Bigger Poet
Religion cosmos divine truth revelation
God hell heaven and incarnation are
the big things small poets take on
The bigger is the poet smaller is the thing
charms magnificence tit bit and wonder
He writes on, the very common with
mighty observation, gives a model figure
on his speech: how daily the spoon steals
his dish, the rose in the heart with thorns
makes him bleed, delight hides behind
views just he needs to seek the point
here, he kills the cliché.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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God's Poets, Love & A Good Poem
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
EVERY OTHER NIGHT
If it was left to me and my desire
I would seek satisfaction every other night.
I would enjoy your divine, God given love
And hold you forever close and tight.
Every other night would be Heavenly for me
Though I must respect and honor what you do and say.
My need for you is far greater than your need for me
As I patiently wait for our time of play.
I will always remain watchful, loving and caring
Not to hurt, destroy, mistrust, dissatisfy or offend.
Out of all God's blessings from Heaven to Earth
You're my greatest treasure, passion and friend.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom's 465 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
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Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/
Letter To A Young Poet Revised
Letter to a young Poet
Dear Raman, so you want me to read your poem and state my opinion.
Well, you are fond of words and you are stacking them up in your poem.
That is a good thing; clearly you are a man who reads a lot.
So you want to be a poet, poetry is self indulgent pass time it doesn’t
change anything, no one reads it, other than cranky people. Should
a poet writes something nationalistic that resonance with, a nation’s
pride, like: “my country is the best in the world.” He will get a medal.
So why don’t you become an engineer or failing that, a cook. The world
doesn’t need, anymore academic poets who forever repeat what poets
of yore have said. For the common man a poet is regarded as a figure of
fun who spends valuable time putting useless words together to make
sense of a world he doesn’t understand. As my father said, when my first
poem was published: “How much did they pay you? ” If my words have
not scared you off, you’re a poet. The only tool you’ll need is honesty.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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God's Poets A Good Poem & Love
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Fairy..
To my right and to my left,
There is a divine which never gets upset.
From sun rise to sun set,
She cannot live without having with me chat.
She always try to hide me from evil,
There is not any thing greater than her level.
She is a teacher; she is a motivator,
She is my life's first and last ladder,
And how she makes me gathered.
For me............
Why she makes those things,
Why she often sings.
I could never know why; why my fairy do these things,
It is like to find the starting point in the ring.
How she does these things?
There is not any thing which can explain her emmence attraction's link.
Now,
I am not considering her a part of my life,
I am also considering her that she is not my type.
Thats my mistake..............
How can i forgot that when I am a child,
How she never ate food when I am hungry; how she waits me even in a long mild.
These are the things which makes her a Fairy Without Wings,
And she made my life complete unless it remains useless like a thing.
I often things...............
What will happens when she went.
Then i thought that her life is like a rose,
Which gives all her precious proses,
But never grant rent.
And when it falls,
The mighty land absorbs it and in this way her life rolls.
Hey, God, what, i ask what is in my fairy,
And how only she can complete my life's diary.
The divine from god is fairy and she is purely sweet like cherry.
The god cannot come on the earth,
So they sent a fairy which loves his child all her life,
And our duty is to worship her all our life..........
poem by Prateek Khard
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A Message Here For All You Poets
The love poet writes of lovely things like true love and flowers in bloom
And the roses in the poet's garden scent of a sweet perfume
And the gentle hearted applaud him saying what a marvellous poet
He surely is a child of God and one worthy of note.
The love poet writes of love of God and the God fearing say
He's a fine poet one of the best love and respect to God he pay
He hear no evil speak no evil only write of God and love
And there's a place reserved for him in God's Kingdom up above.
The social issues poet writes of the poor and few his verses read
They say he writes such morbid stuff sob stories we do not need
He keeps highlighting the downtrodden and those in poverty
He ought to put more trust in God and in Humanity.
