Lines
I asked
Happiness
To give me
Some lines
To write
Happily…
It grimaced
And said -
There was
Nothing
In its booty.
It felt so empty.
So to help me
It went out of the way
To borrow some lines
From sadness and gave
Those to me.
So here I am
Writing some lines
To you, borrowed
From my friends -
Messrs. Happiness
And Sadness who
Were kind enough
To lend some lines
To me....for thee....
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Related quotes
If I Write A Few Lines
IF I WRITE A FEW LINES
If I write a few lines
My mind will open
My heart will take heart
I will begin to believe in myself again.
If I write a few lines
I will say that I still somewhere am alive,
Writing these lines
In such deep deep sadness and trouble,
I try
And word by word
Squeeze out a bit of Hope.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All The Lines Of Despair
ALL THE LINES OF DESPAIR
All the lines of despair
Are only a game to me.
In my heart always
Is the joy
Of writing the words down.
Every poem is happiness to me
When I write I am free.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time Lines
i have said nothing for time wont allow me.
time lines... time lines... time lines, what i felt for you has turned to confusion.
as time lines up our times together worry overshadows my 'influenced' judgement.
time lines..
our future perfectly sealed for i filled my heart with your promises.
time outlined your feelings for me..
times we spent together seem so far away like the times of the early bud.
our love has lost its will to florish like juliets rose.
time has outlined my affection for you.
time lines.. time lines..
the memories we once cherished together, the lines that have been put between us by time have destroyed the love once shared by you and me.
time has been thought to mend broken hearts ALAS, it has made matters worse.
time lines me and you. time lined our fate through spectatr critiques.
we possess souls joint together by time, YET its time that divides us.
time took its tole on our love.
is this forbidden love? that time has outlined
time lines my emotions of love for you..
time lines my emtions.
time lines.... time lines
poem by Njube Nangamso
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Solidarity In Lines
unemployment lines
lines of books
Lines of cocaine
Food stamp lines
Theater lines
Grocery store
car wash
school children
Soup kitchen
club
abortion clinic
Delicatessen
traffic lines
crosswalks
Traffic Jam
Lines on a map
Jules gets home and un-loads his rucksack
Gods laziness
Because of the machines and computers we will all end up lonely human beings
poem by Jerome Moore
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In The Place Where No One Else Is
In the place where no one else is
I sit alone-
The sun shines on my notebook
I write these lines
So peacefully
So happily-
The morning sun is stronger
Warming me restfully-
I don't have to do this morning
Anything I do not want to do-
These lines flow easily
As if writing and being in inner peace
Were one and the same gift always.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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Taste
Im up and I can take what you give
And Im here but I dont want you to live with me
'cause all I want is a taste for free
Im down and I will drag you along and around
Until you burst into song and unwind
And leave your new life behind for a while
Cause I can see through the lines
Cause I can see through the lines
Im down and I will drag you along and around
Until you burst into song and unwind
And leave your new life behind for a while
Im out and I will stay here alone and without
Someone controlled by the phone and tv
'cause what its doing to me is fine
Cause I can see through the lines
Cause I can see through the lines
Oooh oooh
Step into space
Oooh oooh
Alter my place
Oooh oooh
That someone else made
Why I have stayed
Into things I could be
Or if I could see
Into fog that surrounds
And pins me to the ground
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are You Sad?
You sound so sad,
Are you really
Sad?
Is your garden
Without any
Flower?
I am sad.
You doubt the sound
Of
My sadness?
What does
Sadness really
Sound
Like?
Does it sound like
A seagull’s journey
Along soundless
Stream on a
A dimming orange
Sunset, at the
Sea’s
Horizon
Homeward bound
Alone?
Is sadness in
True sadness
Sound at
All?
Is sadness not the
Maimed mouth
& death of the
Tongue?
The sound of my sadness
Is the sound of your
Sadness
You read me
In between
Some lines
In that imaginary
Phrase
Perhaps if you look for
Some flowers, or
Even a single flower
In-there
You may find it
If you really
Insists
But
You have to put
The flower
Yourself
Out-there
Sowing the seed
Of sensitivities
Who knows
If later, happiness
Grows
Like some unwanted
Weeds &
They would be many,
Not just one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poet Became His Own Poetry
A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY
A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.
A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Deux Parallele
Two parallel lines, two parallel lines
why can't they intertwine?
