Fragment
What is poetry? Is it a mosaic
Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought
Into a pattern? Rather glass that's taught
By patient labor any hue to take
And glowing with a sumptuous splendor, make
Beauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught,
Transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraught
With storied meaning for religion's sake.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Autumn in Mosaic! !
Shreds of red n orange, on base very jade
Spread in the yard, winters on the chase
Tangled all the way, dispersal is its phase
Fall on the way, my autumns in mosaic.
Chills in the wind, blowing in all grace
No warmth in trees, no more cozy shades
Saying bye with a hope, then asks to wait
Fall on the way, my autumns in mosaic.
Same were the days
You by my side and a hint of haze
Lost somewhere, never solved that maze
Fall on the way, my autumns in mosaic.
Come home back to me, you are dearly missed
For world its fall, but my heart's ablaze
Desires so many, like the buds in Mays
Fall on the way, my autumns in mosaic.
poem by Samima Shah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Do They Think Of Poetry? ,
what do they think of poetry, ?
what do they think of poetry,
I tried to discern,
poetry is value,
They said that poetry has no diction,
Someone told me poetry is for the ladies,
I give him math and calculations,
These are the serf's of poetic value,
their criticism is all absurd,
they give limit's to it,
that they never read the deeper meaning of poetry,
They never knew it's metaphysical and deft pattern's,
math has the immutabilty,
you can never say a horse has five leg's,
but poetry is the euphoria,
the resonance,
the assonance,
the intonation,
the mutabality,
the maxim,
the troth,
just like in Crime and Punishment with character's like,
Raskolnikov,
math could not cure his indigent soul,
Only the vicissitudes and written word of empyreal value,
the contemplation,
maybe agitation of Integrated pattern's,
or maybe suffering of the soul to regain salvation.
poem by Maxim Muyu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What's the real meaning of Poetry
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
what is the real meaning of you?
is it the sonnets, the haiku's the imagery
no one will ever know.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
I know the real meaning of you
to express my feelings and thoughts on paper
to be able to publish you.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
you tell me the meaning of you.
poem by Nadia Potenza
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Seven Wonders
Written by stevie nicks and sandy stewart.
So long ago
Certain time
Certain place
Tyou touched my hand
All the way
All the way down to emmiline
But if our paths never cross
Well you know Im sorry but
If I live to see the seven wonders
Ill make a path to the rainbows end
Ill never live to match the beauty again
The rainbows end
So its hard to find
Someone with that kind of intensity
You touched my hand I played it cool
And you reached out your hand for me
But if our paths never cross
Well you know Im sorry but
If I live to see the seven wonders
Ill make a path to the rainbows end
Ill never live to match the beauty again
The rainbows end
So long ago
Its a certain time
Its a certain place
You touched my hand and you smiled
All the way back you held out your hand
If I hope and I pray
Ooh it might work out someday
If I live to see the seven wonders
Ill make a path to the rainbows end
Ill never live to match the beauty again
The rainbows end
If I live to see the seven wonders
Ill make a path to the rainbows end
Ill never live to match the beauty again
If I live to see the seven wonders
Ill make a path to the rainbows end
Ill never live to match the beauty again
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Definition of Poetry by a 15 yr old
Poetry does not need a meaning or defintion.
Poetry is how the reader reads it,
Poetry is how the poet writes it.
Poetry is real,
Poetry is fake,
Poetry is everything,
Poetry is fate.
Poetry is rythm.
Poetry can ryme.
Poetry is anything, I make it mine.
poem by Eric Graham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Big Or Brief Poetry......!
Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!
Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?
Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!
Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!
Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Shadow And Substance
What have we lost with our lost Heaven and Hell?
Have sacred faith and worship come to naught?
Is life no more with noble meaning fraught?
Is it not still a thing ineffable,
Beyond what mind can grasp or tongue may tell —
Beyond all mystery by sages taught,
All greatest wonders by Messiah wrought —
The one first, last, divinest miracle!
Let selfish hopes, with old myths, pass away.
Though creeds must go, the God of all remains,
And more and more His might upholds and awes.
Revealed in Nature's universal laws;
And more and more true love its crown attains,
And our good world grows better day by day.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Poetry Is All In One!
Passion for poetry is insatiable!
Poetry gives pleasure nothing can!
Poetry is many subjects under one roof!
Poetry never bores to write and read ever!
Poetry is a compression of many ideas in a nut shell!
Poetry displays power of pen to capture men ever!
