Definition of Poetry
It's a whistle blown ripe in a trice,
It's the cracking of ice in a gale,
It's a night that turns green leaves to ice,
It's a duel of two nightingales.
It is sweet-peas run gloriously wild,
It's the world's twinking tears in the pod,
It is Figaro like hot hail hurled
From the flutes on the wet flower bed.
It is all that the night hopes to find
On the bottom of deep bathing pools,
It's the star carried to the fish-pond
In your hands, wet and trembling and cool.
This close air is as flat as the boards
In the pond. The sky's flat on its face.
It would be fun if these stars guffawed-
But the universe is a dull place.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Related quotes
That one star
Remember that summer, i used to lie down on the grass.
In the countryside, i used to watch the stars every night.
Were always lots of stars in the dark blue sky,
Were always rich lightened in the deep sky.
And there was only one star that i liked.
Was in different places everyday night,
But i would find it every time.
And there was one special star that i wondered.
Was the lightest one in my eyes,
But no one else could find it.
That one star stayed in my memories,
That one star is still in my mind.
Too far to catch it,
Too close to run away from it.
Every night it would appear in the sky.
Every day it would disappear in the light.
Someday i couldn't wait for the night.
Then i used to pray for the night to come quickly.
Still i see that one star,
Even on the another side of the earth.
Still i see that one star,
Even in the middle of my dream.
That one star never left me.
That one star never came close.
Just like in the beginning,
Same in the end.
That one star.
That one star.
poem by Sukhee Bukhbat
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The Neglected Pond
i may have neglected this pond
some fish are no longer swimming
eventually die in the water
their same burial place
some moss float and the lotus
has not borne any flower since
that day of mourning
someone as i leave may take
notice of this pond
and have pity and pour
everything there
to revive it or
take more perhaps for the
replacement
a new koi or
a gold fish
white pebbles and
a janitor fish
it does not matter for i still grieve
and grieving does not know what hope is
what a new house means
the trails to San Antonio
what are they? but same vomiting mud
and i won't take it
for an answer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Untitled: The Blue Night
The blue night has softly risen on our foreheads.
Quietly our putrid hands touch
Sweet bride!
Our countenance became pale, moony pearls
Melted in green pond-ground.
Petrified ones, we contemplate our stars.
O painful! Culprits wander in the garden
The shadows in wild embrace,
So that tree and animal sank about them in immense anger.
Soft harmonies, when we ride
through the still night in crystalline waves
A rosy angel steps from the graves of the lovers.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Another Language
The whole world is flat
& I am round.
Even women avert their eyes,
& men, embarrassed
by the messy way
that life turns into life,
look away,
forgetting they themselves
were once this roundness
underneath the heart,
this helpless fish
swimming in eternity.
The sound of O,
not the sound of I
embarrasses the world.
My friends, who voluntarily have made
their bodies flat,
their writings flat as grief,
look at me in disbelief.
What is this large unseemly thing-
a pregnant poet?
an enormous walking O?
Oh take all the letters of the alphabet but that!
We speak the Esperanto of the flat!
Condemned to sign
language & silence, pregnant poems
for men to snicker at,
for women to denounce,
I live alone.
My world is round
& bounded by the mountain of my fear;
while all the great geographers agree
the world is flat
& roundness cannot be.
poem by Erica Jong
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Flat
Back at the flat
I talk to my non-existent cat
Silence covers me like a Panama hat.
And the wonderful day we had at the zoo
Sunshine and ice cream; you snapped a Gnu.
Now echoes in the silence
That lonliness brings
Back at the flat where my life still clings,
Back at the flat i slowly fade in pain
Who will i hold so close again?
As cutting memories drive me insane
Trapped, i look out and it begins to rain.
Back at the flat i try to plan ahead
Feel one true kiss before i'm dead
Hold a hand that squeezes back tight
Drink wine and sing in someones moonlight.
Watching her in the kitchen, eyes glowing brand new
Now everything is a memory
Painted deep blue.
Back at the flat i dream a hug will come
A spark from her touch to heat this body numb.
Where is one night of stars to romance
She'll blow me a kiss as the world still rants.
My unknown love is waiting for me
All i need is her smile
And i'm flying free
Back at the flat my daydream ends
I cast my fate to the wind
And pray it ascends.
poem by Kevin East
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But She Knew
But I know
she said
that you love me
and you were sitting
by the pond
you with that cheap fishing rod
which caught nothing
and she sitting there
her hands over her knees
gazing at the still surface
even if you don’t
say it often
she added
laying her chin
on her knees
her green skirt
just above her knees
and you caught
a glimpse of her thighs
where the skirt rose up
I do you love
you said
holding the rod
between hands
it’s just I don’t see the need
to keep on saying it
you added
stretching your eyes
to go as far
as they could
to get a better look
and she said
why do you come here
to fish when you catch
nothing except a cold
in the neck
and stiff joints
and do you want a smoke?
