Plagiarist
Plagiarist
I stand at the corner
of the grave yard
Under the cover
of the pitch dark
Wait like a vulture
For the opportunity of
People's going out,
I covertly take out
The organs of good taste
From the dead body
And start to build
A new body
A new poem
I continue to steal
The flesh
The bone
The blood
The skin
And sew them
Till it becomes beautiful
And ready to publish
I am neither an employee
Of the necropsy
Nor a florist,
Not even an artist.
I am only a plagiarist.
The poem becomes mine.
Though the soul of it
Is of another poet
Which I never acknowledge
Or express regret.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Goona Copy
I’m surely gonna copy,
Be it poem, DVD or floppy,
And win Nobel Prize and trophy.
I will copy poets all
Whether they are big or small
Ya! No one can make me stop
Till I scale a fame’s highest top.
At the beginning of age
When God made men in his own image
He started this “Plagiarist” trend
Which I am not gonna end.
And what is creativity?
If not an ability to hide
a source of theft
with impunity.
When there is nothing
original under the sun,
Why should I copy not
and deprive myself of fun.
So I’ll copy them word by word
be they Pablo, Shakespeare or Wordsworth.
I’ll copy them from morn to evening
And would excel HITESH and Kipling.
Can you prove, they were not plagiarist,
And had not copy from some poet’s list.
You can inform FBI, KGB or CIA,
But I won’t stop my wanton ways.
And I will copy without shame,
Till I earn big name and fame.
I will copy till people start copying me,
And then and then only I will
give up this vice with glee.: -)
(This poem is a sequel to poem, “hay all you people that like to copy” written by Melissa Schreuder)
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
19/05/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Organ Donation
If you’re brain-dead by accidents:
Your eyes can continue to see
By being placed in one who needs,
And live for another life-time!
Your heart can continue to beat
In one who needs a living pump
To circulate the blood around!
Your kidneys both can excrete wastes
In persons two with uraemia,
And help them live for some more years!
Your liver transplanted in one
With alcoholic cirrhosis
Can help him live for some more weeks!
Your pancreas, lungs, intestines,
Bone, bone-marrow and entire skin
Can be help to keep fifty alive!
Donate your other organs too
To ones in dire need of them,
And make your corpse to help men live!
So, gift your body parts to ones
Who seem to be in verge of death
And help continue to breathe!
Donate your organs; help men live!
You can serve God and man though dead!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-5-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Singular Indestructible Droid
Blood of my blood
Skin of my skin
A normal human being
Solder and wires
Circuitry
We're far from human beings
He's sick of his skin
It's time to trade it in
A galaxy of emotions
Your soul is what it costs
We walk the same path
No body could get in our way
Dangerously
We passionately never hesitate
Keep the soul
That's control
Now you put in the metal
Biological
Spiritual
Electrical
Digital
S.I.D.
Willing to make the change
Surrender the flesh and bones
Against the grain
Pushing beyond the limits of ourselves
This body is just a cage
You're dead and you're in a grave
We're losing our minds
That's just fine
Living forever
Bleed out my blood
Skin off my skin
Solder the wire
Transformation
Take my body and
Release me from this cage
You can't put a spirit in a grave
Singular Indestructible Droid
Bloody-human-robot
song performed by by Papa Roach from Lovehatetragedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again
THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’
‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?
Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’
The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The POET from the POEM
That lady -
whose eyes can see no ordinary eyes can see,
and desolate winds crying for her name
till truth and lies are all the same;
who knows how she ate the stars at night,
yet left the old moon sleeping in the sky?
Certainly she married that awful death
only not to die.
Out of her hands there came blood,
till blood covered her flesh.
And the blood had life...had sweeter life
till blood became her flesh.
How can you know the poet from the poem,
or sift the melody from its song?
Judge me, for I'll say
that lady -
is the poet and he being the blood, her poem.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Not Read! ! !
Don't read this poem!
