Five Charms in Praise of Bewilderment
1.
At first when you leave town,
the dog and I maintain dignified silence.
After no more than two hours
I’m talking to her, after three
she’s telling me the story of her life.
I nod my head at every word,
encouraging her
to take all the time she needs.
2.
I have the vice
of courting poems.
Pathetic, I know.
I also like to watch Oprah
if no one is around to notice.
That’s right,
I court poems, I watch Oprah,
I even let out wordless sighs late at night,
and call them
my spring fields ploughed, my ready earth.
3.
Sitting quietly at dusk, I’ll admit
my life goes like this:
dark branches
scratching the still darker window.
4.
“How are you?”
I ask a woman at work.
“I have no idea,”
she replies,
sounding pleased with herself
at the heartfeltness
of her own bewilderment.
5.
We don’t know,
can’t possibly know,
never have known,
never will know.
We just don’t know.
poem by Jim Moore from Invisible Strings (2011)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Related quotes
Late night driven by
Late night
And i´m sitting here
Watching the dark road pass me by
Trough the car window, there´s him
And then there´s me
Late night
And i´m sitting here
Thinking about the random things that cross my mind
Next to me, there´s him
And then there´s me
Late night
Driving trough the loneliness of the night
Watching my life before my eyes
There´s him and
Then there´s me
Late night
And the radio is the only thing
We can possibly hear at this moment
There´s him and then there´s me
This silence is striking
Late night
Tried falling asleep
There´s him
There´s me
I wonder if he knows that
There is you.
poem by Nina gáspari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tess's Typewriter.
That year they gave Tess
her first typewriter. She'd
not need to borrow her
brother's battered old piece
or write down her fragile
poems in her spiderlike
scrawl as her father called it.
The promise came while
she was getting her mind
together in that mental
asylum, after the mucky
love affair that went no
place and left her hanging
there, like one crucified
for all to see and most
to softly mutter and stare.
Get yourself mended girl,
Father said, and we'll buy
you your own typewriter,
so you can stab away on
the keys to your heart's
content and bring out
those poems of yours.
He never read her poems,
never read much apart
from the back page sport
or gawked at page 3 girls
with a tut tutting tongue.
That year she gazed out
of the wide barred window
of the asylum at the snow
on fields, at the seagulls
gathering and feeding behind
the faraway tractor as it
ploughed, at the grey
depressing sky, wondering
what it'd be like to not be,
wondering what the woman
with a cast in her eye, was
doing to herself in the toilets,
one night when she'd gone
in to pee unable to sleep.
The typewriter idea
and promise kind of got her
through the dark hours and
the ECT, and the following day
headaches and numbness.
After slitting her wrists (mildly,
a cry for help) she said on the
phone to her father, Come get
me out of this place, help me
get back together. Ok, he said,
Miss Humpty Dumpty, and he
put down the phone, and she
stood in the hall of the asylum
with the receiver in her hand,
the image of the typewriter
before her eyes, those poems
banging on the inside of her
head, new ones wanting to
get out, old ones left for dead.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Which Poems Are True and Which Poems Only A Story?
WHICH POEMS ARE TRUE AND WHICH POEMS ONLY A STORY?
Which poems are true
and which poems only a story?
There are poems I have to write
They are the heart of who I am-
And other poems that tell a story my mind makes
And takes me where I do not know I'll ever really be-
There are real poems and there are imaginary poems-
And there are poems-in- between like this one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The biggest adventure you can ever take is to live the life of your dreams.
Oprah Winfrey in O, The Oprah Magazine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
We are each responsible for our own life - no other person is or even can be.
Oprah Winfrey in O, The Oprah Magazine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
If you want your life to be more rewarding, you have to change the way you think.
Oprah Winfrey in O, The Oprah Magazine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Of delicate poems
These poems speak their minds
Be it grief
Be it bliss
But what matters most is that these poems
Have minds of their own
And they do not just listen, and absorb
Or absurd, but what matters most of all
I repeat
For emphasis
For you who like to see
The stone saints along the pedestal
Remembered as you say
By the ravages of the times,
Is that
These poems have minds of their own
And they have mouths that speak,
So delicately, that they have threads
Like tendrils that entwine
A fence
Like it is making love and you watch
It with contempt
But as I see your face
You watch it with envy,
Really, these delicate poems, now speaking
More of grief
Of lamentations
Like a woman veiled and wailing then singing
The most beautiful song of the lost,
Her husband dead
One of the time’s war’s casualties
A grief in a song
And you shall hear it, a grief in a song,
Reverberating through the winds of change
Inside your ear
There are no ballads, or odes to your
West wind
There are none, for in truth, in this world
The ballads are outdated
Run over by the grief of the many
Some even still untold
Waiting to unfold
And you are there, how insensitive!
