A Cloudy Imagination
The lingering cumulus clouds
imperceptibly changed their shapes
while I sat below discerning
these metamorphosed spectacles.
My imagination went wild
as they drifted across the sky.
It seemingly was like my mind
was orchestrating their transmuting.
I glanced at one that took the shape
of the poet Walt Whitman's head;
another like Sylvia Plath;
and yet another looked like Poe.
I glanced back at the Whitman cloud
but it changed into Erato.
I took my pad from my pocket
and began to write this poem.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
An Apple from Walt Whitman
There's never been a poet where I live,
but I grew up in the shade of Whitman's name:
born in West Hills—our hills—he would have walked
our paths along the crest. I walked Whitman Road,
crashed the Whitman Drive-In, stole a book
from the sci-fi rack at the Melville-Whitman Pharmacy,
even played lacrosse against Whitman High;
we lost three times, the guys from Halfway Hollow,
to young men with Whitman in white on their varsity jackets.
My mother tells a story about Thanksgiving,
back when kids went begging in rags and blackface:
how Carrie Wicks's sister said she got
an apple from Walt Whitman, right at his house,
an old man with a beard. The big kids laughed,
knowing the white-haired caretaker was no one.
I set no foot inside the Whitman House
or Leaves of Grass till after I went away,
but I'm better having grown up with the name,
the house and hills of a poet everyone knew,
a poet big enough in the mothers' stories
for a girl to believe he came to the door with a long
white beard and smiled and handed her an apple.
If a poet the size of Whitman named our few
square miles and a few in Jersey it's going to take
a lot more big ones to hand us all a welcome
sweet as a Thanksgiving apple from Walt Whitman,
white-haired care-taker, seed of mothers' stories,
Appleseed of our poetry: nourishment, shade.
poem by Eric Torgersen
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Come, Said My Soul
Come, said my soul,
Such verses for my body let us write, (For we are One),
That should I after death invisibly return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth's soil, trees, winds, tumultous waves,)
Ever with pleas'd smile I may keep on
Ever and ever to the verses owning - as, first, I here and now,
Signing for soul and body, set them to my name,
Walt Whitman.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it and the imagination to improvise.
Sylvia Plath in The Journals of Sylvia Plath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Far And So Far, And On Toward The End
SO far, and so far, and on toward the end,
Singing what is sung in this book, from the irresistible impulses of
me;
But whether I continue beyond this book, to maturity,
Whether I shall dart forth the true rays, the ones that wait unfired,
(Did you think the sun was shining its brightest?
No--it has not yet fully risen;)
Whether I shall complete what is here started,
Whether I shall attain my own height, to justify these, yet
unfinished,
Whether I shall make THE POEM OF THE NEW WORLD, transcending all
others--depends, rich persons, upon you,
Depends, whoever you are now filling the current Presidentiad, upon
you, 10
Upon you, Governor, Mayor, Congressman,
And you, contemporary America.
Whitman, Walt. 1900. Leaves of Grass.
poem by Walt Whitman
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And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Different Sky Is Waiting
We’ve been in the rain so long
That our eyes are sore and red;
When joy is missing,
We gaze down too long at our feet
As we slowly walk through the city,
But there must be a different sky waiting
Offering love and inspiration.
Beneath these yellow factory skies,
Even the street lights look sadly dim,
Like our spiritual light within
Blurred by an affectionless life.
Things began to change
When I met you in a small bar
Not far from the school where you teach;
I saw Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
Easing out of your purse,
I knew we had to talk.
As we spoke over drinks
In the early evening,
I felt loneliness begin to lift
Like dark persistent clouds
Being pushed aside by sunlight,
As if Walt Whitman were sending us
Prayers mingled with lilacs.
Indeed, there is a different sky waiting,
Azure blue and dazzling,
Inviting flowers to bloom
On romantic avenues
When two people finally find each other.
In my mind I have already seen
You smile in a summer dress
Beneath a different sky welcoming our love.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Clouds
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Horse running free.
Camel walking desert dunes.
Ship sailing blue sky.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Winged dragon take flight.
Rabbit passes.
Tulip, petals falling.
Imagination growing.
Daydreams flowing.
Finger outlines shape.
One eye closed, now concentrate.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see?
Shapes in clouds follow me.
Collide, take form.
Breezes blow, rearranging.
Never knowing what materializes next.
Stop looking.
Lay back.
Can you see.
Shapes in clouds follow me.
poem by Gary Kedron
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The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is A Poem
As I sat in my room,
On my little desk chair,
I began to feel
A hint of despair.
