Substance
Today, this pen has the chance,
Its moment of eternal worth -
To weave some words of Substance,
Perhaps in Wisdom, carried forth.
One opportunity to touch and be
A blessing, with Inspiration write,
Messages of Hope, of nature's Beauty-
Images abound for thought and sight.
It will not waste its time or purpose
For days are leaves that soon may fall.
Its ink may dry and in Death, repose
Till then, it remains true to its call.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Once Again I Write...
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
I write to save my sanity.
I write to ease my heart.
I write to cleanse my soul.
I write to feel alive.
I write to keep my mind strong and my thoughts clear.
I write my words of sorrow, despair, pain, and love, as well as words of wisdom.
I write so that one day someone will truly know me.
This paper, this pen is once again my inspiration.
It is the inspiration to what I see.
It is the inspiration to what I hear.
It is the inspiration to what I feel.
It is the inspiration to the art I create.
It is the inspiration to what I draw.
It is the inspiration to the love for my daughter.
It is the inspiration to the love for my husband.
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
Once again I write to say thank you my timeless friends.
Thank you for saving me time and time again.
poem by Sara Jo Andrews
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inspiration..
Inspiration comes and goes.
I write it down or I’ll forget while searching for a pen.
Inspiration comes and goes.
I get is from dreams or experiences.
Inspiration comes and goes.
But tell me, what inspires you.
I’m inspired by beauty, love and lust.
Giving me words and thought I dare to trust.
It’s inspiration that separates me from the rest.
‘Cause when inspiration comes words fall into place.
And things are beginning to make sense.
Sometimes I’m inspired by sorrow.
When I’m waiting in my bed for tomorrow.
And words start to become sentences.
I will start to write just to understand.
And to make me feel better so I can go to bed again.
Sometimes I write because of a pain that runs so deep.
I write cryptic lyrics about the secrets I keep.
I express them in other words so no one will understand.
But they feel not knowing what I’m trying to tell.
It’s a just way to clear my conscience.
Sometimes I write how the world could be.
Or I write about the girl of my fantasy.
Then I’m inspired by a fragment of my imagination.
And now I told a few ways where I get my inspiration.
So now tell me what inspires you.
poem by Rick Adriolo
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Encouragement - Double Acrostic
Each new day is a rare chance at LifE
Not merely an accident, lightly takeN.
Considering death is our cul de saC
Obviously our Fate, that's eventually sO.
Use each moment then to bless all round yoU
Remember on earth, you won't stay foreveR.
Always bring Kindness as a sort of mannA
Grace your words with love as a blessinG.
Every moment holds opportunity therE
Many are hurting, with words you can touch theM.
Even across miles, Goodness knows no fencE,
Now is the time for Man's care to be giveN.
Truly as the night comes, you sleep in contentmenT.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Something Good To Do And Say
Where is the opportunity
To let what 'was' go?
To know that today...
Has more purpose than yesterday.
Right now,
In this moment.
Let us be in 'it' without delay!
Where is the opportunity
To say what was 'is' done?
Nothing gained is more rewarding...
Than to know something fresh has begun!
Beating dead horses and riding slow turtles,
To make a point that will never be won!
Doesn't do a thing when slinging aged mud...
To accomplish an understanding,
Misunderstood.
Let us leave it alone...
Like we should!
Where is the opportunity
To let what 'was' go?
To know that today...
Has more purpose than yesterday.
Right now,
In this moment.
Let us be in 'it' without delay!
Right now,
In this moment...
Help me help us,
Find something good to do and say!
You must be tired,
Like I know I am...
To discover in review,
Nothing 'fresh' or new to be pursued!
And reliving past emotions feed,
A time that is not returning...
We should leave as is and let it be!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Death by Beauty
Beauty is the source of all things in day,
but then Death comes to take our sight away.
Beauty is the sower of love and peace,
then Death comes a knocking so it can reap.
Beauty 's in the eye of the beholder,
but Death comes when all that mess is over.
Most think that all hope has run astray,
when death makes true beauty fade away;
but I am here to tell you the truth,
that beauty will always be in you.
Beauty is such a magical thing;
It happens when the soul laughs and sings.
Death is such a horrible sight.
Death makes moods colder than dry ice.
The world can always devour
a beautiful flawless flower.
so, The price you pay for beauty's sin
is the kiss of Death upon your chin.
poem by Wesley Garrett
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The Complaint: or Night Thoughts (excerpt)
By Nature's law, what may be, may be now;
There's no prerogative in human hours.
