Just Poetry...Period
Poetry is setting yourself free
To pour out like vintage wine
The myriad thoughts that you see
And cup them in words and lines
To be drank in sheer revelry
Poetry turns you into a painter
Imagined scenes in the mind arrayed
Distant lands, places you remember
Colors of life so abundantly laid
The joy, and tears, or love's dying ember.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poem by Mark R Slaughter

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Man Became Addicted To Poetry
A MAN BECAME ADDICTED TO POETRY
A man became addicted to poetry-
Wherever he went he read or wrote a few lines-
Poetry became much of what he did-
Poetry and poetry and poetry-
As if that alone could give meaning and pleasure to his life.
A man became addicted to poetry
And so lost at times
What true poetry is –
Now he writes without knowing
Whether he is truly writing
Or merely using the ‘idea and world of poetry’
For his own peace of mind.
poem by Shalom Freedman

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Never You
Over my decades of sojourn on earth
There is but a lesson I've come to
learn;
Is that you never, never, never quarrel
with a poet
For he takes you up, puts you in a pot
Season you, and finally, he eats you up
with his words.
His tongue is cursed and poisoned
Like a warring deadly disease.
DO YOU.. DO YOU.. DO YOU really think
That poets are as friendly like you think,
Well, listen now friend, let me tell
You a little secret about poetry.
Like philosophy, it could be quite
contradictory.
My mentor Mr. Taban Lo Liyong
Would say: poetry is not a song
That a lover sings to a love of his
He only wishes for a bite or a kiss
But yet, let us sit and ponder on it
Taban was right about poetry;
It is a science, with rules like we
have in mathematics.
Thoughts arranged in lines are
called poetry,
Nobody writes poetry,
You only utter your thoughts
With much love for the world.
So we can now say poetry and
thoughts are one.
Never let a poet eat you up
With his thoughts or his words
For in his heart lies an abyss
And a void, like we have in Tartarus.
poem by Efe Benjamin

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At the Poetry Class
I read their poems at dawn
In the still quiet hours, alone
To savor the meter and the rhyme
Of their poetry stored in time.
A myriad thoughts and styles
Their pens bring tears and smiles
A kaleidoscope wrought in words
From the passion that writing accords.
For poetry is like the best wine
That you have as you leisurely dine
Each little sip is one you enjoy
Each line is one that brings you joy.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
poetry
poetry
poetry poetry poetry
poetry poetry poetry
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry
poetry poetry poetry
poetry
poetry
poem by Mark R Slaughter

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry Is Movement Without Effort
Poetry is movement without effort
Poetry should take you to places far beyond what your eyes can see
Take you to places where you can be free
Poetry is movement without effort
All you have to do is think and feel
and it will move you
and make your experiences real
poetry can cause pictures to form in your mind
speak a thousand verbs, a thousand nouns, or a thousand rhymes
all written for you to experience on a personal level
poetry is a journey
to self discovery
out of a thousand doorways to roads never walked travelled or taken
poetry can cause your eyes and your heart to awaken
remind you of a friend’s love remind you that your never forsaken
because while you live you can experience life to the full
poetry is movement it is a tool
for cataloguing things seen and unseen
for poetry can be the very fabric from which we dream!
poem by Daniel Hooks

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry has done this to me
And I love the slavery of poetry
For reasons like your better
versification
Or for reasons you shall not
live to see
To me poetry is this huge magnificent
instrument
And poetry has kept me indoors all
day I missed you
And poetry has kept me in front of
this machine
And saved me maybe from the bullet
or the knife
And poetry has taken me to explore
the deepest
Unknown regions of my mind
Never was the search
Of the word so desperate and
pleasurable and so
Hurtful and so exciting and so painful
And poetry has alarmed me to how
cruel my mind is
And poetry has journeyed into my
inner self too to cleanse my soul
And poetry has gone out of her way
to show me
How kind and filled with honey my mind is
I have journeyed to far flung places
guided by
The love of poetry I know myself better now
poem by Ngaka Motaung

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Dont Write Poetry!
i dont write poetry...
i sweat poetry, i drink poetry,
i breathe poetry, i make love to poetry,
i fight poetry, i eat poetry,
i bleed poetry, i crap poetry...
too often i betray poetry,
sometimes i dropp poetry.
once i tripped over poetry,
got angry and kicked poetry.
i rocked poetry on a sleepless night,
i buried poetry on the hill...
i lived poetry, for i am poetry...
no, i dont write poetry,
but poetry writes me!
poem by Eric Cockrell

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
18 Definitions Of Poetry
1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime
poem by Shalom Freedman

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetic Catalysis
poetry ever perpetuating cup overflowing...
poetry more poetry devoured consumed...
poetry more poetry abundantly perpetuates...
poem by Terence George Craddock

