Me
So many songs
And poems
You might
Have written
But you have forgotten
To write about me
As I am neither
Extraordinary
Or below
Ordinary
I am very common
Exceptionally normal
But I am in the middle
Very voluminous
And rotundly weighty
I can stop the blowing
Of the wind
And flowing
Of the river
I can bring down
The king
And massively
Mighty
The movement
Of anti- intellectuality
Started by me
When I believe equality
In democracy
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Extraordinary
You think that I go home at night
Take off my clothes, turn out the lights
But I burn letters that I write
To you, to make you love me
Yeah, I'd drive naked through the park
And run the stop sign in the dark
Stand in the street, yell out my heart
To you, to make you love me
I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
You may not believe in me
But I believe in you
So I still take the trash out
Does that make me too normal for you?
So dig a little deeper, cause
You still don't get it yet
See me lickin' my lips, need a primitive fix
And I'll make, I'll make you love me
I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
See me jump through hoops for you
You stand there watching me performing
What exactly do you do?
Have you ever thought it's you that's boring?
Who the hell are you?
I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Average every day sane psycho
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Chronicles of A New Day part 1 5 years from now
5 years from now forgotten
maybe after so much time
out of the cage out of the pen
no longer trapped by word and rhyme
childish infatuations all but forgotten all gone away
no more saying this day how fey!
only today
here we... w...
at this time i ask how
could i get to this here and now where memories fade
where debts are paid
love songs forgotten away with the wind
now blowing blowing forgotten feeling blowing farther
is this my future?
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Perhaps My Poems Have Already Been Written
PERHAPS MY POEMS HAVE ALREADY BEEN WRITTEN
Perhaps my poems have already been written
Perhaps it is all now senseless repetition
Perhaps I should just stop
And go on if I can to some other form of writing
God gives us what we have
We strive to go beyond ourselves
We can to a certain point
But then we have done what we have done
We can live a million years more
And write a million more poems
But what we have to write
Is done
Perhaps my poems have already been written
And small and poor and awkward as they are
Less than the truest poetry
They are what I have and am
Good-bye myself
I cannot go home.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dont Stop
The clock is ticking, and Im here wishing
This new found love will find no end
Dont wanna feel, another feeling
Dont wanna know what time will send
I wanna stop, the earth from turning,
The rain from falling,
The wind from blowing
But dont stop (stop), the love from growing, keep that river flowing
We can find a way
Dont stop (stop), the love from showing
I dont want tomorrow, just give me today
Dont stop (stop), stop the hands of time
Hold back the time
And make forever, the same as the moment I felt your love
Youve touched my heart
Erase the pain, the memories, and mistakes I made
Stop, the earth from turning, the rain from falling, the wind from blowing
But dont stop (stop), the love from growing, keep that river flowing
We can find a way
Dont stop (stop), the love from showing
I dont want tomorrow, just give me today
Dont stop (stop), the flame from burning
Stop tomorrows hurting, from seeing the light
Dont stop (stop), my heart from beating
Keep the time from fleeting, into the night
Cant think about tomorrows fears, cause today is here to stay
Clear away all of yesterdays tears, theres nothing to block our way
Stop, the earth from turning, the rain from falling, the wind from blowing, the sun from shining
Cant find the reason, another season
Could never match a love so pleasin
Dont let it go, no, no, no, no, no
Dont stop (stop), the love from growing, keep that river flowing
We can find a way
Dont stop (stop), the love from showing
I dont want tomorrow, just give me today
Dont stop (stop), the flame from burning
Stop tomorrows hurting, from seeing the light
Dont stop (stop)
My heart from beating, keep the time from fleeting, into the night
Dont stop (stop), the love from growing, keep that river flowing
We can find a way
Dont stop (stop), the love from showing
I dont want tomorrow, just give me today
Dont stop the love, stop the time, another day, to keep you mine
Dont stop the love, stop the time, another, to keep you mine
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Song Unsung
So many people have sung so many songs
But they have not sung the song of You,
They are all unfortunate deaf and dumb
They have all forgotten about You
You are the song unsung
The intellectuality- the perfect beauty-
That is one thing men have achieved throughout history.
