The Birth Of Verse
The words unspoken rest within the tomes
of dictionaries and thesauruses
Their overpopulated muted homes
await the poet to give them voices.
'Oh! Wordy friends, beseech your help I must.
Inspire me with living elements
that I may structure verse with words I trust.
Let truth bespeak my worthiness intent.
And give it rhythmic regularity.
Allow its message avenues of grand.
Have muse, Erato, speak with clarity
to humankind and make them understand
that poetry, the universe of love
and Truth is His only recourse thereof.'
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Cold Day Hot Poetry
Cold day hot poetry
Truth is here
With false sorry.
Poetry is true
World is false
This is not my story.
Words are not under my control
It is word I
That is to see.
I care not what you say
I care only truth and truth
And truth that only I say.
Excuse me if I am not able to touch
But I have got a lot of love
To you all living and non-living
I Love you and I seek your blessing.
I am hopeful and this world is wonderful
My wife is beautiful and my work is successful
You are my grand master and life is nectar-full.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Lightning Rod
A poet is merely a lightning rod,
For passing through him the words of God!
He opens up his mind, receives,
Then passes on the message, grieves!
The words erupt from deep within him
That God has stored before, verbatim.
Line upon line of schemes, ideas,
When left to man, left man in tears.
Words left in trust at the Creation
Mankind would waste in dissipation.
Before, when Adam walked with Eve
In Eden's den of make-believe
Were knowledge trees and friendly serpents
As God composed the Ten Commandments!
And every verse of every poem
Was writ before the truth was known;
That nothing is ever achieved by man
Without the seal of God's own hand.
So laud me not, the poet's in me,
But deep within, the poet's empty.
A poet is merely a lightning rod
For passing through him the words of God!
9 November 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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You Want Me To Simplify My Life..to Be
to be just
simple and say clearly what i what you to understand
less words perhaps
no signs no picture even
just a glance or a touch or a tap on the shoulder
to be direct, candid, straighforward
to tell the truth, this truth and nothing but the truth
no words
how can i tell you? how can i give you the signs
how can i be direct and candid and straightforward
how can i ever tell the truth
when all these years i do not know anymore
about anything
when what i know is only to survive
at all costs
do you think that i still have the truth or the courage to tell you
about it
the truth? do you really need the truth inorder to live?
tell me, why and what?
learn first and teach me how
let us perhaps begin again from the time when we were born
from the time when we first give them our
big cry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Talkin' To Me
Funny how it's hard to find the words sometimes you know
Wishin we could read minds
Don't wanna let our feelings show
So even if you say you don't understand
I'm willing to give as much time as I can
Every time our eyes meet
Every time our eyes meet
Be talkin talkin talkin talkin to me (talkin to me)
Talkin talkin talkin talkin to me
Just ain't no need for words to speak (oh)
Cause every time
Be talkin talkin talkin to me
Be talkin talkin talkin to me (Talkin to me)
Your always actin so composed and cool
Never got to many words for me (To many words)
You always turn your head and make sure I see (Just to make sure)
Baby ain't nothin' wrong with the love
That you and I dream of
So sweet
Your actions say more than your lips can speak
My friends say that they just can't see (They just can't see)
How a love unspoken can be so deep (Can be so deep)
And every time that you look my way
I see
What your heart wants to say to me
Every time our eyes meet (oh yeah)
Be talkin talkin talkin talkin to me (Talkin to me)
Talkin talkin talkin talkin to me
Just ain't no need for words to speak (Ain't no need for words)
Cause every time
Be talkin talkin talkin to me (no no no no no)
Be talkin talkin talkin to me
Every time our eyes meet (My eyes meet your
song performed by by Amerie from All I Have
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Way To Write The Truth
it is when you write the truth
that words become accurate,
they become so touching, and those who hear them
identify with them
in the most sentimental manner
perhaps because truth is a sentiment
something that strikes the heart rather than the mind
it is something so personal that someone does not even want to speak about it
again
it is not spoken because no words can take it from its clarity
every detail is an obvious and
intricate design
in fact there is a map there
that connects you and
the speaker & the other listener
over there
the bridge becomes so strong
that all men in all walks of life with their women
begin to cross
in silence but with the full understanding that this is it
it is us
sometimes i tell you that i am lying
that is the best truth that i can give you
for a while that the pain is not that strong
for fear that it crosses that path that leads to you
and then
i will be too unfair
to give it to all of you
like a Trojan horse
or the seeds of discord
it is when i write the truth
that i feel rested, because by then you will confirm what i feel
what i say, what i did not say that i feel
and then i become a part of you
and then i am not lonely anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As The Spirit Fills
Verse by verse and line by line; The Spirit fills the heart and mind.
