The poet's expression of joy conceals his despair at not having found the reality of joy.
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But Don't Despair
Despair, if you must –
But how's it going to pull you through?
Despair, when you trust
Naught since then there's naught to do.
Despair, should you thrust
Aside your pride, your self-esteem.
And so despair, if it's dust,
The only substance that you deem.
Despair, when a gust
Of slightly breeze can break your stance.
And do despair, when lust
Is your interpretation of romance.
But don't despair, if you can care
About the plight of any other being.
And you can focus on the help,
Support, and altruistic further actions
For the seeing. Be believing,
As despair will start receding
All around – simply since you found
A way to steer you clear
From this: the very cause of your despair!
So give to others; give them all a helping lift:
Despair, you'll find will disappear –
And that has got to be a well-deserved
And saintly gift!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Rain of despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Dreamer's Poet
Dreamers dream
dreaming that
all their dreams are dreams;
and is reality then multiple-shaped
or itself a dream?
If dreams are things not real or true
or don't yet exist
then what does it mean for dreamer to
act upon the dream and bring it forth
into reality?
Was the dream just reality
not yet existent;
in waiting so to speak?
Or was it live
always there
waiting to be discovered?
Seems to me
this is much like a poem;
how the poem comes to be-
unless, of course,
the poet
is a dream too,
outside reality
paradoxical conundrum
don't you see?
And more:
could it be the Dreamer's Poet
in dreaming thus
creates the Poet
and the Poetry
both of which
become Reality
Thus?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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No One Needs A Poet Of Despair
NO ONE NEEDS A POET OF DESPAIR
No one needs a poet of Despair
There is too much already here-
If you can write Hope
Into the hearts of others,
God bless you.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem Is The Poet
THE POEM IS THE POET
The poem is the poet
It tells his story even when he does not intend it to-
It bears his signature even when he forges it-
The poem is the poet-
It reflects his mind his soul-
It cannot be written without what he is
Though he denies what he is to himself-
The poem is the poet
And the poet's contradictions-
It is the mask of his self - expression
And his ultimate definition in words-
When he writes he becomes himself
And when he finishes it
He leaves a part of himself in it for as long as it exists.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Preciseness
All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.
And the writing of it is what gets done.
For a poet.
Who unlike critics...
Sit and wait for something tart to remark.
That could be said of most!
Certainly not for everyone.
Is this place offered to those who create.
For those who are innovative in thought.
And not scholared in debated...
Seeking to correct self expressions.
And...
Hoping to find a clue what to do with their own.
If that should happen before the ego does arrive.
All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.
I can pretend I know it all and I know I don't.
So you get no entertaining charades from me.
However,
Expect everything you can imagine,
From those who have none!
Their preciseness is overdone.
With an overbite.
And under-rated is their aggravation.
With an unspoken wish they were out of sight.
And they would get it delivered quickly.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Despair Of The Early Morning
DESPAIR OF THE EARLY MORNING
Despair of the early morning
Despair of the darkness
Despair of the Despair
Despair of Old Age
Despair of the road closed
Despair of nothing to do
Despair of nowhere to go
Despair of endless errands
Despair of money running out
Despair of the message of Despair
One transmits to those one loves.
Despair that has to be resisted
Despair that the light of the day
Will help me overcome
Despair I will pray my way out of
Despair I will in the course of the day
Sometime overcome.
Not the great Despair
The unending Despair
The final Despair.
The small Despair of who I am and where I am now.
The Despair that still can be resisted,
By the writing of a few awkward lines
Early in the morning.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Despair Is Darkness
DESPAIR IS DARKNESS
Despair is darkness-
Despair is death inside and death in the world and death in one’s own sad soul-
Despair is no way out -
Despair is the place where one is forever stuck -
Despair is the realization that one has done what one could – and one is not going anywhere else-
Despair is the admission of failure-
Despair is no sign of help anywhere around-
Despair is so much lost-
Despair is one‘s life is over-
Despair is regret-
Despair is the sense that one will never have the time to have another chance -
Despair is ‘it’s finished’-
Despair is no way out-
Despair is going down and more down and more dark and more afraid all the time -
Despair is the scream which hurts and does not stop the hurting -
Despair is the understanding that even Death will not save one -
Despair is that the pain will never end-not even with death.