Turn back while you have the chance
Or you will regret it
This poem is a poem of darkness
This poem is a devourer of souls
It will destroy you
Consume you
Absorb you into its black depths
I tried to warn you
I told you not to read it
Why are you still reading?
If I had named it 'READ THIS POEM! ! ! '
Would you have even bothered?
This poem is pulling you in
It has your feet
It's eating you
It's shattering your soul
It's never going to let you go
It's murdering you
This poem is a murderer
It is a criminal, it is evil
It is unnameable, unbreakable, imperfect
This poem has you
It's too late for you now
There's no escape for you now
Too bad
This poem has you
This poem's devoured you
Yummm, good
This poem is satisfied now
You should have listened to me
But you didn't
And now the poem's taken you
You're dead.
The plagiarist turns the body inside-out and changes the bones.
Reasons To Be Beautiful
Love hangs herself
With the bedsheets in her cell
Threw myself on fires for you
10 good reasons to stay alive
10 good reasons that I cant find
Oh, give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Oh, give me one reason to be beautiful
Oh, and everything I am
Love hates you
I live my life in ruins for you
And for all your secrets kept
I squashed the blossom and the blossoms dead
Oh, give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Oh, and I will make myself so beautiful
Oh, and everything I am
Miles and miles of perfect skin
I swear I do, I fit right in
My love burns through everything
I cannot breathe
Miles and miles of perfect sin
I swear, I said, I fit right in
I fit right in your perfect skin
I cannot breathe
Hey, baby, take it all the way...down
Hey, baby, taste me anyway
Oh, you were born
So pretty oh summerbabe
Well never know...
And fading like a rose
Give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Ill give you my body, just sell me your soul
Oh, and everything I am will be bought and sold
Oh, and everything I am will turn hard and cold
And they say in the end
Youll get bitter just like them
And they steal your heart away
When the fire goes out you better learn to fake
Its better to rise than fade away...
Hey you were right
Named a star for your eyes
Did you freeze did you weep
Turn to gold, baby, sleep
Hey honey mine
I was there all the time
And I weep at your feet
And it rains and rains
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You are the poet
Poet is a journalist
Watches the feelings
Watches the emotions
Watches the world
Watches the light and
Watches the dark
He thinks everywhere
Others can’t imagine
-o-
Chasing the thoughts
Searching the words
Forming the sentences
To give the expression
To put the life in it
-o-
Poet is like a cook
Collecting good ingredients
Cooking the feelings to
Present in better way
-o-
Poet is like a soldier
Fighting in the war and
Fighting with the self
Feeling the pain and
Bleeding the emotions
Making room for self
To express the story
To save the people
-o-
Poet is like mother
Cooking the soft food
Feeding smoothly
Treating the readers like his own kids
Reader’s happiness is poet’s happiness
If you can’t praise, no problem
But don’t forget to acknowledge
-o-
Poet is the center of universe
Editors, Music directors,
Composers, singers, musicians,
Media everybody is rotating around
-o-
Poet writes to quench intellectuals
Poet writes to entertain good listeners
Poet writes to move hearts
Poet writes for a cause
Poet write for entertainment
Poets write to express themselves
Poets write to share their feelings
-o-
When time is running
Poem is the history
In present it reflects the story
Poem gives the hope in future
-o-
Poet is the planter
Plants seeds into your hearts
Make sure that it sprouts
Brings the thoughts into actions
-o-
Poet is the director behind your actions
Poet is the motivator behind your feelings
Poet is the coach who puts you on track
Poet is person whom your heart likes
-o-
Poet is the soldier when he uses poem as bullet
Poet is the coach when his poem moves your heart
Poet is the love, when he gives poem as flower
Poet is the parent, when he consoles you in your troubles
Poet is the healer who heals souls
Poet enters different roles
To justify the poem and to justify the people
-o-
Poem is the form of literature
We can find in holy books
Poem is the feelings
Poem touches the hearts
-o-
Sun can be seen in day
Moon can be seen in night
But poem is there day and night
Poem is powerful than nature
Poem don’t have life and death
Just it flows from heart to heart
Poet is the instrument
In the hands of the poem
-o-
If you drink a cup of alcohol
It may stay there just for hours
If you read a good poem
Nobody knows how long it gives the kick
-o-
When you have time, read a good poem
When you have time, write some poetry
When you have time, share a poem
-o-
You will be the poet, when you read a poem
You will be the poet, when you put on paper
You can be the poet to change your self
You can be the poet to change the world
You must be a poet, to enjoy this life
Waiting for you, to listen to your poem
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's a poem thing
A poem is a thing to express your feelings,
A poem is a thing to express your rageing...