The Spirit moves on a scribe, to pen the words down deep inside.
God uses men to reach the world, with a message for us to herald.
Some may speak while other men, The Lord above uses their pen.
Apostles would speak The Word, and men believed as they heard.
It was God’s Word they received, that would lead them to believe.
As New Believers they would go, and share so others could know,
The saving Grace of Jesus Christ, so they too could have New Life.
As The Truth began to spread, many would use parchment instead.
And The Truth many would heed, from words that they would read.
Either way, God’s Truth we share, with all those for whom we care.
Allow The Spirit to move your heart, so God’s Truth we can impart.
My friend, God will use anyone, to share The Truth about His Son.
Using any form of communication, to reach the lost with Salvation.
Join the Apostles and Prophets of old, sharing Truth till all are told,
About The Lord and Savior above, sent to all by The Father’s Love.
God still moves upon men today, helping us with the words to say,
For me the verses seem to flow, while The Spirit helps me to grow.
As I write the words aren’t mine, for my source is above and Divine.
It is The Spirit who fills my pen, and to this friend, I just say Amen.
(Copyright ©01/2006)
Unspoken
Unspoken
By: Adam M. Snow
You torment me with your bladed tongue;
if only you knew my life is left unsung.
Now I am broken;
blind, and left unspoken;
with my dreams shattered by you;
for now I know not what to do.
I am left with a voice of silence;
all alone in the distance.
My words I want to say remains unspoken;
for I wonder, 'Will I ever be unbroken? '
Your words still scorn my soul;
for it feels that I am left to rot in this hole.
You showed me your heart of ice;
yet I ask, 'Is my life the price? '
Your bladed tongue pierced my heart;
all because of you, I have fallen apart.
You speak of broken truth;
yet you say I am uncouth.
You push me away and call me a freak;
for all you have done, now silence is what I speak.
I am a ghost with words left unspoken;
standing over my essence, shattered and broken.
Your words are torment;
is this not your intent?
I am tainted by your selfishness;
for my feelings I cannot express.
I am broken because of you;
I only wish you knew.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Lunch With a Poet
I had lunch with a poet, just the other day.
A poet who has written fine and lofty verse,
Conveying his experiences, emotions and his ideas, in
Vivid, imaginative ways, condensed in simple language,
Choosing words for sound and power,
Rather than impressing readers with poetic adulterations.
Almost apologetically, he said he uses 'nickel words'
To write his inner thoughts. It was as if he were at fault,
As though he thought those simple sounds
Had lessened the intent of his poetic worth.
I emphasized how wrong he was, and tried
To make clear, a poet writes in sympathy with his reader,
Overleaping the barriers of understanding by the simplicity
Of his language, and of his words.
To write with words of misty meaning does not make
A mystic.
To write with vulgar words does not lift up the poem
On wings of song, it only floats as high as the poet's
Commonality who, mistaking flatulence for inspiration, becomes
Enmeshed in a literary byproduct of the foulest of excretion and Smells.