Oh! the creator of the song
I pray to thee-
To open their mind so wide
That the cosmos can not hold.
Make their heart so deep
That the measure can not fathom it.
Raise their standard so high
That the standard stands meaningless.
Make their voice so loud
That the eternal silence broken,
And even then deaf and dump can listen,
Make their voice so sweet
So that when they sing the song of you
Along with stones they will all start crying.
Oh! the creator of the song
I pray to thee
To mingle me with you,
The most eternal, the most exceptional,
So tight that the separation is impossible for me.
If they try to separate the song and the singer
Make all the things dust
Make the events of future for ever the events of past.
If they try to bring down the poet and the poem
Make all the things a ball of fire
And for ever, stop the motion of the gyre
To bring down the final destruction,
By starting the shrinking and stopping the expansion.
Oh! the creator of the poem
I pray to thee
The perfect
The beauty
The truth, the absolute.
Make me
Like you.
And make them too!
So that we can write of you.
The greatest song
The song of the universe.
The perfect immortality of intellectuality.
_________________________ _______________
______________________________ _________
The song itself is about intellectuality,
and the intellectuality is the perfect beauty,
the creator of intellectuality can not be imperfect,
Can He? the three terms 'intellectuality-the perfect beauty and god ' are not separated, they are mingled in one,
and the poet wants to mingle with Him along with other bards.
_______________________________________ ____
_________________________________________ _
And there is no image created in the poem as it is a post-modern poem.
_____________________________________________ __________
___________________________________ _____________________
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Democracy and socialism have nothing in common but one word, equality. But notice the difference while democracy seeks equality in liberty, socialism seeks equality in restraint and servitude.
quote by Alexis de Tocqueville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Democracy and socialism have nothing in common but one word, equality. But notice the difference: while democracy seeks equality in liberty, socialism seeks equality in restraint and servitude.
quote by Alexis de Tocqueville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On The Shore Of Nila (bharatha Puzha)
This is river is laughing,
with the thousands of jingles;
the river and bay tied each other,
but no one seen it;
she is flowing as a princess
the wet wind of river, is
passing through the greenly rocks;
please smile once more,
Oh! My dear river Nila
my love on you, is not gone;
the wind blowing slowly;
this steps in the shore;
Is taken to my youth,
O! My dear, please smile once more
in this shiny moonlight,
cool wind touched the river
of she is searching her lover
poem by I.p. Gopikrishnan Pisharody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Streams Of Whiskey
Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of lifes philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that Ive a pile
Ill go down to the chelsea
Ill walk in on my feet
But Ill leave there on my back
Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
Theres nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
Ill walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer
Iam going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Of All The Poems I Have Written And Forgotten
OF ALL THE POEMS I HAVE WRITTEN AND FORGOTTEN
Of all the poems written and forgotten
Are there any worthy of remembrance?
I go on losing my poems as I make more of them-
The same old story
The future calls
And the past is forgotten
And all futures
Become past.
When will I learn to remember
My own work?
To cherish it
As I do that of others?
Line after line
Racing into the distance
Of a never- to- be – known
And forever forgotten
Unreality.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Need New Poems
WE NEED NEW POEMS
We need new Poems-
So many great Poems
Have already been written.
Perhaps the Greatest poems
Have already been written.
But we need new poems.
We need our Poems
We need the poems only we can write
We need the poems we must write.
We need new poems
My poems
Your poems
Our poems.
We need new poems.
Let us write them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The History Poems Have Not Been Written
The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where Am I? I Am In The Middle Of An Idea.
i am in the middle of an idea.
it is like a river always flowing.
at the top are blessings like rain
on a clear bright day, and on the
ground are glistening dews,
like diamonds. On the right side
are trees filled with ripe fruits,
and below them are bushes
filled with yellow flowers. On the
left side of this river, are stones,
and cliffs, and crevices, and
at the height of all these silence,
is the call of the west wind.
There is a confusion somewhere.