A poem is a thing to express your sadness,
A poem is a thing to express your madness...
A poem is a thing to express your heart,
A poem is a thing to express your art...
A poem is a thing to express your real self,
A poem is a thing to express your necessities that are more than art...
A poem is a thing to know,
A poem it a thing we all should and could know...
This is what a poem thing should show...
poem by Alexandra Greif
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem About The Poem
The poem about the poem
And what is a poem?
And what is a poet?
And will the poem
Save me?
Help you?
And is writing the poem
The best I can do?
Or is it only words and more words?
Is the poem about the poem
For the poet only?
Or for each one reading and speaking and hearing it?
The poem about the poem
On this sunny spring Jerusalem morning
Peace and happiness in me -
The poem about the poem
For now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burial
Mine is a body that should die at sea!
And have for a grave, instead of a grave
Six feet deep and the length of me,
All the water that is under the wave!
And terrible fishes to seize my flesh,
Such as a living man might fear,
And eat me while I am firm and fresh,—
Not wait till I've been dead for a year!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet vs Poem
Does a poet makes poem
Or poem makes poet?
The eternal war goes on.
The big confusion who will solve it?
Poet fight with sword of pen.
Poem armoured with shield of senses.
Poet tries to rich sky high,
Poem pulls rope of meaning and tenses.
Does poet sketc the poem
Or poem drags him through the invigible gravity.
A piece of paper becomes battlefield.
The war of ink and vocabulary,
Creates a historic beauty.
Poet cages the poem in a book.
Where the world will look.
Praises all to poet 'oh how great'
But the poem is what counts after his death.
poem by Saurav Karki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dialogue With A Poet
Are you a poet?
Yes, I am a poet
How do you know that
I have composed a poem
You are a poet
when you compose
But right now?
I shall compose oneday again
You are a poet
the moment you compose
after that?
are you sure that
second one will also
be a poem
If second one is like first one
that is not a poem.
You must know a poem
can be a poem only once
What is a good poem
you never know.
To compose a good poem
you need a situation
or a context
that can not be repeated.
So you are not a poet
You will never be a poet.
poem by Devil Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Abstience
I am sorry
For loving myself
I am sorry
For the respect I have for myself
I am sorry
For keeping myself till marriage
But you don’t love me and you don’t respect
So why must i give body away to you
So you can break my heart after you get what you want from me
I will admit that was sold by your charm
But your charm don’t worth anything like my body
My body is mine
Just as your body is yours
So what ever you choose to do with your body that’s your problem
But I know in the life to come you will always remember me
So let’s not do something we’ll regret
Instead let’s respect our bodies
And wait till marriage
So at time there will be no regret
And there will lots of love
poem by Raven Mohammed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem and her poet!
Poem is a dead body now,
Dragging and pulling by foxes,
Rotting in the dustbin of reality,
Now a days poem has been lifeless.
Poet has been a great cemetery,
Funeral pyre is burning in his heart,
Lot of words are burning there,
Unpenned poems are flying as ash.
The poem and his poet,
Has been a fairy tale today,
Has been a black and white photo in the frame.
poem by Kafil Uddin Raihan.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!