Poetry captures as photo castles built in air!
Poetry is spontaneous over flow of ides!
Poetry flows free if extemporary!
Poetry is prolific words sure!
Poetry is a thing of joy!
Poetry is beauty!
Poetry is witty!
Poetry cheers!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Faith
And is the great cause lost beyond recall?
Have all the hopes of ages come to naught?
Is life no more with noble meaning fraught?
Is life but death, and love its funeral pall?
Maybe. And still on bended knees I fall,
Filled with a faith no preacher ever taught.
O God -- MY God -- by no false prophet wrought --
I believe still, in despite of it all!
Let go the myths and creeds of groping men.
This clay knows naught -- the Potter understands.
I own that Power divine beyond my ken,
And still can leave me in His shaping hands.
But, O my God, that madest me to feel,
Forgive the anguish of the turning wheel!
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caught Up In You
I never knew there'd come a day
When I'd be sayin' to you
"Don't let this good love slip away
Now that we know that it's true."
Don't, don't you know the kind of man I am
No, said I'd never fall in love again
But it's real and the feeling comes shining through.
So caught up in you, little girl
And I never did suspect a thing
So caught up in you, little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me baby you taught me
How good it could be
It took so long to change my mind
I thought that love was a game
I played around enough to find
No two are ever the same
You made me realized the love I missed
So hot! Love I couldn't quite resist
When it's right the light just comes shining through.
So caught up in you, little girl
You're the one that's got me down on my knees
So caught up in you, little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me, baby you taught me
How good it could be
Fill your days and your nights
No need to ever ask me twice oh no
Whenever you want me
And if ever comes a day
When you should turn and walk away oh no
I can't live without you
So caught up in you
Yeah, yeah, yeah
And if ever comes a day
When you should turn and walk away oh no
I can't live without you
So caught up in you, little girl
You're the one that's got me down on my knees
So caught up in you , little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me baby you taught me
How good it could be, little girl
You're the one that's got me down on my knees
So caught up in you, little girl
That I never want to get myself free
And baby it's true
You're the one
Who caught me and taught me
You got me so caught up in you
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Actual Beauty!
Beauty without love will meet with the fate of Dorian Gray!
Beauty is the outer make up to make one look better;
Actual beauty differs from apparent one in almost all cases.
Actual beauty is inner love glowing bright out attractive at once;
True beauty is inner beauty naturally impressive in all respects.
Beauty lies in the perfection of thoughts, words and deeds in all;
Beauty is truth, perfection, love, freedom, joy and peace in one!
Art is a work of beauty as adequate expression only can complete it;
Poetry is an art as it makes beauty out of chaos logically meaningful.
Architectural work of Pyramid or Pisa is a frozen beauty of symmetry!
poem by Ramesh T A
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A Poet Full Of Courage
There will come a day that I will be free of the drepression
And the depression won't make me his prisoner anymore because I will get the 2x4 and I will fight it hard to gain control over my depression
Depression changes who I am completely from mild, relaxed, to anxiou, and manic
The depression is not going to control me because I won't let it control me
I will fight to the end as long as I can to put an end to my depression
Depression is not a beutiful thing that I canbe proud of it
I am not at all
But I feel that I can make a change ny making it better by writing poetry and listening to music becasuse it is music that helps me to get rid of my depresion
And with music I get the courage to move on
Because music improves my well being and I feel that it is what makes me stronger and with religion does the same thing to me
But the two combime it is even better than medicime
I must say that there are no better medicine in this world than music, Poetry, and God because they all fall in the same category
I believe that one day I will be healed and I will tell it to the doctor and He will fall flat in his face
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Mind That Heart
Jane Austen’s heroines –(ah, dearest Jane…)
knew a thing or two –
show a man you have a mind,
and you may catch his heart..
and men –
flowers, a poem, a compliment,
something of beauty
to show you have a heart,
may bring you to her mind..
