language as well.

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The Language I Feel Most At Home In

THE LANGUAGE I FEEL MOST AT HOME IN

The language I feel most at home in
Is not my own.
My own sacred language
Is my second best.
English is too great for me
And I am not like Joyce
Able to contend with and transcend it –
I write my small lines in the language
Shakespeare is the glass of fashion and the mould of form of –
I one more minor actor in a cast of many millions
Play my words upon the page as best I can.
But why mind and remember me and mine
When there are so many and so so much far greater?

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Drops Of Poetry

Drops of Poetry,
on my mind,
soaking in memories,
of things I remember,
of long ago.

Pouring down drops
on to my heart, releasing
my inner thoughts,
from this soul I have,

to write things that
must be told,
love that escaped
from my life, never
more to be seen.

Hurt, tears, broken
dreams torn away
from me, like a falling
star that becomes
just dust in the air.

Drops of Poetry so
clear is it now,
my body so wet,
from these drops
of poetry that stands,

all around me,
in the mist that
i now see,
my whole body
has been cleansed,
from all of these
drops of poetry.

wrote 3-15-07

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I definitely wish to distinguish American poetry from British or other English language poetry.

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Body Langauge

Give me, body - give me - body - body -
Give me your body
Dont talk, baby dont talk
Body language
Give me your body
Just give me your body
Give me your body
Dont talk
Body language
You got red lips
Snakes in your eyes
Long legs, great thighs
Youve got the cutest ass Ive ever seen
Knock me down for a six anytime
Look at me - I gotta case of body language
Body language - body language - yeah
Sexy body, sexy, sexy body
I want yoyr body
Baby youre hot
Body language

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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.

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I Hid Nothing From My Poetry

I HID NOTHING FROM MY POETRY

I hid nothing from my poetry-
I gave it all I had
My deepest feeling of my own life-
I wrote as if telling it to God -

But who needs these feelings?
And is it really poetry?

All my weaknesses and doubts and hesitations and fears
I wrote and write-

My poetry is my signature and says who I am
What it is others must feel and judge-

May God forgive me for my hubris and ambition
Even in writing this.

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Who's To Blame

Oh Mother Ghana; Mother Ghana
What has happened to you?
What has happened to your culture?
They say we've fold arms against 'Vernacular' language
Instead opened arms wide to 'English' language

Oh Mother Ghana Mother Ghana
Why?
At school, we are taught the things we do not know
By the 'English' language
Why not 'Vernacular' language?

Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Where is your true identity as pure African?
Where is your pride as true Ghanaian?

Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana,
Day after day
When we put on the uniform as students
We are forbidden to speak 'Vernacular' language
Instead the 'English' language
Why Mother Ghana, why Mother Ghana?
When we speak 'Vernacular' language; your culture,
They say: 'Speak English' someone's culture!
When we speak 'English' that someone's culture
They say: 'Abrofosem; speak vernacular language' your culture!

Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Who's to blame?
'English or Vernacular language'
Oh Mother Ghana; Oh Mother Ghana.

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English dramatic literature is, of course, dominated by Shakespeare; and it is almost inevitable that an English reader should measure the value of other poetic drama by the standards which Shakespeare has already implanted in his mind.

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Everybody gets a little dose of Shakespeare. He's the greatest playwright in the English language, but his politics are fairly square.

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The Language That The Poor Wants To Speak

do you speak good English?
do you take pride in it and then use it to impress others
and swindle them
into a belief that they are inferior?

they have feelings too
of humiliation
which even in such a sad state
wish that their humiliation
speak good English still

they always think that English will give them
a good job
a better standing in the society
a flare of fashionable tongue

you make them cry
but still they want to speak that cry in English too

foolish!

but can you blame them?
you who hold that power and might
you who have taken all what they once had
and made them
worse within
themselves

despite which,
they still want to be like you
to speak like you
a god

how sad!


you have never known the language of love
the grammar of generosity
the syntax of sympathy
that language that good English
sometimes has forgotten
to utter

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