I had for my homework,
A poem to create,
And if it wasen't done then,
It would have been late.
My school, my dog,
A tree or my home,
Which of these subjects,
Should I choose for my poem?
You can see for yourself,
That my problem was bad,
No poem could I think of,
My; this was sad.
As I sat there and gazed,
A thought came to mind:
A poem is a poem,
Just as long as it rhymes.
So I wrote down some words,
And tossed them around,
Until they rhymed nicely,
And had a smooth sound.
My poem was all finished,
My homework all done,
It wasen't bad after all,
It even was fun!
Longfellow, Whitman,
Robert Frost too,
I've discovered there secret
That all of them knew.
A poem is no problem,
It takes not much time,
You write down your thoughts,
In a way that will rhyme.
poem by Sarah Stopka
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On Our Broken Boat The Harsh Light Will Not Break
.
'Others the same - others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them, What is it then between us? ...What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? ' - Walt Whitman
On our broken boat the harsh light will not break.
We see our day clearly as we can.
Tell the night, now it's here to stay, that
once I glanced the sleeping youth, legs against the wall,
felt a pall descend upon us here,
this boat lancing the bay waters darkly.
Some to books then, the priest to his sad, effeminate stare.
I can no longer envy those of the black cloth
so bend and tie the shoe.
We shod our feet against what long loss of motion,
eyes downcast or boldly returning the stare?
Beneath each eye there's some familiar look we refuse.
We map our way to sleep in the palms of shy or frightened hands.
.
poem by Warren Falcon
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This day before dawn I ascended a hill and looked at the crowded heaven.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.
Walt Whitman in Leaves of Grass (1855)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The time I discovered myself a Poet
I wouldnt say I was patient
but I have an interest in poetry
Is it the dawning of a new error
or will the sky be grey
I write how I see life and it is not always pleasant
I like to write abou experiences that I have been through
my poetry has changed as I ave changed
I see it as a hobby as I write in my grange
My poetry is mainly fiction but I also write about things that are true
I am not a person that would share alot of enthusiasim
poetry is a work of art
on each sheet of blank paper
I put my mark
Poetry is simple in this world of sin
I am not into shakesphere
what I write is authentic
the imagination on paper creates magic
a poem can change an atmosphere
I would like to say my poems mean something
my poems are meant to sting a mind
I want my poems to create pictures for people who are blind
poem by Natasha Browne
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No Mandatory Rhymes Or Reason
Homer to
Chaucer to
Whitman to
Bukowski et al. to
Me to
You
A poem is where I find it,
Not just what was written
In a different time.
Pieces of a poem are everywhere.
Pick them up, pull them together, write them down
And they call you a poet.
Ignore the pieces you see in person, read or hear;
You've wasted your sight and hearing
And they don't call you at all.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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To A Common Prostitute
To a Common Prostitute
BE composed--be at ease with me--I am Walt Whitman, liberal and lusty
as Nature;
Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you;
Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to
rustle for you, do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for
you.
My girl, I appoint with you an appointment--and I charge you that you
make preparation to be worthy to meet me,
And I charge you that you be patient and perfect till I come.
Till then, I salute you with a significant look, that you do not
forget me.
poem by Walt Whitman
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The poet judges not as a judge judges but as the sun falling around a helpless thing.
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, it provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?
quote by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Day, O Soul
THIS day, O Soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;
Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay--But the cloud has
pass'd, and the tarnish gone;
... Behold, O Soul! it is now a clean and bright mirror,
Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Forever Changed
Train entering the city
I lost myself and never came back
Took a trip around the world and never came back
Black silhouettes, crisscrossed tracks, never came back
Forever changed
Forever changed
You might think Im frivolous, uncaring and cold
You might think Im empty, depends on your point of view
Society andy who paints and records them
The high and the low, never turn back
Forever changed
Forever changed
Forever changed
Forever changed
Got to get to the city, get a job
Got to get some work to see me through
My old lifes behind, I see it receding
My lifes disappearing, disappearing from view
Hong kong and I was changed
Burma, thailand and I was changed
A few good friends to see me through
Henry and brigid to see me through
Only art to see me through
Only heart to see me through
My old lifes disappearing, disappearing from view
Forever changed
Forever changed
I was forever changed
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Word is an Actor to the Poem
Word is an actor to the poem
Play small part in the end of some row
Or get the centre of attention
Written in title and crucial point
Or just a bridge between other characters
Word is an actor to the poem
Cast and found to create whole story
Have a role building imagination
Changed by mood or deep thought
Dancing in the mind of every poet
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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