Early Works - Thoughts Of Love
Through the centuries
and years scores, more
scholars and poets
have attained the praise
in line, lyric and verse
of the thoughts of love.
19 July 1995
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
0187: 1580 - Ish
Round 1580 - so some scholars write -
the finest poets of England sought accord
on what fine form of verse might most delight,
and render fullest homage to our Lord.
They found iambics, in a five-foot line
tuned best with English speech to native ears:
more simple, steady, musical in mind
than Racine's stately tread of French hexameters.
The thoughts sublime which these our poets teach
-Sidney's sonnets, Shakespeare's poems and plays -
enter our ears in childhood, shape our speech,
and tune our hearts to hear, and speak, God's ways;
in still and silent rapture there to find
the music of that other world: God's mind.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why People Become Poets Poets Dreams
have you ever wondered why people become poets?
poets have been around since the beginning of time
and they have been mostly men, speaking of their loves, life
and emotions.
famous love stories, plays, movies, all seen thru a poets eyes.
just as the centuries have gone by and everything in life has changed
so have the poets.
there is now as many and if not more female poets
than male poets. why? because they are more sensitive to emotions
and are not afraid to show or speak of it, unlike men who want to
show the 'MACHO MAN IMAGE'
poets see life thru different eyes for different situations
and write about it in so many forms, and see the light and
the darkness in everything, including the good and bad.
it may be just one word, or a line, or verse
that enters their mind to start creating
what will become a poem,
what is the poets dream that you will create?
a love story, a sad story, one of fear or hate, or passion
one of beauty, or war.
so many things to choose from- but it doesn’t matter
what you may choose, you must take the first step.
just as reading this is the first step to start on your way to writing poetry
and opening up your mind and soul.
touching other people and receiving comments
and feedback on your writings will help you to improve
on your weak areas.
some people do it because they are looking for fortune and fame
while others want to communicate with others, and others
just to see their names on something other than
a bill being paid.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lyric
Here comes my faith to carry me on
A faith not of grade
I fight to to stay strong so i
Stand accused of playing numb
I know it is wrong
For I give my strength
I give my heart
Take these chains
And hold them as ours
For I must shine
And I will a star
In a season all mine
A lyric, a time, a crusade, a line
One minute, a friend, a road without end
A lyric, a time, a crusade, a line
One minute, a friend, a road without end
So here is the view
I cast about
Im leaving no room
For you to get out
Youll never get out
Dove, cant you cry without an aside
?
I need you as my way
Across my life
To spend these years
Create a new thought
For I give you strength
And offer my heart
Take these chains
And hold them as ours
For Im a star
And I will shine
In a season all mine
A lyric, a time, a crusade, a line
One minute, a friend, a road without end
A lyric, a time, a crusade, a line
One minute, a friend, a road without end
A lyric, a time, a crusade, a line
One minute, a friend, a road without end
A lyric, a time, a crusade, a line
One minute, a friend, a road without end
A road without end
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Lyrics Of Life
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
poem by Waldon Pond Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Song Is You...
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
Lyrics Of Life
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
Lyrics Of Life
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
Life And Lyrics
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will.
MY Heart Sings...
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
I Hear A Song...
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
Sing Me A Love Song...
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
With A Song In My Heart...
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
©Joe Fazio
My Heart Sings
In the song of life, all lyrics need a melody.
You are the lyric and you are the melody.
You are the lyric of my heart and of my soul.
The beauty of the rose, speaks a lyric of love.
Love, speaks a lyric of you.
The silent lyric of goodness, echoes from within you.
My heart, speaks the lyric of love...to only you.
Let the words...the lyric...that bind, pass between us.
Let the lyric, of you...of me...be as one.
A million words I can speak of you and the lyrics
would be the same...I love you now. I always will
©Joe Fazio
There are successful scholars, public-spirited scholars, upright scholars, cautious scholars, and those who are merely petty men.
Poetry
To those of you who've never read poems
there is a vacancy in your homes.
For poets dream
and poets scream
words that should be said
and never left dead.
They speak of love in artful wonder
and even love that's torn asunder.
They tell the stories that affect the people.
Their hopes, their fears,
the ageing years
their laughing times,
their weeping tears.
Poetry has its own special flow.
If you've never read it you don't know
its magic with word
not silent but heard.