My friend failed to intellectually understand,
But spiritually Accepts, as his writings reveal,
That clarity of thought and mind is the poet's
Highest point of the poet's integrity.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Evolutionary Poet
Forgive this poet, to suppose
Poetry to be more than prose
Think me not romantic fool
Nor subject of thy ridicule
I seek transition, mind to heart
The place where truth resides
There’s much wisdom to impart
From ones soul 'n inner guides
Social conscience good poet be
A voice, within vast sea of voices
Impassioned words with cogency
Words diverse, as man’s choices
Great change implores poets unite
Too bravely flame of truth ignite
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Poetry Student
Wonder
is a philosopher
is a poet
looks with awe
upon all things
sees one in many
praises one,
delights in many
loves
reasons
wonder is a poet
Barely a year ago now
what was he?
an adult student whom I scarcely knew,
self-contained (and what
an epithet that is…) ,
a human being with a warmth,
a keen mind for profounder things, but
not burdened with over-education,
still an innocent guarding wonder with a hidden strength;
who turned up one day
for the occasional poetry session
not much to start with
but he kept at it
and then it seems that the Muse,
so much wiser than poetry teachers,
casting around for messengers
as she must, to tell her glory to the world,
decided that he just might fit the bill
and now he’s hers. Love,
and the knowledge of love
pour unpretentiously from him, with
a depth of insight expressed with simple clarity;
the choice of words seems to come from purest instinct;
beauty, goodness, truth flow through him unimpeded
very soon he’ll wonder just who wrote these poems;
the answer, as the Muse must know
is in the wonder. Yes, she chose right.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Potential Poetry!
Love has no fear whatsoever in the world;
Poet does all by his love of all matters here;
Poetry is inspiring words of poet for all!
What's not possible by poetry is nothing!
Impossible is expressed in possible words
Making unknown known by poetry only!
Forms and style are poets own creations;
Poetry is ever new in expression of ideas
Inspiring all to be enthusiastic, enlightened!
Love of Nature, life, beauty and love poetry
Explores always deep to express truth new!
Poets are gods of Earth to men to new realm!
Poetry briefly converges all in a nutshell
As powerful as atomic energy in control!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Young Poets
You speak for the lakes, the trees and the birds
You say what they'd say if they had the words.
Make PEACE and be proud, choose well every choice
Speak HOPE and speak loud, you are Nature's voice.
Speak with respect now, for jungles and streams,
Speak for all wildlife and dream giant dreams.
Speak with great courage, speak up and speak out,
Write with a whisper or write with a SHOUT!
Stand up young poets for clean air and rivers,
Free verse or lyric; your message delivers...
Truth to the future citizens of earth,
Speak of your freedom your friends and self worth.
Speak for tomorrow and though you're still young,
Speak for the Forest, your pen is her tongue.
The world waits to hear your songs still unsung
Words posses power, you can write the wrongs
Teach us and lead us with Poems and with songs.
Speak now for nature, for trees and for birds,
Defenders of Earth choose carefullly your words!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Sonnet: My Poesy
My Poesy is God-given a gift!
A soothing balm to mind and heart and soul;
No more my ship of life at sea’s adrift;
Bestowed on me has God a better role.
A wordy weapon that can hurt my foes;
A wordy solace that can give mind peace;
A worthy message that can drive out woes;
A ‘destressor’ in distress, giving ease.
My poetry can even others heal!
My poetry has much in-built logic;
My poetry can make all hearts to feel;
My poetry can do wonders/ magic.
My poetry has me endowed mind’s strength,
And I can write quite well for any length.
poem by John Celes
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The Universe
Many blindly believe and trust in what is not the truth,
But nature itself is full of love and it is crowned with beauty!
So be yourself and learn from the truth always.
Listen to your heart and return to yourself,
This universe if full of love for us to share;
And, try and learn the best from others too.
Love makes the world go round so,
Listen to your heartbeat;
For, in the beginning was the world made for us to live in.
Why hate your neighbour?
You've got love to give;
And whatever you do,
Do it for the love.
You've got love t give to the universe,
You've got a message to share with us all;
So, why hate your neighbour?
With love, we have the green vegetation;
With love, we were made out of dust;
With love, the skies are blue and white to see;
With love, the oceans are blue;
With love, we were made male and female;
This is the sweet love to touch all mankind but,
Many are very blind to the truth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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But is it
Right down within the depths of me
there lies a vein of poetry
Wherein I find when I have leisure
words which are my greatest treasure.