She pulled out
a pack of cigarettes
and you let a hand free
from the rod
and took one
and she put one
between her lips
and lit it with a pink
plastic lighter
then lit yours
and you both
inhaled and exhaled
the smoke rising
over the pond
seeming to sit there
in the still air
and she said
between drags
I do know you love me
I can feel it
in my bones
and in my tingling
flesh at night
as I lay abed
and you thought
of that image
knowing her mother
would be about
the house
with her stern features
and sharp tongue
and beady eyes
but the image was good
you thought
sitting there beside her
in silence
with the drifting smoke
over the pond
and her hand
touching you
and the sky
turning from
dull grey
to a soft blue.
poem by Terry Collett
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Fishing For Snoek (Un-Wreath Sonnet)
Somewhat slightly the shore, the lights ebb away
waves toss and play while the moon shines brightly
in darkness nightly the stars glitter over Table Bay
and the wind is blown only somewhat lightly.
Without mistake the boat furrows, up and down
holding its own spreads some foam in its wake,
in I take the vastness of great Cape Town,
God we trust; the sea lies flat as a lake
and its night, the swells are easier on us
like some dust hangs the early grey twilight,
it’s a sight deck-boards filled like a bus
and thus lines sing into the last of night
the boat is bright green with apparatus
going into action up to daylight.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cool An Green An Shady
This song was first released on the back home again album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Saturdays holidays, easy afternoon
Lazy days, summer days
Nothin much to do
Rainy days of better days
Hangin out inside
Rainy days and city ways
Make me want to hide some place
Cool an green an shady
Find yourself a piece of grassy ground
Lay down close your eyes
Find yourself and maybe lose yourself
While your free spirit flies
Find yourself a piece of grassy ground
Lay down close your eyes
Find yourself and maybe lose yourself
While your free spirit flies
August skies are lullabies, promises to keep
Dandelions and twisting vines
Clover at your feet
Memories of aspen leaves
Trembling in the wind
Honeybees and fantasies
Where to start again some place
Cool an green an shady
Cool an green an shady
Cool an green an shady
Cool an green an shady
Cool an green an shady
Cool an green an shady
Cool an green an shady
Words and music by john denver and joe henry
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
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Fishes
Fishes serene
Comfortable.....swim
Free these creatures
Swimming wild?
NO! ...in the fish pond
food thrown is man's send
Water changed
Beautiful his surroundings made
Greens provided
Friends to play
Fish in pond
In heaven of its own?
Truth?
A captive for the rest of his life
Even the fish
Pays for his comforts
In kind....
yet how serene..........
_____________________________ ___________
poem by Malini Kadir
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The River of Me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
That Cheyenne Bodie was ten feet tall
His voice so deep it filled a hall
And that was who I dreamed I’d be
Until Cochise came on the scene
There was ice on the river and ice on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
The fields were full of cows, corn or wheat
The air was thick with bees and heat
The summer lasted all year long
I never knew til it was gone
And then of course came that high school girl
Her glances made my river swirl
More complex than the universe
I never knew what she’d do next
There was light on the river and light on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
And up we soared towards the sky
Through songs and dancing by and by
My waterfalls and waves ran high
For just the winking of an eye
And in the distance the quiet sea
was waiting on the river me
And on the banks the weeds grew tall
Where rusting leaves began to fall
Now there’s night on the river and night on the pond
And the singing nun is long since gone
There are trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And memories in the river of me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
Matchmaker
Behind my house there is a quaint little pond
And every time it rains a little green frog responds
I know that he is lonely and cries into the night
He is longing to find a mate to be complete and all right
The heat is sweltering and he swims on afternoons
Longing for the rain during the night to voice his tunes
Sometimes he is resting on a moist mossy green rock
Looking around aware of his biological clock
On the other side there is a creek behind the pool
There is a small green frog all alone and it's cruel
So I went and captured the one by my pond
And brought it over to the creek to make a bond
Now my nights are filled with silence and peace
And one would think my good night's rest would increase
But instead I was wondering if the frogs getting along
Because if not - then what I did was totally wrong
This morning my neighbor that lives by the creek
Came over to complain about the noise at night's peak
She said that there is a whole family of green frog's right there
She will never know how happy I am about that - I swear
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Do Not Be Like A Stagnant Pond
do not be like a stagnant
pond. the fish dies there and the moss
rots and the air carries the stink
to your nostrils
always like change
make change
let changes occur
a change for the better
or if not just keep on changing
your shape your form
your odor your scent
your mind
do not freeze like ice
instead be like air
or smoke or a sigh
or a breath
keep flowing with the
ways of this universe
and those that
surround you
let them know that
they cannot put you
inside a cage
inside a mold
and then they will call you
an it.