To evoke in the mind
something you find
with rhythm and cadences
allowing your senses
to come alive.
Alive.
Most poets are quiet except with their pen.
They become quite vociferous especially when
conveying to you what they deem to be true.
For poets are sensitive
to all they see.
They speak from the heart
and hope to be
inspirational, controversial
to awaken in you
a picture or image
for your mind to view.
Poems are music and praise for the soul
that hungers and thirsts
for you to become whole.
All of the poets who've come and gone
have left their thoughts and then moved on,
moved on to pursue loftier goals
accompanied by words to soothe their souls.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who to blame for writers block?
Risen up from his cold dark tomb
the malevolent poet is alive again
his evil master has given him power
to confuse poets and bring them pain.
He's invisible to the poets eye
and he doesn't make a sound
his mission is to bring writers block
to all poets everywhere around.
The unaware poet stares at a blank screen
unable to create one single verse
the satanic force takes over his mind
his thoughts go from bad to worse.
The romantic poet thinks about death
his thoughts no longer on love and light
he wants to write about misery and war
and things that go bump in the night.
So the next time you can't write a poem
and your sitting there full of despair
you now know it's not you who's at fault
but it's the evil poet and he's over there!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To, for, or against an Irish Poet
When you re-ad alou-d your ow-n po-ems –
(prizewinners, dammit, every one) -
lingering on every no-un, ad-jective and ad-verb
as if they are simultaneously ancient jewels
that you’re touching, showing to us; and yet
new jewels you’re yourself in wonder at…
clothing e-ach w-ord with the sc-ent
of peat fire, soda bread, a glowing hearth;
a child asleep there in the corner;
a woman who’s grown rich, timeless in your love;
outside the cry of curlew, seagull,
the slap of wave on cliff;
but edged, sharp, like the sudden
intake of breath, with centuries on centuries
of uprisings cruelly downtrodden,
famine, allegiances,
leprechauns and muskets and the Armalite…
all these wrapped in baby’s or in widow’s shawl;
the shawl of memory that is a poem..
when you read you-r ow-n ver-se like this –
may-aking a tri-nity of vow-els from each Anglo-Saxon one –
then, I’m emerald green with envy,
reading my own verse in your imitated voice
as if it were those precious ancient new-found jewelled words…
and wishing that all poets – or no poets at all –
were, are, shall be, Irish-born…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Poetry Critics
Our poetry critics ageing males on saturday evenings from six to nine
Meet at the literary room of the Lions Club to do what suits them fine
To talk of poetry and poets each to their point of view
Though they agree on one thing that good poets only few.
Well educated gents of course and they could not be rude
But contemporary rhyme poets only poetasters and them they exclude
From their talk of poets and poetry and in their literary knowledge they take pride
And who is or who is not a poet seems their right to decide.
They never talk about bush poets such verse they see as slipshod
And they see them as the children of the lesser poetry god
And for their years in Uni they have their degrees to show
And of poets and of poetry so much they think they know.
To them a poem is not a poem unless it reads like prose
And a ballad different from true verse as a weed is from a rose
And true poets only write for the privileged few that's what they do imply
And never for the ordinary, people like you and I.
Our poetry critics at the Lions they meet on saturday
And who is a good poet and what is a good poem each like to have their say
And if you wish to become a member of their club you must have your Uni Degrees
For if not to them you are not qualified for to talk about poetry.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Preachers Turn To Poetry
preachers turn to poetry
which is a most natural thing to do
since most revelations are in verse;
preachers, like the wily snake in Paradise,
look for cunning new ways: and so they turn to poetry sites
and take on the roles of poets
and disguise sermons in verse
and Stalin-style Revelations of Guilt and Sin
and Fearful Humility as poems;
and in Ppreachers turn to poetry
which is a most natural thing to do
since most revelations are in verse;
preachers, like the wily snake in Paradise,
look for cunning new ways: and so they turn to poetry sites
and take on the roles of poets
and disguise sermons in verse
and Stalin-style Revelations of Guilt and Sin
and Fearful Humility as poems;
and in Paradise these will sit as Poet Laureates
winning Eternal Fame
churning out Infinite Praise in standard and approved stock and phrase;
and poets who talk about being human
and the beauty of the morning
and who so cannot make The Big Wizard smile
these wretched poets will bark doggerel in Hell...
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!