Exposed
Amazing how words can expose
The heart of the half-man behind them
Revealing a destitute poet/beggar
Wallowing in famined decency, anger.
His words undress in Poverty of beauty
Nagging Profanity and lacking finesse!
Reading his posts invites our Pity
Ignorance and vile in obvious excess!
His profile revealed on all points bulletin
Beware of the bully that lurks within
Pretending to beg but attacks again
Such a mendicant fool enjoys evil Sin.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Venomous Words
If evil could speak,
You'd be its words,
Vile creature you are,
you bend unbendable wills,
You've snapped my thoughts,
with your words of evil.
Your evil speaks,
and cuts me deep,
your words so vile,
you lie a gentle kiss upon my flesh,
then bite my unpenetrable skin,
Your poisons, penetrate,
filling my veins.
like the evil that surges, this venom does to,
finally it reaches my heart,
killing me instantly,
your words like venom,
Spread so violently.
poem by Crimson Love
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Root Of All Evil
Anger,
The root of all evil,
Dwells in your heart.
Anger,
Towards me,
For what I have done.
As time passes,
The anger grows,
Until it has engulfed your,
Entire mind, soul and,
Your entire being.
Irrationality goes hand in hand,
With the anger you,
Conceal in your very,
Troubled heart.
Irrationally you judge,
Irrationally you blame,
But I have irrationally acted,
And I know I have hurt you.
In my own anger,
I have pierced the heart,
That I once cared for,
The heart I once held close,
To my own,
But now that heart,
I have torn.
The words I said,
Have been forgotten,
The anger I felt,
Has been relived,
But you broken still,
Remain.
I am truly sorry,
For my harsh words and,
For my rash actions,
They were only in anger,
And anger,
Is the root of all evil.
poem by Victoria Wozniczka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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More Words
Sometimes words reach out
to help heal wounds.
Sometimes words reach out
just to claw at a feeble soul.
Sometimes words reach out
to seek help.
Sometimes words reach out
to bring life to idleness.
Sometimes words reach out
to expose a lie.
Sometimes words reach out
to undress from its truth.
Sometimes words reach out
for it needs to be spoken.
poem by Janine Alyssa Navarro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Recapture That Innocence Of Loved Missed
To recapture that innocence of loved missed,
May be easier done by a poet doing it.
But when a poet isn't sitting to compose words of love...
The wish for it may be stronger than words can express.
Since words may touch emotions.
But to caress one's flesh...
In an anticipated mutual acceptance,
Is what the poet envisions as best.
For those who are poets,
In a loneliness desired to forget.
Or deny to mask in alibis.
And a poet can decide,
Whether to expose this or hide!
'So what have you chosen to do? '
Lie.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Of Empathy
my shoes are shiny
black
leather and expensive
i look rich and i speak
like a true gentleman
last night i went of the house
without my
Man Friday
and i wore a mask of the
beggar
and i erased my first name
i am Tonio
the mendicant
and i sit upon a corner
with a can on my hand
begging for
mercy
and you pass by
and you never recognize me
and you spit on me
and then i wrote a poem
about the matter
and you say it is the best poem
i have written
and that you pity the beggar
and that you like to do
something about all the beggars
in this world
make a foundation
fund a cause
and i stop reading the poem
and then
i begin to ask
'who are you? '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0396 The Almost Unknown Language
I like to think that
there's a language
which is unspoken, unwritten
except
on rare occasions when a poet
puts two words together or
sometimes even
a whole line
which haunts the reader
beyond sense, even
beyond understanding and
beyond beauty as perceived and
beyond truth as previously revealed
but good beyond hope and yet
not beyond a shiver of delight and
the poet has heard it
in the space between the thoughts
in the space between the words
in the silence between the thoughts
in the silence between the words
and somewhere very wonderful
two beings we've never seen
look at each other
and smile
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I read another poet I could not understand
I READ ANOTHER POET I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND
I read another poet I could not understand
The metaphors racing one after the other
The eternal thoughts taking on a new particular dress
Words and more words
Lines and more lines
Rushing toward meaning and beauty.
And in it all my simple not understanding,
My waiting to hear words that would return to me-
My understanding
That only by my own effort
By my reading again and again
By my willing to believe
Could I make another poet real.