Osculating endlessly in an oblivious dream
Protracting incessantly, continuing as they seem
Arduoulsy crisscrossing, but they try not
Restless, unfortunate and strange-they intersect-a lot
Abhorrent, one line was assentient
Lines that shouldn't have met-but with Fate's consent
Languishing now, they converge-supposedly inexorable
Envisaging an unbounded union, then one line fumbles
Lines- these two lines now distorted and twisted
Lonely and longing, their common point, now ill-fated
Inelastic, these two lines- concurrent and disentangled
Nevermore will these two lines meet and form the Angle
Excogitating now, these two lines, victims of fate
Saved...these two lines be, once parallel, intersecting, can only wait
poem by Pete Zaesar Galula
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A Poet Without A Poem/ Empty and Desperate
A POET WITHOUT A POEM
A poet without a poem
Empty and desperate
Forces a few lines
As way of reviving himself.
The lines lead to other lines
A poem begins to come.
The poet hears his hope as he writes
And then when there is a poem
He just rests happily
Knowing he is alive again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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344
You have seen my face
You have seen the way I smile the way I bend my back
My shoulder leaning on the door
As though greeting you
A nice day a promising future
The glow of sun
The coolness of the moon
The splash on the clear blue waters
By the pool
By the sea
The sail boat passing by
The ship on anchor
By the wharf
And the cotton clouds hanging
By the green mountains
The poems I write are sad
You read them and you cry
You say you relate
You say you feel
The sadness of my lines
Now you ask me
Who am i?
Was I the butterfly dreaming about the sad man?
Or was I the sad man dreaming about the butterfly?
You are confused
I am not; I choose what I want to be
I am what I am
This moment,
And the moments that you imagine me to be
I write what I want
I am what I am
The lines may be lying
But read them again
I may be somewhere in the lines between
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beating The Blues
You have seen my face
You have seen the way I smile the way I bend my back
My shoulder leaning on the door
As though greeting you
A nice day a promising future
The glow of sun
The coolness of the moon
The splash on the clear blue waters
By the pool
By the sea
The sail boat passing by
The ship on anchor
By the wharf
And the cotton clouds hanging
By the green mountains
The poems I write are sad
You read them and you cry
You say you relate
You say you feel
The sadness of my lines
Now you ask me
Who am i?
Was I the butterfly dreaming about the sad man?
Or was I the sad man dreaming about the butterfly?
You are confused
I am not; I choose what I want to be
I am what I am
This moment,
And the moments that you imagine me to be
I write what I want
I am what I am
Some lines may be lying
But read them all over again
I may be there
between those lines somewhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You ask me who am I really?
You have seen my face
You have seen the way I smile the way I bend my back
My shoulder leaning on the door
As though greeting you
A nice day a promising future
The glow of sun
The coolness of the moon
The splash on the clear blue waters
By the pool
By the sea
The sail boat passing by
The ship on anchor
By the wharf
And the cotton clouds hanging
By the green mountains
The poems I write are sad
You read them and you cry
You say you relate
You say you feel
The sadness of my lines
Now you ask me
Who am i?
Was I the butterfly dreaming about the sad man?
Or was I the sad man dreaming about the butterfly?
You are confused
I am not; I choose what I want to be
I am what I am
This moment,
And the moments that you imagine me to be
I write what I want
I am what I am
The lines may be lying
But read them again
I may be somewhere in the lines between
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I would fix other people's lines if they asked me on occasion. The hard part of writing is the architecture of it, getting the story and structuring it. Not the tweaking of lines.
quote by William Devane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode To Happiness
Ode to happiness
Joy cometh in the morning.
May only peace reign.
All our hope comes from above.
Wars shall truly cease,
When that which is perfect comes.
Rejoicing always
We shall overcome sin’s grasp,
When Heaven arrives!
The Earth will sing a new song.
Every knee shall then bend down!
A Choka Poem goes like this:
1st 3 lines = 5,7,5 syllables
2nd 3 lines = 7,5,7 syllables
Ending 2 lines = 7 syllables each
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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My Ageing Poem
A simple poem I wanted to write
The words were so clear in my mind
But my fingers were numb and sore
Lift a pencil they can't at all
Before a few lines write I could
With my signpen wrestle I should
I tried to read my scribbles
And asked my self how did I fare
The words I saw were all in blur
And were in badly crooked lines
I have but lost my metering
And all my lines did hardly rhyme
My next poems shall not be written
And in my thought will just remain
Be unrecited as they may
Till in my mind they fade away
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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