Giving A Poem Away

A person asked if they can use my comment/poem.
I said sure without even asking why.
Giving a poem away, that put things in a different perspective for me.
I didn't even title it yet or edit it so I see no harm.
I told them to give her a name, and fix her mistakes.
Full consent has been given with a signature signed.
I doubt they'll use it for profit anyways nor do I really care.
For I'm not in it for the money.
Not that their much money to be made in writing anyways at least from what I understand.
So I hope it serves a good purpose whatever that maybe.

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The Second Day of Class

This sylph came forward
from the second row
the second day of class
and asked if
I would edit her poem
so it would read
the way it should.

I told her straightaway
that even though
this was writing class
and I was the instructor,
I couldn't edit her poem
and still have the poem be hers.

Editing her poem, I said,
would be a little like rape,
just painful in a different way
whether she understood that
yet or not.

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Poem After Poem After Poem

POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM

Poem after poem after poem
But a poem is not the way out.
Money is depleting
Soon I’ll be without.

How will I manage to live then
What will become of us all?
To write a poem is to do nothing
When the writing is on the wall.

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To the one who stole my poem

I had this poem
it was a particular poem
made many cry
told my story

to the person who is using my account
which i used to post my poem
which had been deleted from my computer
and only existed here in cyberspace

to this person
who added his/her poems to my name
i hope you, as a fellow poet
understand how a poem nursed
is not dissimilar to a child

i lost my child,
my poem.

if you have it please put it back
the name was 'father'
if you deleted it please write a poem

in this poem tell me that you have
i just need to know if my baby Poem is dead forever
or if it lives on your hard drive

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There Is No Poem I Can Write

THERE IS NO POEM I CAN WRITE


There is no poem I can write
That can solve the problems of my life-

A poem may save for a moment
Or give hope for a brief time
I may make me believe in myself again
For an instant-

It cannot make money
Or improve the situation
Of those I care about-

It cannot even now
Shake me from my despair
My sense of myself going down

A poem can be only very small help now
Very very small

It cannot even make me wholly believe
In the so- called poem I am writing now.

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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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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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The Poem I Am Writing Now

The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-

Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -

The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.

Why then write these words now?

The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.

But why should this mean anything to anyone else?

The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.

The poem I am writing now
is written.

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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written

THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN

Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.

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Everything She Wants

Somebody told me
Boy everything she wants is everything she sees
I guess i must have loved you
Because i said you were the perfect girl for me, baby
And now we're six months older
And everything you want and everything you see
Is out of reach not good enough
I don't know what the hell you want from me
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Some people work for a living
Some people work for fun
Girl i just work for you
They told me marriage was give and take
Well you've shown me you can take
You've got some giving to do
And now you tell me that your having my baby
I'll tell you that i'm happy if you want me to
But one step further and my back will break
If my best isn't good enough
Then how can it be good enough for two
I can't work any harder than i do
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Oh why do i do the things i do
I'd tell you if i knew
My god, i don't even think that i love you
(won't you tell me)
(to give you money, work to give you money)
How could you settle
For a boy like me
When all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
It's just a matter of time
My situation
Never changes
Walking in and out of that door
Like a stranger
For the wages
I give you all
You say you want more
And all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
Girl it's just a matter of time

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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.

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The Only Poem Is The Poem/ At The Moment Of Its Writing

THE ONLY POEM IS THE POEM

The only poem is the poem
At the moment of its writing
The poem being lived now
The poem I am trying to make
The poem of these lines.

The only poem now is this one-
And this poem is so small and so self- reflexive
That it is not much of a poem at all.

The only poem is not much of a poem at all
This one
And me now? .

But what about everything else I have not done?

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A Philosophy In Life

when you read that poem about deleting Maureen
i regret to have given you the wrong spelling for delet...

i know it lacks an e.
but i do not wish to delet it anymore or even edit it.

i have this philosophy in life you know
do not go back
leave all your tracks as they were once made

do not edit life
let them see how mistakes were made and how they need not be corrected

simply because you know that
people are patient and they understand the common ground of our humanity

errors, not eros.

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Leaving And Glad

You've been here many years.
You've seen and made many shed tears.
But with patience and pray we've muddle through.
Now we can all just say so long, and goodbye to you.
I know you won't be sad if you don't hear.
One and all giving that great big cheer.
Your words and actions cut like a knife.
To you we were tools for you to strife.
Retirement for you certainly won't be much fun.
You will have so few with which you can shun.
You didn't worry when you show you didn't care.
Working for and with you was really quite a dare.
With your leaving no poem I must write.
Because you would treat it as trite.
But now I too can be bold and brash.
Some day my words will bring me cash.
For years I was named a trouble maker.
Like some others we were in a big shaker.
You blamed others when things went wrong.
Thats why your poem is so very strong.
They say prayer can move mountains this I believe.
Since now you've been told retire and leave.
You voiced don't dare write a poem for you.
Yet deep in my heart I felt a poem you were due.

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I have wisdom

I have wisdom
I am writing poem.

I am not a child of market
I am not calling you to gossip
I am not writing a poem
To divert your attention
From main point of discussion.

I am writing poem for you
And you are reading my poem
With full seriousness.

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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!

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The Poem You Asked For

My poem would eat nothing.
I tried giving it water
but it said no,

worrying me.
Day after day,
I held it up to the llight,

turning it over,
but it only pressed its lips
more tightly together.

It grew sullen, like a toad
through with being teased.
I offered it money,

my clothes, my car with a full tank.
But the poem stared at the floor.
Finally I cupped it in

my hands, and carried it gently
out into the soft air, into the
evening traffic, wondering how

to end things between us.
For now it had begun breathing,
putting on more and

more hard rings of flesh.
And the poem demanded the food,
it drank up all the water,

beat me and took my money,
tore the faded clothes
off my back,

said Shit,
and walked slowly away,
slicking its hair down.

Said it was going
over to your place.

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Larry Levis

My poem would eat nothing.
I tried giving it water
but it said no,

worrying me.
Day after day,
I held it up to the llight,

turning it over,
but it only pressed its lips
more tightly together.

It grew sullen, like a toad
through with being teased.
I offered it money,

my clothes, my car with a full tank.
But the poem stared at the floor.
Finally I cupped it in

my hands, and carried it gently
out into the soft air, into the
evening traffic, wondering how

to end things between us.
For now it had begun breathing,
putting on more and

more hard rings of flesh.
And the poem demanded the food,
it drank up all the water,

beat me and took my money,
tore the faded clothes
off my back,

said Shit,
and walked slowly away,
slicking its hair down.

Said it was going
over to your place.

poem by Larry LevisReport problemRelated quotes
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Small Time

small time, you call it small time
writing
is small time, there is no money
in writing, like a
politician, look at him, he does not
write, someone writes for him
and he gets the prize
the money
the pot
the jackpot
and look at you
you keep on writing
and writing
and writing

oh la la
poems, fit for a woman
her limited mind
her gullibility
her passion for words and words and words
her imagination

and look at you
poor man, poor, poor, poor
what you give
to this world, what are you giving to this world

it is not even a flower
just a poem for her, and you claim that you are winning her heart?

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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.

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