they will fix you a name
and then you become so stuffed
like a toy, a doll,
something so dull
and boring
keep yourself open like
a
flower blooming fully
on its last day
do not close
do not ever think that you die
keep the present
it is yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fish of a Different Color
Big fish and small fish
Swimming here in this pond
Fast fish and slow fish
And now one is gone
Poor, foolish fishes
Just make a few stronger
And watch how these fishes
Devour each other
To be the small fish
I'm sure none would bother
But oh, don't you wish
You could make the pond smaller?
I've found my own niche
To live my life fuller
For I am a fish
Of a different color
The Duck Pond
There's a pond at the centre of the village green,
Where ducks, moorhen and coot can be seen.
It's a feature which adds to the character and charm.
When sat by the pond, you feel a real sense of calm.
Pond-skaters and other small insects on the water skate:
The surface tension supporting their miniscule weight.
Waving their heads, the long, lush, green reeds,
Provide partial shelter for a fish as it feeds.
A frog pops its head up and looks around,
Then slips back under the water with a plopping sound.
Darting this way and that, are beautiful blue dragonflies:
Their motion so quick, they're gone in the blink of an eye.
There's sweet gallingale, marsh marigold and watercress,
But, for me, the pretty pink water lilies are by far the best.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The timetable of four
The golden glows of sunlight hit me
The smell of freshly cut grass reached me
The sight of freedom exhilarated me
The sounds of birds intrigued me
The beauty around me radiated from everything
The long open stretches of grass
The shady woodlands going on and on
The unending number of livening creatures
The cawing raven in the tree branches
The worm busily digging in the soil
The fish swimming idly in the pond
The child playing happily in the park
It is summer now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Autumn
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are playing in the heaps of leaves
The leaves have all gone a golden colour
The ravens are searching for bugs in the leaves
The fish are swimming slower in their pond
It is Autumn now but it will soon change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Winter
I’ll still be in my tree
There are no children playing
There are no leaves on the trees
The ravens have all gone south
There are no fish in the pond
It is Winter now but it will soon change
It will soon change
It will soon change into spring
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are starting to come back
The ravens are backing cawing in the trees
There is new fish in the pond
There are new buds on the trees
It is Spring now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Summer
I’ll still be in my tree
Waiting
Watching
Writing
Thinking
Your Catfish Friend
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond.I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond?It seems like
a perfect place for them."
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Be a part of me
as the fish swims into the sea and find its way to
feed and happy, the water Lilies breathe in the dirty
pond to grow into a beautiful flower, of where the
bird wants to sip its sweet drops of crystal water
gland
as the wind blew, thrown into the big ocean and the
clouds swings beneath the golden sun; the wave
roll on to the dazzling seashore, waiting each
pebbles to dance in the sand; rumble, sizzling,
goggling under the hot sunny day
as the perfume smell in every corner of your
body, the door that open makes my day complete,
the food that taste so sweet leaves every memories
of who you would be in the heart that is free, your
the passion that hovers in my knee, you’re the star in
every night in the sky I see, for everything my dear
you believe in me, you’re the one I always die with
thee
now the roses have fully grown in the garden its
residue and the flower bloom so beautiful, as you
can touch and smell as you catch, believe that I am
always in the end waiting for you in every command
I remain so true, wonder you bring me through, as I
love you, for you’re always be part of me in
everything I will be, my true and dear
WIFE......I love you
poem by Antonio Liao
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The Pond
Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.
Within, your eyes are open. They contain
a memory I recognize, as though
we had been children together. Our ponies
grazed on the hill, they were gray
with white markings. Now they graze
with the dead who wait
like children under their granite breastplates,
lucid and helpless:
The hills are far away. They rise up
blacker than childhood.
What do you think of, lying so quietly
by the water? When you look that way I want
to touch you, but do not, seeing
as in another life we were of the same blood.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Green River
Well, take me back down where cool water flows, yeah.
Let me remember things I love,
Stoppin at the log where catfish bite,
Walkin along the river road at night,
Barefoot girls dancin in the moonlight.
I can hear the bullfrog callin me.
Wonder if my ropes still hangin to the tree.
Love to kick my feet way down the shallow water.
Shoefly, dragonfly, get back tyour mother.
Pick up a flat rock, skip it across green river.
Welllllll!
Up at codys camp I spent my days, oh,
With flat car riders and cross-tie walkers
. old cody, junior took me over,
Said, youre gonna find the world is smouldrin.
And if you get lost come on home to green river.
Welllllll!
Come on home.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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