Despair is no way out again and again and again- without end.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dear World
I often forget that you think
differently from me, whereas
I respect & value all opinions
I forget that everybody has a
unique personality, sees life in
a different light
Sometimes when I express pain
or delight in hoping a reader might
get an inkling of how it felt, yet no-
one seems to feel the same way, I
feel bad - thinking I have failed
Afterwards I remember writing is
important as a way of expressing
feelings, NOT a way to impress
anyone; true expression of true
feeling should not become a
popularity contest
It is the reader's prerogative to
feel and react as they do, cool
people find such emotional
expression strange while I am
confused by their calm way of
dealing with things
But I LIKE their Saturnine self-
sufficiency and apologise for
not always respecting quiet
detachment - I very much
approve of it, just forgetting
how big the difference is
Reality is better than dreams
because reality is wider; every
dream is limited, collapsing the
infinite possibilities of reality
into small expression
I prefer escaping the self-centred
melodrama of dreams in reality
enabling us to recreate dreams
and rework visions everlastingly
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Poet and Chivalry
Poet, an industry not of mankind
An era that poet’s in awe to partake a rite
Poetry belongs to the ancient tribe
An era that poet’s dissolute and roaming
Poetry ascribes to nature and wildness
An era that poet a jester praised in comic to entertain the king
Poetry is the plaything of an empire
The era that poet yields to the media, pursuing fame and fortune
Poetry is a consuming product
Poet holds in awe since the heaven and earth are vast
Poet’s degenerated because of his nature
Poet’s comical because ironical the self derision
Poet capitulates because of human’s weakness
Although poet hasn’t always been an industry of mankind
Its luster would shine upon the darkness that poet ever survived
Lighting a light in darkness of history and showing its courage
Lighting a light in darkness of future and proving its foresight
Compromised the life
But allows not to compromise of poetry
The spirit and vitality of a chivalry is the case
Poet, still not an industry of mankind
Today
The chivalry has sealed his sword and pen
The page of poetry gradually stained and spotted yellow
The sharp sword conceals a smoked silver flash
poem by DePen Chang
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Every poem
Every poem stands
on its own legs
and although
it displays something
of the poet’s soul,
in reality the poet
stands totally free
from it.
Every word and rhyme
and every verse
is totally independent
from who and what
the poet is
and is nothing more
than a verbal painting
of feelings, life, reflections
or any thing
that the poet wants
to express.
poem by Gert Strydom
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This Poet Is Always Beside You
You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Poet is free
Poet is free
No grammarian can guide the poet
Do not tell before a poet you are dare
And I know there are so many grammarians
With so many grammars
The poet is one with truth with love
All the grammars old middle modern
Are of no use for a poet
At the time of poet's thought
Poet's love poet's poetry
Nobody can search research poet's history
Nobody can dare to described poet
Poet can create his own language
His own grammar and it does not bother the poet
Whether you like it or not
Leave the poet on his own way
It is better you to read him love him
If you are alive.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Key To Specimen Slices Of Life
I believe I have not really written yet;
I believe I may not get time chance;
I believe I can; I feel so much unsaid;
I believe in not taking self too seriously;
but writing thoughts expressed perfectly
exactly as perceived in eureka mind's eye;
is key to insight fuse expression;
is key to specimen slices of life;
reality magnified focus perception;
heightened into new concept mind;
reality sliced diced beheld
is touchstone to reality fusion;
poem by Terence George Craddock
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No Unread Poem Will End The Despair I Feel Now
NO UNREAD POEM WILL END THE DESPAIR I FEEL NOW
No unread poem will end the despair I feel now
Nor will a poem read
By one or two.
Should the world say
I am a poet.
Perhaps this would mean something.
I don’t know.
No one knows,
No one cares.
I am a poet only for myself
And for myself too
This begins to be
Nothing.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music.
quote by Soren Kierkegaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whose Reality?
Whose reality have we found ourselves in?
The reality given to us by those who sin.
Break out of it I say. There is a way.
Picture yourself in a world of peace
that has no sinners lurking around.
Shut the door on everything else
and what is it you've found?
You're a hermit.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A -21st -Century Poet
A -21st -Century Poet:
A -21st -Century Poet:
A poet is
a person who liberates 'I' on race, religion, place, time, personal voices
out of greed, anger and ignorance.
A poet is
a person who liberates
obsessive criterion of institutional power and money.
A poet is
a person who respects a variety of cultures,
who creates educational awareness.
A poet is
a person who surely knows himself
of being humanistic to others and himself and knowing
that of liberation from the obsessive humanity
A poet is
a p[erson who makes and builds
a bridge between universalism and worldisms
and walks over the bridge
but
he is already liberated from the concept of
obsessive reality of a bridge.
Hopeless Bleak Despair
I never knew what everybody meant by endless, hopeless bleak despair
Until one day when I found out
The first time I ever left my house
It saw me and followed me home
And stayed with me for my whole life
For years and years I wandered the earth
Condemned to a life of bleak despair
Then one day I looked around and found
It had disappeared
All this bleak despair
It was always there
And then one day it disappeared
In a puff of smoke
In an unceremonious way
One day it disappeared
All I had ever wanted in my life was only to be free of it
It drove away my family
It made me lose my job
Whenever anybody saw it
Theyd say get out of here
For years and years I wandered the earth
Sick of my life, looking forward to death
The one day I looked around and found
It had disappeared
All this bleak despair
It was always there
And then one day it disappeared
In a puff of smoke
In an unceremonious way
One day it disappeared
For years and years I wandered the earth
Until I died and went to hell but my
Despair had ascended to heaven
Thats how I finally got rid of it
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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