Telling them to have a grip of something else
Why not walk your dachshund?
And watch it pee beside a tree and
There you watch with so much glee!
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is confidence in our bodies, minds and spirits that allows us to keep looking for new adventures, new directions to grow in, and new lessons to learn - which is what life is all about.
Oprah Winfrey in O, The Oprah Magazine (May 2004)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Old Man....
there is this garden that you tend
you put the seeds and they all sprout in time
time waters it
the changes take place
soon the flowers bloom and
you watch all these
with patience
there is this light feeling that comes
like butterfly wings
white against the dusk
there is nothing new in that garden
you are sick and takes the rest
you sit by the window
the same window all these 50 years
time is you boring attendant
independent from your grasp
it can exist without you
you sit and watch the world passing by
like a flower slowly unfolding
and you never notice it
you go out
you have recovered from a disease
you
take a walk
visit some friends
come back in the afternoon
you watch the view from the window
again
this you do perhaps for another 50 years
of your life
setting aside fears of not having to
step upon 60
life is short for those who have no one to love
it is the same field same mountain
bald and brown
same clouds
pale blue and drifting
same fog
fading like a magical show
same window
that you close again
because it is dark
and cold inside
your old wooden bed
that you have
inherited from your
forefathers
as usual
you take your sleep
time passes you by
the room is so silent
as though
it is the home for
the dead
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dark Light
Look out, cause theres something wrong
And you dont know what it is
Watch out, or its sodom and gommorah
The malevolent order
Right now, before its much too late
Before its much too late
A dark light---a darkness never ending
A dark light---the devil gets his due
A dark night---is everywhere descending
A dark light---is coming for you
Now look up, well the skies are black
And theyre getting darker all the time
Watch out, for the things that you believe in
Youre gonna be attacked,
And you wont know what it is
Wise up, you better watch your step
You better watch your step
A dark light---a darkness never ending
A dark light---of perversion and hate
A dark night---is everywhere descending
A dark light---theres no time to wait
Look out, for the death of love
There will be no more love
Watch out, its yourself that you are fooling
Who do you think youre fooling
Shout it out, its a terrible thing
Such a terrible thing
A dark light---a darkness never ending
A dark light---the sun is turning cool
A dark night---is everywhere descending
A dark light---is shining at you
Dark light, dark light
Is shining at you, dark light
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry Obsession
I have been writing poetry for just over a year;
That I love poetry, I guess, it's perfectly clear.
My output, to date, has been really quite prolific.
I feel pleased with my work, but it's not terrific.
Now is the time for me to make a confession:
For me, poetry has become a bit of an obsession!
Now I find that, sometimes when I speak,
My sentences unintentionally rhyme! Eeek!
My poems total over three hundred in number;
Sometimes, composing them affects my slumber.
Of my poetry, I admit I feel really rather proud,
But I feel way too shy to read them out aloud.
Often, when I'm out walking, or I'm sat on a train,
Ideas will manifest themselves deep in my brain.
I often find myself spending quite some time,
Pondering the two factors of rhythm and rhyme.
My poems all rhyme: I don't write in ‘free verse':
In unrhymed poetry, myself, I just can't immerse.
To me, poetry which rhymes seems more precise:
It has a better finish, and it just sounds, well, nice!
At my poems online, people have been gazing,
But I would disagree that my work is ‘amazing'.
From all over the world, I am quite often sent
From fellow poets, some encouraging comments.
I have chosen some of my poems to put in a book;
My local bookshop is selling it! Please take a look!
I was thrilled when they agreed to sell it in-store;
They sold the entire first batch, and asked for more!
My dream job is to become a really famous writer;
I know it's a tough journey, but I'm a real fighter.