But there is also a certainty like
the brightness of the sun. I am torn
between these two choices.
I am in the middle of this idea.
Like a river, i continue flowing.
Like the driftwood, i no longer care.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
some African red-knobbed coots rose in a screaming row,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
and the twilight only lasted moments
while they flew past with slapping wings,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I felt a light breeze blowing against my cheek,
there was serenity and peace that came to me
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire,
there was a kind of bliss in nature
when dappled Egyptian goose also tried to avoid me,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I was caught by the sheer beauty,
I heard the call of birds cutting through the reeds,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
while the sky was darker and no more azure,
while ducks glide magically through the water,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
the sun hanged over the water red like fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Help Me If You Can (Fun Poem 60)
It all started in October
when I had a series of mini strokes.
Ever since then my brain
has run amok.
At first there seem
nothing had effected me.
Now I see something did happen,
someone has left the tap on
deep inside my head
and the words and poems
just keep pouring out
each and everyday.
Since October 329, written
and they are coming more and more.
Can someone please help me
to turn that damn tap off?
Everywhere I go and everything I see
suggest another poem
that has to be written down.
At the rate, I’m going
no one will be able to read
everything I write.
So please someone help me
to turn this damn tap off tonight.
Every now and then,
we get on a roll
and the poems keep
popping out of our head.
My problem is this roll I’m on
has been rolling for months
and each day it increases
in its velocity.
First, it was two or three,
and then it went up to four,
now it’s up to seven or more a day.
So please, please help me
to turn this damn tap off
or at least repair it to a normal state.
4 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Don't Stop
the clock is ticking
and I'm here wishing
this new found love will find no end
don't wanna feel
another feeling
don't wanna know what time will send
I wanna stop
the earth from turning
the rain from falling
the wind from blowing
but don't stop (stop)
the love from growing
keep that river flowing
we can find a way
don't stop (stop)
this love from showing
I don't want tomorrow
just give jme today
don't stop (stop) stop the hands of time
hold back the time
and make forever
the same as the moment I felt your love
you've touched my heart
erased the pain
song performed by by Gloria Estefan from Gloria!
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Can Only Write Like Me
Poet Poe, though 'Raven' mad
His work could all excite
Forever, I'd be mighty glad
If I could Poe-like write
I'd love to write like Shakespeare
With nothing 'much ado'
But, Bard-William, have no fear
I could never write like you
Cole Porter, clever word-king
Your songs are all the rage
My words, though to my liking
Your reign I can't up-stage
The opera Boris Godunov
Has great linguistic string
My lyrics aren't good enough
To have written such a thing
Those writers cut me down to size
It's true, unfortunately
Since I don't care to plagiarize
I can only write like me
poem by Stanley Cooper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Timeless Songs
I wish to write more timeless songs
that have the power to wake the moon
and draw her from the skies;
that have the strength to stir the stars,
unveil their evening sparks.
I wish to write more timeless songs
that have the courage to stop the sea
from singing lullaby's;
that have the strength to stir the wind,
unveil her sweet disguise.
I wish to write more timeless songs
to bring me back to you;
to give me strength to stir my soul,
and make my dreams come true.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The king is extraordinary.
Honour is made for human functions.
A monarch is not extraordinary;
The ordinary people make him so.
Unless he is made extraordinary
He could not rule the ordinary ones.
The extraordinary must respect
The demand of the honour bestowed
On him by the ordinary people,
And must act to be extraordinary.
Masters must honour the headmaster,
Who must respect the demand of honour
Expected of him by other masters,
Failing which he will lose his status.
26.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poem Of Shabbat Morning Is Gone
THE POEM OF SHABBAT MORNING IS GONE
The poem of Shabbat morning is gone-
Forgotten forever
As if it never was.
It came to me
And I could not write it down
And now it is gone.
The world is filled with poems which are lost
And never written down
Great works and great mysteries
Never to really be.
In all those billions of unrecorded lives
That went before us on this earth
There were many many poems lost.
I write this down now
as compensation-
How many poorer poems
have replaced
the true poems
that were once
and never are to be?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!