The fact that The Bridge contains folk lore and other material suitable to the epic form need not therefore prove its failure as a long lyric poem, with interrelated sections.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

poem by Aisha PattersonReport problemRelated quotes
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Life Art

Life Art

I want to write you a poem.

One that contains no verses

no words

how long it will be
I cannot tell.

It will be a poem that you can see through
yet it will shade you from the sun

a simple lyric
as complex as a crossword

I want it to be something
that you carry through your day

every day

I don’t know if I can write that poem

Or if indeed that poem can be written at all

So instead I am with you
Of you

And slowly together
we are writing our very own poem

Not on a page
Or in a lost notebook

But in the café
and in the street

At a table

In our bed

Every day we add another line

another image
another verse

and I know that with every word that we write
I want it to be the longest poem

That has ever been written.

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Epic Poem

This poem is epic
so I named it so
it's more epic than wind and snow
which are in there own respects quite epic
snow could be described as ghetto
and wind can take on epic forms
like a spinning tiger with legs made of iron bars
that would be pretty epic
infact I think that happened in outer mongolia
to a young girl how got hit by the iron bars
sadly she died
but the type of death was one we all wish for
over exposure to pure epicness
like viewing a snail with a lightsaber who flies over mountains made of cheese
that's bleedin' epic
imagine it if you can
can you?

I imagined it so according to the ontological arguement
it exists
im scared now
it may be coming to get me
and although I will suffer the best kind of death
it will be death still
and what is death without life
it is simply death
that was mock epic
those statements aren't as deep as you think they are
they are meerly the ramblings of a crazy man
you fell for it did you not
I know you did for I can see you
your PC moniter is actually a camera

If you're paranoid then you will be scared now
and for that reason I laugh
I can see your fear
I smell it
it is like raspberry ripple ice cream
your fear is wierd
I don't like you anymore
this poem is bleedin' epic!

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Can A Poem Be Written

CAN A POEM BE WRITTEN

Can a Poem be written
In Anger Frustration Fear Disappointment?
Can it be written
In Failure?
Can a Poem be written
When no light shines
And the middle of the night is longer
Than life itself?

Can a Poem be written now
When old afraid sad angry foolish failure me
Cannot even dream?

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Butterfly

everything is interrelated
nothing is
compartmentalized

thus
when the butterfly in China dies
the bear in Russia also suffers

when the monkey in the Philippines
falls short of the banana
the anaconda of Brazil becomes sterile

when the tiger of Africa kills
the parrot in Paraguay feels

everything is interrelated
nothing is a stone
no one is a creek
we are all one river.

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With several different kinds of poetry to choose from, a man would decide that he would like best to be an epic poet, and he would set out, in conscious determination, on an epic poem.

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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem

THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-

I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-

A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.

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There Was A Poem Long Ago

THERE WAS A POEM LONG AGO

There was a poem long ago
A poem of youth and hope
Now there are other poems
Poems of age and sorrow.
There was a poem once
Of love – and happiness in love
Now there is a poem of lovelessness
And sadness.
There was a poem once
Of the long and distant open road
Now there is a poem of the dead end.
There was a poem once
That believed in Poetry
Now there is a poem that knows
Even the most beautiful worlds of words
End in dust
There was a poem once – long ago.

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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.

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There’s Poetry In Writing A Winning Lyric' (And Great Satisfaction In Writing A Fine Poem)

I believe that if you can speak, you can write….,
So almost anyone can be a lyricist or a poet too…! ! !
Of course there’s talent involved…,
And some are blessed to have much more than others do….,
But if you can compose a letter, or hold a conversation….,
I feel you could write a song lyric or a poem….,
Now that doesn’t mean it’ll be top-notch….,
Or for that matter, even mediocre….,
But when you’re in a crowd or all alone….,
Try it…! ! !
Cause There’s Poetry In Writing A Winning Lyric….,
And Great Satisfaction In Writing A Fine Poem…! ! !

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Death of an Unknown Poet

An epic,
written by a brilliant mind
like Van Gogh,
underappreciated.
The poet dies in a squalid flat,
penniless and alone.
His lifes' work-
fantasmic verses of a visionary-
are all stuffed post-humously
into a box.
His genius,
mistaken for useless scribble,
is discarded like so much riff-raff.
It decays, forgotten.
Years pass.
The epic masterpiece alone survives
in that box filled with scraps of faded ink.
A single heart-wrenching poem,
now loved by millions,
by a now-mourned author
who's name evaporated, forgotten by time.
An epic
written by
Anonymous.

(15 minute poem challenge)

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It's The Things You Do

Chorus:
It's the things you do
That have made me fall
So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do
Nothin' left to prove
It's the things you do

(It's the things you do)

You touched my love line
So deep inside I
Never thought I'd feel so good
Oh no
No need to hide now
Open up your mind now
Let me make it understood
Because

Bridge:
Cos nobody ever said to me
All of the things we shared within
Now that I know that you can see
Let me fill you up

Chorus

(It's the things you do)

You and me baby like the ABC
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
Could it be unity
I need like J Hoffa
Romance your body
Work it out - mm proper
One of the finest
Things on my mind is
How you make me feel like gold queen Midas
Straight A plus the material I bust
But the things that you do
Keep me up and it's a must

Bridge

It's the things you do
That have made me fall
So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do (what else can I do)
Nothin' left to prove (baby nothing left to prove)
It's the things you do
That have made me fall
So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do
Nothin' left to prove

(It's the things you do)

Give me a chance and let me in
There's no need to hide what's there within
Now that I know that you can see
Let me fill you up
You got that Midas touch
I love you more than enough
For all the things that you do
It's the things you do

So in love with you
You can have it all
What else can I do
Nothin' left to prove
It's the things you do

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Art of Material

Whether metal, whether polymer
Whether ceramic, whether composite
From nature, by research
Material is the world you hold

Whether unknown, whether common
Whether conventional, whether advanced
History conservation, nanotechnology
Material is the human’s play

Hard but brittle, soft but ductile
Manipulate structure, gain properties
Detect defect, the failure track
Material is the tool of living

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Spirits In The Material World

There is no political solution
To our troubled evolution
Have no faith in constitution
There is no bloody revolution
We are spirits in the material world
Our so-called leaders speak
With words they try to jail you
The subjugate the meek
But its the rhetoric of failure
We are spirits in the material world
Where does the answer lie?
Living from day to day
If its something we cant buy
There must be another way
We are spirits in the material world

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Lyrics Of Life

In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.

You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.

The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.

The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.

Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.

A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will


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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.

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My Song Is You...

In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.

You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.

The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.

The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.

Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.

A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will

poem by Joe FazioReport problemRelated quotes
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Life And Lyrics

In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.

You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.

The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.

The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.

Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.

A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will.

poem by Joe FazioReport problemRelated quotes
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MY Heart Sings...

In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.

You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.

The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.

The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.

Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.

A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will

poem by Joe FazioReport problemRelated quotes
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