But do I want another poet to be real
When I am a question,
And when there are already others real for me also?
Oh selfish little man oh poor poor reader-
Write your poem alone again
As if no one but you will ever be able to write
The poems which are real.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passionate Poverty
To some people poverty makes you repulsive
Because you own no tangible property to share;
Nothing to entertain and feed their compulsive
Profligacy of which you're unaware.
Poverty makes you glitter and truly
Human and affectionate because you value people
For who they are and their true worth, really
And from your heart and soul altruism quintuple.
Poverty peels off humbug and complacency
To expose the deeper layers of personality
Filled with genuine compassion and human decency
And poverty befriends simplicity, humanity and humility.
poem by John Sensele
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The novelist and the poet
the difference between
the poet and the novelist
the former invites you
straight into his world
a canvas that takes
words for paint
humour for techniques
realism for images
the novelist
on the other hand
flatters you with
his intelligence
but takes the liberty
to hide behind
each of his creation/character
hard it would be to
find the man in
the maze of his words
you would gain more
hunting for him in town
the novelist is a
calculative trader
seizing any idea that could
help him sell his words
the humble poet though has
to sniff out his real self, his own god-instilled rhythm,
to let us share his adventures, colours, dreams
the novelist craft words for money
the poet craft words - to find himself and shares it with those -
who wish to find their own selves
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Famous Last Words Of A Fool
I told her I wouldnt miss her at all
As she walked to the door
I couldnt care less
If she didnt care anymore
And with tears in my eyes, I lied
I was glad we were through
As she drove away cryin at the famous last words of a fool
Famous last words of a fool
Famous last words of a fool
You wont break my heart and I dont love you
The famous last words of a fool.
The first night without her would be easy
I kept telling myself
All the while dying
At the thought of her lying somewhere else
Therell be nothing to it
Ill easily find someone new
As my breaking heart echoed the famous last words of a fool
Repeat chorus
You wont break my heart and I dont love you
The famous last words of a fool
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Poetic Limits
Can words depict the true beauty of things?
Can words describe the truth of every scene?
Can words expound the hearts of all earthlings?
Can words decode the joy of things unseen?
Can words bring out the beauty of music?
Can words suffice to explain mysteries?
Can words repaint the beauty of a ‘pic’?
Can words spell out the taste of foods/berries?
And yet, the poet slogs with words and sounds;
With mastery and skills, unique, unknown;
And takes the reader’s hearts to divine grounds,
Or earthly terrains akin to their own.
Kudos to Bards! Who pen and sing supreme,
To create things felt/seen or in a dream.
9-21-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Tried To Shackle My Words
A poet tried to shackle my words,
as if from every poem
the message was stripped,
as if nowhere there was any mastery
of rhythm and sound to be found
as if I had sold my soul
to masses of people reading my verses,
as if I live in disrespect
to the expertise that a great poet
displays in his work
as if every line of mine
was just a wild cacophony
that I had flung together
in a utter hurry
to shower down on crowds of people.
Yet I while I swam against a tempest sea,
sticking to the truth and integrity,
trying to find answers to life’s mysteries
and problems
trying to expose injustice and oppression
there was boasting about a elitis clique
that totally excludes me
but they were going along the path
of political correctness and maybe indifference,
being far too scared to ruffle some feathers,
writing verses sixty times over and over
before they were becoming poems somehow,
before their words were catching some magic
believing that a great poem,
is like a jigsaw puzzle,
that you have got to unravel
with a dictionary,
where simple words can fuse together
with a own type of magic,
lacking in the ability
to find poetry in ordinary things,
to create poetry in lines
that by themselves fuses together
to create something great
but my words kept on coming,
falling into lines,
as if designed by a divine presence
and by themselves fused
into much deeper meaning
than I could find with my own abilities.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pity The Fool
I pity the fool
Yeah, I pity the fool
That falls in love with you
And expects you to be true
Thats why I pity that fool
Chorus:
look at the people
i know you wonder what theyre doing
theyre just standing there
watching you make a fool of me
(repeat chorus)
Oh, I pity the fool
Yeah, I pity the fool
Hey, I pity the fool
I pity the fool that falls in love with you
Hell break your heart one day
And hell laugh and go on his way
Thats why I pity that fool
(repeat chorus)
I pity the fool...