so poetry:
meaning is beauty to the mind,
beauty is meaning to the heart.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Yours
You brighten up the moon and stars at night
You keep me seeing rainbows in the sky
You bring new meaning to my life, now
I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours, yours
Tender love's what you're giving me and
You surpass all my fantasies and
I keep thanking the Lord above for
Blessing me with oh so much
Cause I know how it feels to be
part of you boy
Everyday of my life's so abundant
With joy
And I honestly never thought love
could be real
until the angels guided you to me
You brighten up the moon and stars at night
You keep me seeing rainbows in the sky
You bring new meaning to my life, now
I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours, yours
Lying with you so natural
I never knew this was possible
And it finally feels like my life has begun
now that I can share it with someone
You brighten up the moon and stars at night
You keep me seeing rainbows in the sky
You bring new meaning to my life, now
I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours, yours
You brighten up the moon and stars at night
You keep me seeing rainbows in the sky
You bring new meaning to my life, now
I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours, yours
Baby our love will always persevere
Anything you ever need,
You know I'll be right here and
You don't have to worry boy
I won't betray your trust
Because I'm so much in love
Every time your lips meet mine
It still feels like the first time
And if you lost everything
I'd keep on standing by your side
And boy it seems like everyday
I fall deeper in love
Because I can't get enough
You brighten up the moon and stars at night
You keep me seeing rainbows in the sky
You bring new meaning to my life, now
I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours, yours
You brighten up the moon and stars at night
You keep me seeing rainbows in the sky
You bring new meaning to my life, now
I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours, yours
Yours
Yours
Yours
Yours
Everything that you do's so amazing
Everything that you do's so amazing
Everything that you do's so amazing
Everything that you do's so amazing to me
Boy
You brighten up the moon and stars at night
You keep me seeing rainbows in the sky
You bring new meaning to my life, now
I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours, yours
(Baby I believe in miracles because I'm baby I'm forever yours. I believe in miracles baby I'm forever yours)
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Doctor Lang
Little, perhaps, thou valuest verse of mine—
Little hast read of what my hand has wrought,
Yet I with thy brave memory would entwine
The muse’s amaranths. For thou well hast fought
For freedom; well her sacred lessons taught;
Well baffled wrong; and delved with far design
Into those elements where treasures shine
Excelling those wherewith our hills are fraught.
And when thy glorious grey head shall make
One spot all-hallowed for the coming days—
Tombed in the golden land for whose sole sake
With labour thou hast furrowed all thy ways,—
Well a young nation shall thy worth appraise
Even through the grief which then shall o’er thee break
poem by Charles Harpur
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Life From The Lifeless
Spirits and illusions have died,
The naked mind lives
In the beauty of inanimate things.
Flowers wither, grass fades, trees wilt,
The forest is burnt;
The rock is not burnt.
The deer starve, the winter birds
Die on their twigs and lie
In the blue dawns in the snow.
Men suffer want and become
Curiously ignoble; as prosperity
Made them curiously vile.
But look how noble the world is,
The lonely-flowing waters, the secret-
Keeping stones, the flowing sky.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Poetry On The Chin
You gouged my mind's eye,
Tantalised all inner thought,
Shocked from unknown angles;
Sold me, told me cold,
Unfolded, moulded;
Shouldered any harbouring
Of empty morals.
You spun me round; undressed -
Pestered me with background riddle -
Piffle came to gleaning meaning.
And you stripped out prejudice - for none
Must exist in poetry,
Lest you close up an open mind
And f**k up as reader;
Lest your heart is not a bleeder -
It has to be - let it flush out
Upon your sleeve.
You lay apart my thinking brain
And let in the literary pickings of a
Great poetic phallus.
Yes, poetry can be callous.
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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I Believe in Miracles
I believe in rainbows and golden sunbeams
i believe in hopes and dreams
i believe in that old fable always told of old
That at the rainbows end there's a pot of gold
i believe there's some place beyond the blue
Where the promise of Love and Peace is forever true
i believe in me and you
i believe in miracles, for i have known a few
i believe in me and you
i believe in miracles, for i have known a few
i believe in me and you
poem by Billie Jeanne James
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Fairyland 02.09.2009
Playground of our old school is a
wonderland of rising hillock with
steep sides abounding in small
holes turned into fairy dells
I swept them with a broom
exposed coloured stones
leaf decorated, artfully
arranged fir tree needles
I remember fresh smell, sunbeams
glistening in dust, beauty of my
fairy valley, joy and peace
played alone, by myself
The dream of creating fairyland
lingers on in glittering fairy
figurines next to
my bed
Pasting fairy pictures everywhere
changing every space into a
magical place
poem by Margaret Alice
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Withering into a dead thing
All in her splendor
my love went into the world,
and the new morning.
My best friend caught her eye
while she walked
into the sun.
shaking her head
to make her hair fall
in a frenzy of auburn colors.
The sea was turning
taking the tide in
and so were the seasons
from autumn in to winter
and winter charging
into spring
and our love
was left behind
withering into a dead thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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