A message here for all you poets don't write of the downtrod
But write of affairs of your heart and write of your love of God
And some will say how great you are and your praises they will sing
And they will pay respect to you and call you their Poetic Queen or King.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Why Roses Have Thorns
Of all the flowers I've ever seen,
The lovely rose holds the most mystery.
Almost queenly in majestic beauty,
A thing of perfected artistry.
It comes in so many varied colors,
Its fragrance unique among all flowers,
A floral gem you'd enjoy for hours,
An exquisite rose is the flower of lovers.
But like a lady of wondrous charm,
Such beauty can cause a little harm.
The rose has thorns that make one bleed,
And hurts the hand that crushes it.
Some women like the rose have thorns,
When in their hearts true love is born.
The love you pledge do not forfeit-
A woman can bleed your heart....
and
crush it.
Copyright 2008 - Cynthia B. Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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A Question
O bird with heart of wassail,
That toss the Bacchic branch,
And slip your shaken music,
An elfin avalanche;
Come tell me, O tell me,
My poet of the blue!
What's YOUR thought of me, Sweet?--
Here's MY thought of you.
A small thing, a wee thing,
A brown fleck of nought;
With winging and singing
That who could have thought?
A small thing, a wee thing,
A brown amaze withal,
That fly a pitch more azure
Because you're so small.
Bird, I'm a small thing--
My angel descries;
With winging and singing
That who could surmise?
Ah, small things, ah, wee things,
Are the poets all,
Whose tour's the more azure
Because they're so small.
The angels hang watching
The tiny men-things:-
'The dear speck of flesh, see,
With such daring wings!
'Come, tell us, O tell us,
Thou strange mortality!
What's THY thought of us, Dear?--
Here's OUR thought of thee.'
'Alack! you tall angels,
I can't think so high!
I can't think what it feels like
Not to be I.'
Come tell me, O tell me,
My poet of the blue!
What's YOUR thought of me, Sweet?--
Here's MY thought of you.
poem by Francis Thompson
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Truth For All
There is a Truth for all to behold, a need that never grows old,
One sound Truth under the sun, to be addressed by everyone,
A Truth that’s meant for all, isn’t embraced because of the fall.
As Satan darkens the heart, from this Truth, many men depart.
This Truth crosses party lines, and is to be shared at all times,
A truth not limited to a season, or dismissed by man’s reason,
It is one Truth bound in grace, and available to all in any place,
Truth from the Eternal King, which on earth impacts everything.
The Truth that I’m speaking of, is God’s Truth from God above,
It is The Revelation from God, sent to all upon this earthly sod,
Truth which transcends the earth, leading men to Eternal Worth,
God’s Eternal Truth to each nation, sent to all in His Revelation.
His Truth surpasses political views, providing to all Good News,
Tidings, sent through Jesus Christ, by God, to every human life,
Not for the righteous you know, as their religion’s only for show,
But, it’s for that repentant heart, who in Christ wants a new start.
Not for those dark and depraved, who see no need to be saved,
And being so spiritually deceived, God’s Truth is never received,
But, His Truth, for all who heed, supplies us with our every need,
Believing souls, like you and me, along with a New Life eternally.
(Copyright ©10/2008)
To Be With You In Heaven
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
You can shoot me down
You can drag me round
Girl Ill get you
It wont be long
You can smash my heart
You can trash our love
But my desire for you is much too strong
To be with in heaven
I would go through the darkest hell
In heaven
Theres no cure for love that kills
You can waste my time
But you cant change my mind
I wont stop you
So just go on
You can play your games
But its all in vain
Cause my desire for you is much too strong
To be with in heaven
I would go through the darkest hell
In heaven
Theres no cure for love that kills
To be with in heaven
I would go through the darkest hell
In heaven
Theres no cure for love that kills
Girl Im on fire
Heaven seems so close tonight
Girl I would die for your love
You can shoot me down
You can drag me round
Girl Ill get you
It wont be long
You can smash my heart
You can trash our love
But my desire for you is much too strong
To be with in heaven
I would go through the darkest hell
In heaven
Theres no cure for love that kills
To be with in heaven
I would go through the darkest hell
In heaven
Theres no cure for love that kills
To be with in heaven
I would go through the darkest hell
In heaven
Theres no cure for love that kills
...