In human hearts what bolder thought can rise,
Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn?
Where is to-morrow? In another world.
For numbers this is certain; the reverse
Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps,
This peradventure, infamous for lies,
As on a rock of adamant we build
Our mountain hopes, spin out eternal schemes
As we the Fatal Sisters could out-spin,
And big with life's futurities, expire.
Not ev'n Philander had bespoke his shroud,
Nor had he cause; a warning was deny'd:
How many fall as sudden, not as safe!
As sudden, though for years admonish'd home.
Of human ills the last extreme beware;
Beware, Lorenzo, a slow-sudden death.
How dreadful that deliberate surprise!
Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer;
Next day the fatal precedent will plead;
Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life.
Procrastination is the thief of time;
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
The vast concerns of an eternal scene.
If not so frequent, would not this be strange?
That 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still.
Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears
The palm, "That all men are about to live,"
For ever on the brink of being born,
All pay themselves the compliment to think
They, one day, shall not drivel: and their pride
On this reversion takes up ready praise;
At least, their own; their future selves applauds;
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead!
Time lodg'd in their own hands is Folly's vails;
That lodg'd in Fate's to Wisdom they consign.
The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone.
'Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool,
And scarce in human wisdom to do more.
All promise is poor dilatory man,
And that through every stage; when young, indeed,
In full content we sometimes nobly rest,
Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish,
As duteous sons our fathers were more wise.
At thirty man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought
Resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same.
poem by Edward Young
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Dare to Live
Today might be the day you die.
So seize each opportunity
That’s offered you and don’t ask why
But grasp each moment eagerly.
Why vacillate and hesitate.
Waste time wondering if you should
You will regret when it’s too late.
You did not do it when you could
We all do things that we regret.
We have to make our own mistakes
Learn lessons that we won’t forget.
Experience is all it takes.
Take a chance do it today
Another chance won’t come your way.
26/07/2009
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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God's Poets A Good Poem & Love
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Spirit Of Freedom
(realising the new world)
I know instinctively
When something is right
With no one there to save me
You came into my life
The words you whispered
Still echo in my mind
Forget about tomorrow
Forget about time
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
So good to breathe the air and
Feel that life is worth living
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
So good to see the truth and touch
The spirit of freedom
I never thought that
I could ever feel this way
To see the warmest sunlight
On a cold and rainy day
Dawn wakes the silence
And I know that I cant wait
To hear the words
I wanna say again and again
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
So good to breathe the air and
Feel that life is worth living
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
So good to breathe the air and
Feel that life is worth living
Theres no time to waste in this life
Theres no time at all
So good to be alive and touch
The spirit of freedom - in your soul
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The September 19th
I was the favorite of them all
They knew i will always stand tall
and never will i fall
ON TILL THAT SEPTEMBER 19
I had played the hero
I never knew i will be down to zero
ON TILL SEPTEMBER 19
I got to know my true friend
those i thought, wanted my end
they were always playing second
how could i know? if not for that day
SEPTEMBER 19
were all fall apart
Just 8 days to my lovers birthday
just 8 day for a dream to come true
27 was all i got, but the storm got rude
now it was like, i stop to exist
i saw my name in death list
tears flow as my thought went freeze
ALL ON THE SEPTEMBER 19
Now all i got is my bible and me
Just a friend that i can't see
gave me hope has i read
a friend and a lover
poem by Duke Perry Abrokwa
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Singing For The New Born
You're my life's treasure this day
So will ever be you all days
Like the fencing wind soothing
Saving all lives abound
Livening all lives so lovable..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's pleasure this day
So will ever be you all days
Like a blooming flower fragrant
Turning to a fruit yummy
Lovable much to all and whole..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's favour this day
So will ever be you all days
Like the new rains heavenly
Freshening the loam so lush
Lovely with lavish love adored..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's healer this day
So will ever be you all days
Like the handy salve treating
Healing the wounded well cured
Sought after much with needs..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
You're my life's salvor this day
So will ever be you all days
Like a magician godly in a wink
Weeding the wild from peace field
Lovingly loving the whole world..
May my hope come true
May my hope come true
For The Forthcoming New Year-
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Unwavering
In a world where hearts can waver, we serve an unchanging Savior,
Who walks ahead strong and tall, to lift believers up when they fall.
Christ, the same today as yesterday, Christ is faithful in every way.
