Legacy
Everyone wants to leave
a legacy of their life behind.
Some do it with money,
others choose jewellery and a home,
but the writer leaves his words.
Hoping in years to come
that someone will appreciate
everything he had to say.
That his words will not be forgotten,
gathering dust in a drawer somewhere,
but that someone in some distant year,
will read them and enjoy,
and then to the world declare.
That what he wrote was right,
not only for his time,
but for the future to.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Home With My Writing
how often do i have to read
other people's work hoping that i may soon hone mine
and get
the admiration of other writers?
that is a long time ago and i guess
i have changed
whether admired or not we are all writers in our own ways
it is just a matter of self-expression
a way of telling those who will be left here that once we were here and we have written a lot, a legacy in words, that we are the ideas of our own time,
and time perhaps is glad about it
how we wrote and what we wrote for and whom
it's perfectly nice living life at your own pace
saying the words you want to say and leaving everything for the rest to see and judge
so to say, i am finally at home with my own words and style.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tracks We Leave Behind
In a hundred years from now
when we are not around,
I wonder if we’ll be remembered
for the tracks we leave behind,
our legacy for our short time here.
Will our meagre efforts
be rewarded with immortal fame
or will they be extinguished
like the candles flame?
We can only live in hope.
One day in the distant future
will a student over our work ponder
of how our life was reflected
in the tracks we leave behind
and the confusion we sometimes feel.
Let’s hope that future student
sees all our love within
the words we carefully chose
to represent our life
in the tracks we leave behind.
10 November 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wrote Many New Poems Now Long Forgotten
I WROTE MANY POEMS NOW LONG FORGOTTEN
I wrote many poems now long forgotten
Why do I believe any poem I will write now
Or in the future
Is better than them?
I am a man lost in the world of his own words
And the only way out I know
Is writing more words
Which too are added on
To the unending pile of the forgotten.
Tell me where this poem too will be
When I am in the ground?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Hidden Within
I write more on some days
than I do on others.
On those days there is an urgency
hidden within what I do.
I cannot explain it,
nor do I ever try.
I just sit down, write,
and write to my hearts content.
The pouring out of words
is something I have got used to.
I write wherever I am, at home,
in my car when I am not driving of course.
Walking along the street, even in my sleep.
My mind is always active
exploring new avenues,
laying waste to more words.
It is my way of life
and I would be lost without it.
I once gave up for six or seven years,
but its pull was always there.
It’s something I will never do again.
My legacy when I leave this world
will be within my words
and any good things I have done.
Hopefully, that won’t be
for a long, long time to come.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Friends With Unseen Faces
'This is dedicated to Suzanne, Melvina, Alison and Francesca. My friends with unseen faces.'
For years my work lay hidden.
Gathering dust on my shelf.
Then came a chance encounter.
From a past half forgotten.
A voice across the internet.
A conversation was taken.
An introduction was made.
A new voice who sounded my praise.
Soon there was another and another.
From different parts of the world.
Four ladies who have helped me.
To find myself again.
They are strangers, but friends.
Kindred souls whom I’d never recognise.
If I passed them on the street.
Their words kind and supportive.
Have helped me to my feet.
After a drought of words.
They have rekindled an old flame.
Made me see again.
That my words can bring joy.
Again and again and again.
So to my friends with unseen faces.
A little gift from afar.
Hope you enjoy my praises.
As much as I enjoy yours..
We may never meet face to face.
Unless fate decrees it so.
But just remember wherever you wander.
You have a friend out there.
Who’s face you do not know.
poem by David Harris
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The Wasted Words Of All The Years
THE WASTED WORDS OF ALL THE YEARS
The wasted words of all the years-
The time given to them-
A lifetime given to words
Never to be read.
Yet how I lived in those years.
And what hope I had in those words
And how I told my dreams in them
And how I tried to help those I loved.
No one needs the words
And no one wants them
But perhaps the life itself
In writing them
That too counts.
All the years of the words and the dreams and the hopes and the love of those I loved and the striving for greatness not to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Here For The World
There's nothing missing
You've got it all here
The sound of the thunder
The sound in your ear
You've no reminder no old photograph
Did you come for the money
Did you leave for the laugh
So read the words, Read the words
You've got them all here
You've got them all here, For the world
Here for the world, I'm here for the world
And all you've got in it
I've nothing missing
I've got you all here
The sound of a thunder
Its sound in your ear
We've no reminder no old photograph
Did you come for the money
Will you leave for the laughs
So read the words, Read the words
You've got them all here
You've got them all here
For the world, For the world
We're here for the world
And all you've got in it
Your here for the world, For the world
Your here for the world
And all they've got in it
song performed by by I Am Kloot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Say The Words
Every light shines on you tonight
Making a fool out of me
Why wont this love leave me alone
All of the people in this smoky room
Crowded with faces I know
I feel them watching me watch you
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Your eyes are deeper
They are worthy of many words
But none I can conjure up will do for you
I shouldnt see you
cause I know my own motivation
Its taking too long for this love
To leave me alone
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Bridge
Oh love you worry me
When you say youll wait forever
I have another life
We just cannot be together
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words say them for me
I need to hear you say its over
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Little Words
Three words are spoken,
And then forgotten.