I pity the fool that gives her heart to you
Hell take her heart away
And hell find another fool to play
Thats why I pity that fool
(repeat chorus)
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Living or the Dead
Living poets with wasted words
Succumb to a famined rhyme-
For lack of better choice accord
Poetry so laced with grime.
Dead poets wrote with mastery
And excellently lines conveyed
Thoughts abundantly in beauty
Wisdom dressed in lines arrayed.
What then do we now impart?
Our pen in utter destitution?
Better from this life depart
If one writes in vile corruption.
.............. ................................................. .........................
'Every job is a self-portrait of the person who does it.'
(anonymous)
......................... ................................................. .........
April 14,2008
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem about poetry - the poetic space
i love you
the amateur poet
wrote on the site
without revealing himself
i love you
the world known poet
wrote on the site
without revealing himself
and i read both
the second somehow
has a larger resonance
destined to be great?
the greater poet
has even carved
for himself a space
that recognises all his words
that space in me and you
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery Beauty allures the poet;
Poet waits a while for a little delight.
Admires the art of creations;
Pervading the mystery of Beauty she frees tension.
Silvery Beauty allures delightfully;
Poet drinks the nectar of Beauty gaily.
The vehicle waits a while on the path;
Poet enchants with mirth.
Beauty is a gift of Almighty;
Lover enjoys with Delight.
Beauty enchants mind, heart miraculously;
Lover functions duty delightfully.
Poet heart reminisces Beauty’s face with gaiety;
He derives peace and delight;
All beautiful things are attracting;
In the lap of Nature are delighting.
Beauty appears with peace and pleasure;
Contents lover’s desire.
Beauty is a Deity;
Lover prays with gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Anonymous....
when i look at you for
a long time
i feel pity for you
somehow you do not
deserve this
i am at a loss of words
i want to tell you
everything
you are always silent
and i like you for that
and then i look at myself
a very long searching gaze
and there is anger there
somehow i must have done
you
injustice, and the pity expands
like an oil pollution spilling to the
ocean
many innocent birds suffer
and waddle in
the helplessness of their
situation
i want to be away from you
to pull you out from me
but that is impossible because
you are myself
you are in me
and i am in you
we are one and somehow
we are beginning to be a dichotomy of
two words
it is not the either or of the
situation
it is the immersion of an
impossibility of
a separation
i am you and
you are i,
no one has ever escaped on this
phenomenon
not even in the syntax of
our human grammar
our way of using words as
forms of liberation
or escape the way they tell us
that you and i
can be free in some unknown
or undiscovered formulation
i look at you with pity
and you look at me with anger
the two blend together
in the inevitable acceptance of who we
really are
we are one
in two mouths
our hands remain
a pair of
helpless parts
two people are talking
within
this one soul one body
anonymous.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What My Heart Wants To Say
you're amazing
so amazing
have I told you
enough
you're my angel
guardian angel
god knows I've been blessed with love
but if I been gone tomorrow
would you know how deep my loves goes
have I ever told you
you're the one
if the words don't come my way
hope its still love
hope it still shows
if the words don't come my way
hope you still know what my heart wants to say
words so tender
I surrender
to this feeling
so true
my affirmation
my inspiration
darling I have been blessed with you
if the words don't come my way
hope you still know
hope it still shows
if the words don't come my way
I hope you still know what my heart wants to say
but if I be gone tomorrow
would you know how deep my loves goes
if I was gone forever
would you know how much I care
you make me feel like flying
and failing all emotion
that everytime you look at me
you see it in my eyes
if the words don't come my way
I hope you still know
if the words don't come my way
I hope you still know
I hope it still shows
if the words don't come my way
I hope you still know
what my heart wants to say
if the words don't come my way
I hope you still know
hope it still shows
if the worst don't come my way
I hope you still know
I hope it still shows
I hope still you know
what my heart wants to say
song performed by by Gareth Gates from What My Heart Wants To Say
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet's Answer Is the Poem
The poet’s answer is the poem
Even when Poetry is irrelevant-
The poet reads the situation
As if its soul can be told in words-
The poet is a fool of course
Enslaved to what he is and what he does
He makes the poem everything
When sometimes it is nothing at all-
I am that poet I suppose
I am that fool certainly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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