For sitting, writing poetry, I would love to get paid:
Maybe, if I keep plodding onwards, I will one day!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nothing Extraordinary Nothing Peculiar
i wake up early today
3 a.m.,
not for any call from
God
as though it has something
to do with the divine and
the miraculous,
telling me what to do
or his angels
for some reminders,
to be good, and kind
and compassionate,
there is nothing
extraordinary about
waking up early,
nothing peculiar really,
there is no rhyme
or even prose in this
unholy hour where
the other spirits
still roam claiming
this hour to be
still theirs rightfully,
sometimes i claim
this is pure work,
legal matters to be
finished and done
on time, or some
personal matters
to be written and
clarified, some journal
entries of my life,
for their reference when
i am gone
dead, to say the flat
word for departure,
but i think, to be honest
with you
(dear reader) i wake
up because some words
come inside my mind,
well, i admit, poems,
some more poems,
to my embarrassment
from my undisturbed friends
they ask, what have i to
do with these orphans?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Poems Are Poems Of The Light Of The Day
MY POEMS ARE POEMS OF THE LIGHT OF THE DAY
My poems are poems of the light of the day
The poems of the night are for others-
When the night comes
I hide and wait in silence
Until the day comes-
My poems are poems of the light of the day
And I dare not bring the poems of the night within them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Do the one thing you think you cannot do. Fail at it. Try again. Do better the second time. The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the high wire. This is your moment. Own it.
Oprah Winfrey in O, The Oprah Magazine (September 2003)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Repeated Poem...
there is a handsome young man
residing in a far away mountain
he writes love poems...
it so happens that there is this
lonely woman who reads each poem
and amazed by said poems
she climbs the mountain to see the
man and tell him that she
loves him too...
the man is puzzled and the woman asks why?
those poems are not
for her, he says
and the woman is sad
goes down the mountain telling herself
that the handsome young man is a liar
and that from that time on
she will never read any of his poems....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let's Leave The 'Poems' Without Metaphors
LET’S LEAVE THE ‘POEMS’ WITHOUT METAPHORS
Let’s leave the ‘poems’ without metaphors
Bare and stark and original
Quiet and sleeping and still
The soothing poems the calming poems
The poems that even in the middle of the night
Let us sleep.
Let’s leave the poems without metaphors
And go back to the simple words
And let them say all they can by themselves
Until they become metaphors too.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Mind To
Now I'm not talking tough, telling the truth ought to be enough
I've had my share on the darker side
Sitting and starring at a TV screen, racking my brain over all the things
If I'd just been there I could have tried
Things to do I can't help but think of more
I could fill my life wothout ever leaving home
I could see the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World
And even build a few more of my own (If I had a mind to)
Quit my job never mind the pay, maybe go figure out the CIA
Chase the paper and pass the bar, show Iacocca how to build a car
Jump up and run a three minute mile, sit around and watch my baby smile
That's what I might do , if I had a mind to
No, I don't wanna blow my horn, no telling how many souls I've worn
And what kind of shoes, when I had shoes
I'm still losing a bridge or two, but the troubled water's gonna run on
through
You can't always win, but you can always lose
But I don't turn my head for things that pass me by
And I'm gonna have a look around
I could gather all the diamonds in the sky
Hold every one and never leave the ground, If I had a mind to
Fly through the eye of a hurricane, freeze my body like David Blaine
Be the first to find life on Mars, go up and sell a few candy bars
Climb a rainbow and kiss the sun, walk on the moon when the day is done
That's what I might do, If I had a mind to
Somewhere someone's doing everything I've said
I don't have to do anything, I could do it in my head
If I had mind to
Sail away and be Jacques Cousteau, or the Crocodile hunter on a TV show
Be the king of the one night stand, front the Coral Reefer Band
Ski Colorado where there ain't no snow, plant a tree and watch it grow
That what I might do-ac
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
We Need Poems To Make Us Love Life More
WE NEED POEMS TO MAKE US LOVE LIFE MORE
We need poems to make us love life more
Poems that will make us happier
Poems that will make us kinder, better people.
We need poems that will inspire us
That will add to our sense of the world’s Beauty
We need Poems that will make us love others as we love ourselves as we love God.
We need holy poems
And joyful poems
And blessed poems
And kind poems
We need poems which will make us love life more
Which will help us love others and ourselves more
God more
We need poems.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh The Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS
Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –
What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?
I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-
Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-
Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-
Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!