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pondering upon the Rose on a Sunday Morning......
The symbol of love
When giving in love a rose speaks for itself
The beauty is picturesque
The scent it gives lasting for ever
The rose never seen without her thorns
Still who can not feel happiness when a rose is seen or given?
Even for a brief minute, a second the rose brings a smile
Or perhaps a small sigh of delight
If one were to think upon a rose…
The thorns… the beauty…
The petals that carry the essence…
That lingers even after it is withered
If one were compare to our Lord…
He held thorns upon his precious head; the head of the rose is above the thorns
His love was known for its beauty and compassion, the rose noted for love
His words and Spirit lingers for eternity much like the scent of the rose
My Lord created the Rose
Perhaps he created it for remembrance of His son
Looking upon the rose I see it all so clearly
The meaning of love
The beauty
An essence that shall always be with me
poem by Patricia Gale
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Christmas turns everything upside down. This is the central truth of the incarnation — "Immanuel, God with us." The upside of heaven come down to earth. "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, . . . full of grace and truth." Men miss the entire meaning of Jesus when they see in him the highest upreach of man; he is God reaching down and making common cause with man's struggle. The meaning of Christmas puts down the mighty things in men's minds from their seats — place, riches, talents — and exalts the things of low degree — humility, simplicity, and trust.
quote by Halford E. Luccock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Universe Writes A Poem
The universe is a poet.
She looked at him
with a forgiving smile.
How would you know that?
Well, the credo flows
from the unity
of the knower and the known,
he said.
Besides,
symmetry involves reciprocity.
And the holographic qualities
of the cosmos imply
that just as the poet
is part of the universe,
the universe is part
of the poet, too.
So, when a poet writes a poem
the universe writes its own.
poem by Paul Hartal
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White Rose
WHITE ROSE
On Palmach Street a suddenly seen
White rose pierces my heart
As in Rilke’s angels’ dream-
What does it mean?
This beautiful day after the rain
The wind as the world’s Breath-
Blake’s sick rose’s death-
What does it mean?
To find in worlds of things words
Which hint at some other Beauty hidden elsewhere-
What does it mean?
God is here-
‘But what must Heaven be, ’
Emily from her small room in Amherst asks,
‘When God is somewhere else? ’
Poets ask
And poets dream
What does Poetry mean?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXV: Common Thing
It’s not a kindness of heart
It’s not strong solidarity
It’s just a common thing
It’s not local wisdom
It’s not old tradition
It’s just a common thing
It’s not call of duty
It’s not sense of right
It’s just a common thing
It’s not formal greeting
It’s not automatic response
It’s just a common thing
It’s not a matter of guessing
It’s not a part of instinct
It’s just a common thing
It’s not natural reaction
It’s not act of compassion
It’s just a common thing
It’s not regular news
It’s not lack of awareness
It’s just a common thing
It’s not general knowledge
It’s not piece of memory
It’s just a common thing
It’s not statistic range
It’s not operational standard
It’s just a common thing
It’s not moral excuses
It’s not people ignorance
It’s just a common thing
It’s not public secret
It’s not rhetoric question
It’s just a common thing
It’s not different mindset
It’s not basic solution
It’s just a common thing
It’s not absolute law
It’s not blind obedience
It’s just a common thing
It’s not sweet revenge
It’s not getting even
It’s just a common thing
It’s not constant worry
It’s not planted fear
It’s just a common thing
It’s not usual bickering
It’s not daily fight
It’s just a common thing
It’s not die hard habit
It’s not strange behavior
It’s just a common thing
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Writes Of Poems And Poets And Poetry
THE POET WRITES OF POEMS AND POETS AND POETRY
The poet writes of poems and poets and poetry,
And the world goes by
And nothing is done.
And the sky- the sky.