With a heart which changes never, Christ remains the same forever.
Changing times and varying roles, in the world even changes souls,
Following what this world may say, can even lead a Believer astray.
But always near and always true, Christ’s there to always guide you,
Back to this world’s only stable place, on the Rock by God’s Grace.
Saving Grace in God’s economy, remains the same for you and me,
God’s Grace, unchanging as it is, in fact changes sinners, to be His.
Grace which reaches near and far, to accept anyone where there are,
Moving us into God’s own family; into Christ’s Kingdom for Eternity.
The Grace which Christ unfurled, is still the same in a changing world,
As His unchanging Revelation, remains true and sure to every nation.
With God’s purpose set into stone, to build a Church, to call His own,
With all of those called out from, the world, to remain true to His Son.
As this world changes, be assured, there is a true stability in our Lord,
And in this Truth we can proclaim, through the power of Christ’s name,
As His Eternal Truth sets men apart, instilling The Spirit into their heart,
For the unchanged purpose in life, unwavering service to Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©11/2007)
Words
I write there, and then you write they’re
I write who, and then you write whom
I misspell my words, too me you then curse
Then you call me a stupid loon.
You call me names, from which I refrain
Then I am off to a different room.
I forget punctuation's, It gives you frustrations
I don't use a contraction, you give me verbal action
Then I misspell a word, you call me absurd
I give you my silence it’s my only reaction.
You call me a name, my innocence I proclaim
My humility is seems, is your only satisfaction.
I sit at my typewriter, I still am a fighter
As I close my eyes, words still materialize
Words are my friends, rhyming is my sin
Maybe someday that, you will realize.
I finish another poem, to the world I show them
I write another verse, it becomes my universe.
You are my inspiration, my poems your creation
You correct what I write, it gives you such delight
You enjoy to respell, at words which you excel
You tell me they are wrong, I know you are right.
But you still are my friend, I hope it will never end
I am the poet, your a wordsmith and you show it.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Brephos
Although it is easy for one to think, it is not always easy for one to write
Not all thoughts can be expressed into words, nor should they. Rousseau said in his solitary walks or was it his confessions? That his most beautiful thoughts died in him as quick as he thought them and how he at the time wished he had a pen in hand to write them all down. Those thoughts are dead, but perhaps those same thoughts are born in others written down somewhere in all of infinite time. Some thoughts like some lives are not meant to be born. The seed of this thought, watered by my serene tears, germinates in my soul as I write this letter. Still I can't find the words to express its beauty, its paradox, its mystery. The seed germinates but no plant is born, no flower blooms. For every child that isn't born, for every thought trapped in the moral order nature's thought; the ineffable, the unborn, the unknown, I hope one day you find expression and tell the world what you are and what beauty really is—To eloquence that never speaks, to thought that never thinks, to life that never lives, in my heart you speak, think and live.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Forget Today
Forget today my tired soul
imagine you never said those destructive words
another person no longer sees your worth
but tomorrow brings a reason to hope
Forget today my tired soul
pretend you hadn't created your own downfall
you've lost the chance to make a friend
but there's always a chance to make ammends
Forget today my tired soul
wipe the tears that fall from your eyes
Love has once again overlooked our door
but one day her sweet face will be seen again
Forget today my tired soul
don't dwell on the pain that lives within
the clouds are bleak and the sun seems so far away
but I promise you someday we'll have our moment to shine
poem by Deana Rode
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Connected.....
how easy it is
for us to forget,
both the value of each moment,
and the value of each person
that we encounter.
we encounter no one by chance!
what is given, truly given,
remains... not much else matters!
the gift of life
is the gift of touch.
and so many touch our lives,
so many we dont seem to notice.
take the time to listen,
to say thank you,
and to touch in return.
that is what makes us eternal!
we are more connected than we know...
often the suffering we endure is shared.
so must be the freedom.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Aurobindo 167 Savitri Book 11
' A marvellous sun looked down from ecstasy's skies'
Capturing his secret heart-beats of delight.'
'God's everlasting day surrounded her, '
'Infinity's finite fronts she lived in, new
For ever to an everliving sight.'
'Twilight and mist were exiles from that air,
Night was impossible to such radiant heavens.'
A life divine winning over Death to deathless...
'Of all the beauty and the marvel here,
Of all Time's intricate variety
Eternity was the substance and the source; '
A Truth only to be felt and realised...
'Thought's wings climbed up towards heaven's vast repose
Lost in blue deeps of immortality.