Words with which I can fashion verse
some silken smooth and some perverse
Each one is chosen carefully
then put together artfully.
I find them raw and unrefined
then with the power of my mind.
I create intricate designs
of words that some idea defines.
A poet is an artisan
who follows carefully a plan
that’s handed down from days of yore.
Which many men have used before.
To create formal poetry
to demonstrate their artistry.
Perchance I sometimes get it right
in verses which I choose to write.
I can imagine nothing worse
for those of us who write in verse
Than poetry which does not scan
and lacks all structure, has no plan.
Just words which incoherently
are juxtaposed haphazardly
. Which critics now suppose to be
the future form of poetry.
22-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Vulnerable
I need to choose.
I need to believe.
The truth in your eyes,
The truth in your kiss,
The truth in your words,
The truth in your Heart.
I need to know.
I need to trust.
The truth in your tears,
The truth in your lips,
The truth in your mind,
The truth in your love.
poem by Heather Z. Hanna
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Words of Comfort
In my mind thoughts will flow, from The Truth I have come to know,
To words of light and encouragement, to the places I’ve been sent.
A comfort to all who do believe, and a light to all who are deceived,
God’s encouragement to a brother, while words of Truth to another.
Comforting words that I can say, to brighten a brother’s dismal day,
Words filled with hope and love, that point to our Savior, up above.
Words of Truth that only come, through The Spirit from God’s Son,
Who comes to dwell in our heart, from where words He does impart.
This to bring the lost to The Truth, through loving words not reproof,
So through our words men can see, The Loving Father of all Eternity,
Who came to die, to give us life, through His Only Son, Jesus Christ.
Who now lives, so that all men, through The Son can be Born Again.
Then receive The Spirit spoken of, when they accept His Son’s Love.
To be used upon this temporal earth, through the power of New Birth,
And the washing and regeneration, through His Blood unto Salvation.
Which only comes from God’s Son, the Lord and Savior of everyone.
You too will share the Living Word, speaking Truth until all have heard,
The saving Truth of God’s Salvation, Christ who came for every nation.
And then you will be a comfort too, to all who believe like me and you,
Speaking words of comfort friend, about life in Christ that has on end.
(Copyright ©06/2007)
Is This Poetry?
they write the most complicated
arrangement of words
and give them their own tones
and colors and smell
and to a certain extent
of sophistication you do not
understand anything
with all the symbolism
and metaphorizing
suns talking and moons sneering
and cats yawning and seaweeds
dancing and spirits blitzing
and cornucopia feasting
and ambrosia sleeping
and cupid and psyche
dating and lamps lighting
and darkness enclosing
and you complain
that you do not understand a thing
and you say you hate poetry
and this poet asks you: do you understand?
and you honestly say, with a matching shaking of your head
and stamping of your feet: what are you telling me? I do not understand
what your poem is saying.
and he laughs, 'anything that you do not understand is poetry'
and so from that time on, you pretend to understand poetry
simply because, in truth, you do not like it
and on such pretense, you successfully murdered
everything that he wrote.
poems are dead, now they are burying them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(V - 2009) The Truth of the Truth
The Sages and Seers
That be and have been
Cannot have seen
The truth of the Truth!
What they see as Truth
Is Truth merely
It’s not really
The truth of the Truth!
The Ultimate Truth
Cannot be known
We aren’t that grown –
The truth of the Truth!
We’re part of the Truth
We’re trying to see
We’re yet so tiny –
The truth of the Truth!
Though hard and great
The pains we give
We cannot outlive
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to you once
Remains not the same
So changing the game –
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to a man
Is not Truth to all
That’s what we call
The truth of the Truth!
These thoughts as I pen
It’s Truth to me
It’s to me only
The truth of the Truth!
Finnigan
Lying words among men,
And living words among the truth;
But when the needy speak right,
Your muse is exposed!
And like the drink of the thirsty.
Money can't buy my love,
For i am Finnigan in the land of joy!
And i have seen the lying lips around my me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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