Three little words I wish to say,
But hold back the unknown.
My head is dizzy,
My eyes are blurry.
All I think about are,
Those three little words.
For now I will hide,
Those three little words.
Hoping one day,
I can tell him freely.
But those three little words,
Are ‘I love you.’
poem by Mariah Simpson
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Words
Yeats so simply stated
' Words alone are certain good. '
And to the great poet
So highly rated
I try to listen, as I should; Yet
Being an untrained novice
Such as me
With verdant hopes of much improvement
- oh that I would -
I beg to slightly differ with W. B.
And offer here my humble opinion
- if I could -
Good certainly is not words alone,
For without humanity
To read and to write
How would they ever become known?
- For without the good of people
Who of these words would care
Ever to be heard, or even shared?
No, the good does not alone from words arise,
Rather from human beings
Whose entire story
Such words do attempt to comprise.......
- Words written in this time
May even the way
To a distant future find,
But not on their own
And never alone.
For it takes people's
- hand's to write
- eye's to read
- heart and soul to understand
The purpose, and the need.
Let it here be shown
Words alone
Are not the only good,
They need human beings
To give goodness and life
To their reason and meaning
For they are merely the vehicle
By which man's true good
Is found and understood.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Hope within a Flicker Hope of Light
Darkness overrides the midnight moon
a wind of gusty
night blowing;
the despair over
the mid-life of
a rolling emotion.
Future cycles behind
those mountains past -
when a freshness of
hope crawls in.
A query of the mind:
where is that hope of
longing that flows
along with the watery starlit
eyes? when
only darkness
covers the pit of despair in
fields and fields
of red poppy seeds.
A holding of the past
posts leaves of words
to despair -
the hope of singling
is far too great...
bring and guide the trail
of hope towards
darkness that exceedingly
keeps leaves of words
locked in a past...
all the meanwhile
hope is such a bright
and elegant word world...
...when future rolls
in behind those mountains -
gathering of courage will allow
tear stained leaves of words
to be guided
to a light of true inner hope.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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0009 Favorite Poem
and you can’t remember much
about the first time you read it except
that it held you to the end, but most of all
this one line, which seemed to hold
the key to the whole poem
as if you were opening the closet of your mind
to bring out something which you knew was there
but instead something way at the back
called to you and you remembered
a moment from way back you thought
you had forgotten
and then you read the poem again
in company with the poet and
yes that’s it, and the two of you
became friends for life, almost
related.
So, now you’ve read all their poems,
feel some more than others but
as if you wrote them all in the same room
where you read them together
and you wait for their new book with
a sorta family pride
and like family,
you leave the poems for a spell,
grow up a little, then
come back to visit -
they mean more;
can it be,
you've both grown?
each time you come back to them
you carry them more close to you
in fact you feel that you could write
poems very much like theirs
as if you’d inherited, too,
the family gift
and though you wouldn’t of course
seek them out in person except
in a reading where you’d
have to share their warmth
with the rest of their extended family
but not say much since
you are a, well, close relative,
if you happened to be driving a route
not far from them, you’d detour,
park a little distance from their house,
but have it in your sight,
hope you might catch a movement,
wait a few minutes, then
start the car with almost a sigh
half relieved that you didn’t have to try
on their cautiously polite doorstep
to find words to say
you love them in their words,
which you almost wrote together,
lived them together;
love them like life itself,
love them
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Little Words
Three little words
mean the whole world
to me…
Every moment,
Every year,
Every day of my life,
Every breath that I take
Those three little words
Keep me alive…
I say it to you
I’ve said it before
I feel for you
With all my heart…
Those three little words
Are so dear to me
You know and I know
Those three little words,
For you’ve said it to me
And have felt for me
Without a care
In this world…
Those three little words
Mean a lot to you
And Indeed
Are very precious to me…
So let’s Celebrate
This Valentine’s Day
Just as we cherish
Every day
Of our togetherness
And remain in love
forever more…
Holding ourselves
In a loving embrace
Caring, feeling,
Expressing…
Those three little words
From you to me
And me to you…
Yes, it is true
My Love
And here it goes,
Just the way
It has always been
Over the years…
And so I say it
To you, that
I Love You
I Love You,
I Love You.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Song
(bernie taupin & elton john, 1969)
It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I'm not one of those, who can easily hide,
I don't have much money, but boy if i did
I'd buy a big house where we could both live.