A changed earth-nature felt the breath of peace.'
'All thrilled with the immanence of one divine.'
'Ecstatic voices smote at hearing's chords,
Each movement found a music all its own;
'Songs thrilled of birds upon unfading boughs
The colours of whose plumage had been caught
From the rainbow of imagination's wings.
Immortal fragrance packed the quivering breeze.'
Oh, what a wonderful spec with word-beauty..
'She saw all Nature marvellous without fault.'
'The mighty signs of which earth fears the stress,
Trembling because she cannot understand,
And must keep obscure in forms strange and sublime,
Were here the first lexicon of an infinite mind
Translating the language of eternal bliss.'
'The heart was a torch lit from infinity'....
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
(An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Eleven: The Book of Everlasting Day
Canto One: The Eternal Day: The Soul's Choice
and the Supreme Consummation
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's)
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Beauty In You Boils Like Wine Yet You Are So Divine
You are eternal so is love
Everything is for change but not beauty of my love..
Beauty in you is admired by all
Here i'm as adorable not for all..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is you that's true
Honey.. it's true mirror never lies you..
I never lie but can lie for you and
For your happiness can die for you..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is sacred so are you
Beauty is priceless so in you
You are precious but not for the world
Can bet anything to make you my world
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beautiful is you not my life
Your beauty is immortal not my eyes
Oh Mine...
Your beauty is the way to heaven
Show me way to your heart which is next to seven..
Take me the way i am and
make me the way you want..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
You are my love worth to die for
You are my freedom worth to fight for..
I made my guts to compromise
Beauty in you is worth a sacrifice..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
My words can sail but are not for sale
Can sacrifice in love to make you my fairy tale..
This song of mine is only for you my sunshine
I can sing this song specially for you my divine..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
I've signed your name on each dropp of my sweat and
Will dream of you till the last day of my breath..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine..
poem by Dr Vinay Sirigere
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Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life
WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life!
Weave yet a soldier strong and full, for great campaigns to come;
Weave in red blood! weave sinews in, like ropes! the senses, sight
weave in!
Weave lasting sure! weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant
weave! tire not!
(We know not what the use, O life! nor know the aim, the end--nor
really aught we know;
But know the work, the need goes on, and shall go on--the death-
envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on;)
For great campaigns of peace the same, the wiry threads to weave;
We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Caress
I used to be careless
Then I longed for the sweet caress
The freedom, the release
The end of me
It was what I ate every morning
That thought... dying didn't matter, no mourning
What is there to mourn when there's no value?
And what can you value in brokenness
In deceit, in hatred, in lust, in loneliness
All I valued was the caress,
The lovely dark touch
The release, the purpose, the crux
I earnestly waited
I ardently longed
I deeply desired
But one day my whole life changed...
I saw value, I felt value, I saw love, I felt love, joy unfeigned
I cant quite describe it, certainly not it all
It was the day He stopped my fall
But I still longed for the caress
The end to the pain, the end of suffering
I had new reasons now I must confess
But the old remained too
I still earnestly sought to escape, but this time to You
I sough the seemingly easier way out.
Let me just say it outright
I've always juts wanted to die, desired death, eternal night
I sought death, sometimes it was all I thought about...
But today (3-23-12) I finally felt fear
Not only did I not desire death
But I was afraid of it I could not just let
My life go, and I knew You were near
So I didn't want to die, I felt fear
I wanted to give my friend a gift
With hopes to encourage and uplift
I wanted to free my friends from the lie
With truth, love, faith and hope
Not be remembered as 'there for them', just to help them cope
But to free them from bondage
From death so they might have life, no cage
No prison, no lies, no fear, no shame, no death
I want to see them live, I want to live with them
I don't just want to know when
I want to be there
I want to be there when it happens
So I cant die... I won't die, not yet
Not till they know life.
Sorry God if it
s a selfish request or thought
But I fell like this is kingdom You brought
So now I want to bring them in
Please help, I cannot do it alone, not in my sin
But with You I'll take them back
So for the first time in my life I
I don't want to die
Help me show them Your love, let it overwhelm
All of this from a bee
That landed on me
You could say I'm allergic, I could go in a coma or die
I wished that ti would just fly
Away... but in that moment I caught
Myself fearing death, desiring life, I haven't fought
The good fight, I'm fighting
I'm loving
I'm seeking
I'm praying
I'm finally...
Finally
Living
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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