Is it still above?
And Love and Kindness
Are they still deep in us,
Words or not?
Without Poetry the world does not exist for the poet-
But for others,
Dreams have other names,
And Music plays on,
And singing and laughter
Go on as the Beauty of Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Szymborska 's Yearns
'Poets yearn, of course, to be published, read, and understood, but they do little, if anything, to set themselves above the common herd and the daily grind.'
i do not have
the wish anymore
to be understood
by you or anybody
i belong to the
common things
you cannot see
me in the herd
i am in my
daily endeavors
unknown to you
i still write without
any wish that you
recognize my
voice or feel the
longings of my
hands or see the
scars in my heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Rose Is You
there is a rose
in my heart
and it has so
many thorns
i bleed and i look
at the mirror
so beautifully
the bleeding goes on and on
years and years
how can the thorns be so hurting?
it is the rose that matters
and it is you...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smaller & Smaller
Drought makes the workers dream
Muscles and fields of green
Shovel the last few crumbs
Of generosity
Open hearts, open mind, open mouth, open vein
Drain
Someday the rains will come
My blistered hands tell me
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
Bite
Bite
Bite
Cry
Ill keep coming back
Smaller and smaller and smaller
Squash me
Smaller and smaller and smaller
Under the charity
Smaller and smaller and smaller
Under the topsoil
Smaller and smaller and smaller
Under the fingernail
Smaller and smaller and smaller
Then small becomes all becomes all..........
Bite
Bite
Bite
Cry
Its not a mirage
Its not a mirage
Trickling downward, trickling downward
Its not a mirage
Drain
Drain
Bite
Bite
Bite
Cry
Smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller..........
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smaller And Smaller
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
(p) Faith No More
< Mike Bordin: Drums; Roddy Bottum: Keyboards;
Billy Gould: Bass Guitar; Jim Martin: Guitar;
Mike Patton: Vocals >
( Angel Dust [Slash Records, 1992] )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drought makes the workers dream
Muscles and fields of green
Shovel the last few crumbs
Of generosity
Open heart, open mind, open mouth, open vein
DRAIN
Someday the rains will come
My blistered hands tell me
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow
BITE
BITE
BITE
CRY
I'll keep coming back
smaller and smaller and smaller
squash me
smaller and smaller and smaller
under the charity
smaller and smaller and smaller
under the topsoil
smaller and smaller and smaller
under the fingernail
smaller and smaller and smaller
then small becomes all becomes all.......
BITE
BITE
BITE
CRY
It's not a mirage
It's not a mirage
trickling downward, trickling downward
It's not a mirage
DRAIN
DRAIN
BITE
BITE
BITE
CRY
smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller.......
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rose Bouquet
Behold the precious rose bouquet,
A circle formed by love
And placed with pride and on display
That mere words aren't enough,
To share the thrill, the joy within,
The spectacle in sight,
That surely makes us smile and grin
With unrestrained delight!
Oh, lucky soul that loves the rose,
Its fragrance quite divine,
Such that the poets turn to prose
With compliments each line...
And praise the details one-by-one,
The curling petals spread,
The blossoms reaching for the sun
As to God's light they're led...
Behold the fragile nature here,
A gentle passing thing
And yet this truth stays crystal clear
And leaves us wondering...
Let roses blossom far and wide,
As many as are given,
For all good things are God-supplied
Both here on Earth and Heaven...
The rose was fashioned long ago
With colours old and new
And gardeners truly loved it so,
They did all they could do...
To think, such beauty transcends time,
In gardens young and old...
Each rose bouquet is quite sublime...
Resplendent to behold...
Denis Martindale, copyright, Easter Sunday,2012.
The poem is based on the ceramic sculpture artwork by
Suzy Cooper called Rose Bouquet, shown on bid.tv this
evening here in the UK. The Shopping Channel brings us
many examples of fine art and these add to the beauty
of our homes as the years go by.
(Brompton and Cooper Musical Teacup)
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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