If i were a sculptor, but then again no,
Or a man who sells potions in a travelling show
I know it's not much, but it's the best i can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you.
And you can tell everybody, this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind
That i put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world.
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of those verses, you know what, make me cross
But the sun's been quite kind while i wrote down this song,
It's for people like you that keep it turned on.
So excuse me forgetting, but these things that i do
You see i've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is, what i, what i really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen.
And you can tell everybody, this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind
What i put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world.
I hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind
What i put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world.
While you're in the world
While you're in the world
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Song
it's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I'm not not of those, who can easily hide
I don't have much money, but boy if i did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live
If i was a sculptor, huh, but then again no
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show
I know it's not much, but it's the best i can do
My gift is my song, and this one's for you
And you can tell everybody, this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind
That i put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses, well they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while i wrote this song
It's for people like you, that keep it turned on
So excuse me forgetting, but these things i do
You see i've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is, what i really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen
And you can tell everybody, this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind
That i put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
I hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind
That i put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world...(fade out)
song performed by by Ronan Keating
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All In Love Is Fair
All is fair in love
Loves a crazy game
Two people vow to stay
In love as one they say
But all is changed with time
The future none can see
The road you leave behind
Ahead lies mystery
But all is fair in love
I had to go away
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
All of fates a chance
Its either good or bad
I tossed my coin to say
In love with me youd stay
But all in war is so cold
You either win or lose
When all is put away
The losing side Ill play
But all is fair in love
I should have never left your side
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All In Love Is Fair
All is fair in love
Love's a crazy game
Two people vow to stay
In love as one they say
But all is changed with time
The future no one can see
The road you leave behind
Ahead lies mystery
But all is fair in love
I had to go away
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
All of fate's a chance
It's either good or bad
I tossed my coin to say
In love with me you'd stay
But all in war is so cold
You either win or lose
When all is put away
The loosing side I'll play
But all is fair in love
I should never have left your side
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
A writer takes his pen
To write the words again
That all in love is fair
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Verbs v. nouns
Nouns…
they’re dead things; names
you give to things to render them
immobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothing
except scrapheaps, museums, dictionaries, armchairs;
but they make you feel good;
you have control over their world;
you don’t have to think about them any more;
they’re all locked up safe in your collecting-box,
the noun for which is head:
you can sound important with nouns:
this government’s raft of measures
for fiscal stimulation of the economy
but verbs… ah, verbs!
you can’t own them, push them about,
collect them, be important about them;
they own themselves;
they’re outdoor words: going about their
lawful business, doing what they're best at,
measuring their own life as they work;
adapting themselves to what needs to be done
which nouns can’t do without a committee
and then it’s too late; happy
to be themselves, being; even
being while they’re doing.. don't you wish
you were a verb?
Nature – (that’s a verb, by the way,
not a noun) – is all verbs; evolution
is a verb (not a theory):
DNA’s a verb – you can’t own it
like a noun…it doesn’t even
want to own you…
so, be a child – put your boots on,
run, splash, shout look at all those verbs;
how bright the world, what fun,
nothing to put in your pocket to take home
(or if you do, it’ll change to a noun, your noun,
in your pocket, in your drawer, gathering dust:
verbs don’t have the time to gather dust…)
verbs are for observing; verbs are for
seeing for the first time; wow! Verbs are for
inventors, explorers, tree-climbing,
coming home after a day of verb-watching
tired and looking forward to tomorrow
and sleeping soundly, maybe even
thanking, laughing, giving, living;
God is a verb.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Don't Believe 'You' Wrote This!
I am told I have a way with words.
I am encouraged when I hear that said.
I remember listening to my father talk.
And when he would sing...
He would bring a different meaning,
To each word I heard.
And what his singing to them he would bring.
My mother would play the piano.
Thunderous and loud!
And when I walked through the projects...
I would sing to the trees,
I once walked into one...
Humming to the clouds.
I would make up melodies and tunes with words.
Mocking my dad and my mother's love,
For gospel verse she would rehearse.
I didn't think anything really about words I wrote.
Until my sister read a poem of mine.
And I wanted to choke her by the throat!
YES!
She was the first to read something I wrote out loud.
I was embarrassed by that.
Her nosy grown up butt...
Reading my 'stuff' behind my back!
And then she said to me,
'I don't believe 'you' wrote this! '
I must have been 13 years old...
When I started to make my writing public.
I am told I have a way with words.
I am encouraged when I hear that said.
I remember listening to my father talk.
And when he would sing...
He would bring a different meaning,
To each word I heard.
And what his singing to them he would bring.
Each 'thing' I write now...
Is added to a mixed bag offering!
And reflecting how I'm feeling at the time.
I am grateful for this blessing.
It offers a comfort and a peace of mind!
And when someone says they enjoy what I do...
I must be honest with 'you', the reader!
I-do-too!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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