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Altered Perception
My drug of choice is poetry.
I need no chemicals to fly.
Imagination is the key
which leads me into fantasy.
I have no need to break the laws
because I choose a different course.
I can get high on poetry.
A pleasure that’s completely free.
Why use adulterated drugs
and join the ranks of ripped off mugs.
Why should you spend your hard earned brass?
on coke or horse or even grass.
When all you need is poetry
to set your restless spirit free.
Rise to the sky on wings of words
and emulate the flight of birds.
Who recognise no boundaries
they’re free to fly just where they please.
I can alter my state of mind
by reading poetry I find
From all my worries find release
and for a little time find peace
and oftentimes sheer ecstasy
Anaesthetised by poetry.
21-Jan-07
poem by Ivor .e Hogg

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
Poetry is the air I breathe
Poetry is the words that feed
My soul
To make me whole
Poetry is what makes me blossom
In the middle of spring
Poetry is what grows my garden
And makes it flourish with nature
Beauty
Poetry Is
My magical whim's that supply all my
Fantasy and fills my hopes and dreams
Poetry is the strong desire that keep the
Flames of love burning
In the midst of the hour
And lights up the sky
With beautiful hues of colours
Spreads from one globe to
Another
To swim the ocean deep
Just because of love
Poetry is that and more, which I
Hate to carry this on and on
But
Poetry is the love of our life that visit
Us in our dreams
Poetry is
Me and the worlds that wakes every
Morning to bloom and blossom
Even after the death has played it last
Song that breaks our hearts
Poetry is tears and moans
Grief and pain that Hunt's the
Soul
Poetry is the rain crying from
The sky
The sun the moon with the golden
Light
Poetry is a child laughter at play
The tears a child shreds in sadness
They cry
Poetry is just a book of songs you
And I write down in our journal
Each and every day
We
Mix them together again and again
That is poetry
Poetry is life woes
Life happiness
Poetry is life
Here now and after
Poetry is you and I
poem by Carolyn Sears

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is Poetry?
A language of the heart
Its touch of words immense!
The emotions it imparts
Bears truth, or some pretense.
However read, it connects
With a message there to show.
Of myriad thoughts or objects,
In poetic lines they flow.
I have no vain expertise
I just love Poetry with passion,
And my words may be amiss
But purpose there finds fruition.
Yes, anyone can dance
To the tune of Poetry!
Inspired, find there romance
Or friendship and harmony.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Words of liberation for my nation
Chains of slavery are still over my people.
Notorious minds still over power innocent minds.
What can free the black child, what can free my nation?
I ask in pain and suffering in the dark jail cells,
What can free me from mental slavery?
How to know right from wrong?
How to think free and build a free society?
The solution is in the words of liberation, the words of wisdom.
I write and recite a revolution, my revolution my poetry.
I do n’t need praises or worship but only recognition and understanding of the people to words of liberation, understanding of poetry.
I stand before you to present poetry,
I stand before you to present the words of liberation to my nation.
Poetry that builds, poetry that destroys.
Poetry that destroyed the impious minds of colonists in Rhodesia.
I speak of poetry that built freedom in South Africa.
When I speak of poetry I mean the true meaning of words.
Words of wisdom,
Words of freedom,
Words of liberation,
Words to free my nation.
The words of liberation to my nation
Words of liberation to free my generation
Poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry.
poem by zimi Nakeni

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry Unlimited
Poetry is looking,
at a flower and,
seeing the beauty
hidden within.
Poetry is bringing
out love, deep in
your heart, telling
your love one how you feel.
Poetry is feeling
a cool breeze
as you lie in an open
field, so deep in thought.
Poetry is seeing
the beauty of soft
fluffy white clouds
as no one else does.
Poetry is hearing
sounds of nature
soaking it all in
to mind and soul.
Poetry is watching and
standing by river's edge
seeing rippling water
flowing to places unknown.
Poetry is gazing at
rolling hills stretching
as far, as the eye
can see.
Poetry is digging
deep into inter feelings
bringing it out
and exposing it.
Poetry is love
Poetry is feelings
Poetry is seeing
Poetry is what you are.
Drops Of Poetry
Drops of Poetry,
on my mind,
soaking in memories,
of things I remember,
of long ago.
Pouring down drops
on to my heart, releasing
my inner thoughts,
from this soul I have,
to write things that
must be told,
love that escaped
from my life, never
more to be seen.
Hurt, tears, broken
dreams torn away
from me, like a falling
star that becomes
just dust in the air.
Drops of Poetry so
clear is it now,
my body so wet,
from these drops
of poetry that stands,
all around me,
in the mist that
i now see,
my whole body
has been cleansed,
from all of these
drops of poetry.
wrote 3-15-07