I'm Going To Finish This Poem!
I'm going to finish this poem!
Yes, just you wait and see!
This isn't some fancy or whim
Or flight of fantasy!
No, I'll finish the thing today!
Not 'some day'… 'later on'!
In fact, I'm not going away
Until its light has shone!
'Cos half an insight's not worth much –
It doesn't help a jot!
I'm staying here! I shall not budge
Until I've done the lot!
I'll make no coffee, make no tea,
No cocoa, not a drop!
I'll strive to solve the mystery
And then, by God, I'll stop!
I'd like each heart to comprehend…
Here's my 'labour of love'!
Just thirty lines, that's all, my friend!
I think they'll prove enough…
While others sleep, I stay awake,
Intent on rhymes untold!
They're like the icing on the cake
That help my tale unfold!
I'm almost there! Not much to ask!
Just seven lines to do!
Now six completes my noble task!
Now five! I'm almost through!
Four lines to go, then off to bed!
Thank God for future themes!
It's time to rest my weary head!
I'VE DONE IT! PLEASANT DREAMS! !
poem by Denis Martindale
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My Twenty Lines
I just read this poem about using just twenty lines,
and it brought these words to my mind.
Who are they to tell us how many lines we should use to speak?
This is America where we have a law known as freedom of speech.
Just twenty lines tell you something about my life in words.
To me that seem completely absurd.
My life is much more than just twenty lines.
Hell I am thirty nine.
And if they except me to sum up thirty nine years in twenty lines
They are complete outside their minds.
How am I suppose to tell you how I nearly died when I was child?
Or how my mother harsh words took away my smile:
In just twenty lines?
Like I said they must be out of their minds.
I guest I can do if I shorten my life.
I don't have to talk about how much I love my future wife.
But her love is the inspiration for a lot of my poems.
So to not talk about her would be wrong.
I have a lot more to say but I'm out of time.
I reach my limit of my twenty lines.
Time Lines
i have said nothing for time wont allow me.
time lines... time lines... time lines, what i felt for you has turned to confusion.
as time lines up our times together worry overshadows my 'influenced' judgement.
time lines..
our future perfectly sealed for i filled my heart with your promises.
time outlined your feelings for me..
times we spent together seem so far away like the times of the early bud.
our love has lost its will to florish like juliets rose.
time has outlined my affection for you.
time lines.. time lines..
the memories we once cherished together, the lines that have been put between us by time have destroyed the love once shared by you and me.
time has been thought to mend broken hearts ALAS, it has made matters worse.
time lines me and you. time lined our fate through spectatr critiques.
we possess souls joint together by time, YET its time that divides us.
time took its tole on our love.
is this forbidden love? that time has outlined
time lines my emotions of love for you..
time lines my emtions.
time lines.... time lines
poem by Njube Nangamso
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There Have Been Many Opening Lines Tonight
THERE HAVE BEEN MANY OPENING LINES TONIGHT
There have been many opening lines tonight
But none has been followed by a convincing poem -
Why is this evening one of trying and failing?
Why can't I at least write one small poem
That seems to me worthwhile?
I am doing better now-
There is a stanza,
And perhaps these lines will be a stanza too.
I have two small awkward stanzas
When I finish this one
I will try to feel I have a poem.
Nothing I do tonight is good enough
Is it better to have a poor poem
Or none at all?
I answer by posting these lines.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Fishing For Poetic Lines
bait first lines
are poetic gifts
from enticing muse
mystery mastery
potential proves
patience is needed
beautiful first lines
be patient mystic poet
don't rush finish rest
poem by Terence George Craddock
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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A Ways To Go
(lainie marsh)
I hear the clock a tickin
See the sweat upon my brow
I know my destination
Nothings gonna stop me now
Im running on desire
Baby Ive got nerves of steel
Coming down to the wire
Lord above me guide the wheel
Keep me in your prayers tonight
Ill be weary upon that road
I know the finish lines in sight
But I still have a ways to go
Theres a junkyard dog a barkin
In the valley down below
Hes wanting me to stop and
Gather up a heavy load
Aint gonna heed his call
Aint givin him the time of day
You mangy mutt once and for all
I said I threw that stuff away
I wont have a bit of trouble
Heading down the straight and true
Ill fly solo on the double
Into the yonder blue
I might need some intervention
Out upon the icy turn
In a foggy situation
Squealin on a hairpin curve
Im running on desire
Baby Ive got nerves of steel
Coming down to the wire
Lord above me guide the wheel
Keep me in your prayers tonight
Ill be weary upon that road
I know the finish lines in sight
But I still have a ways to go
Keep me in your prayers tonight
Ill be weary upon that road
I know the finish lines in sight
But I still have a ways to go
Got a ways to go, got a ways to go
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Make Me Feel Alive
Blood drips,
It rips me apart,
Watch my tears drop,
POP goes the noise,
The thin line between me and you is real,
Where I lay,
Where I must stay,
Away I go with you,
Sway my way,
Make me feel alive today,
Just one more day with you,
You Make feel so alive,
I feel as if I am complete with you,
You are the one for me,
Strange lines we crossed,
You crossed the path of lines you shouldn't have crossed,
STOP me from hurting again,
You are the reason why I feel the way I feel.
Make me feel alive,
Not dead,
Just alive,
Thats the way you make me feel,
To know that you're mine to keep,
To know that I am yours,
Puts a smile on my face,
You make me feel alive,
To know that I am alive just for you,
I love you from the bottom of my heart.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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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
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The poem that got away
I started a poem with a serious intent…
but who would ever guess the mess, and where that poem went?
I’d barely writ a line so fine, when the poem turned to me,
looked me in the eye and ear, and laughed demonic-lee,
pranced around me, singing, boo! you can’t catch me!
ain’t no rules nor grammar for the boldheart and the free!
race you round the chocabloc, poetic chairbound fatty!
you’re just like every pompous poet, thinking always that he
can control a poem with a life that’s its own!
tries to rhyme each couplet up, as if lines were circus clones…
tries to measure poems by some rules about their feet, or
wants to match my singing lines to some archaic meter…
’cause I’m a poem!
I’ve got my own life!
I want to dance around the streets,
I want to join a band!
I’ve got so much to tell you,
I want to lift your heart…
I want to make you weepy too,
If that’s the way I feel..
I want to talk to children,
or to live in fantasy;
I want to feel much bolder
than this sillybilly world,
quick and slick and fancy-free;
and sail past time and space;
or wonder what it could be like
before the world began…
I want to shuffle words around,
like books upon a shelf;
I want to be all bold and free –
I want to be – myself!
So boo to all your metered rhymes,
you faded, jaded poet…
poems are the masters now…
it’s much more fun,
it’s just begun…and
it’s time for you to know it! …
poem by Michael Shepherd
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What Is Fancy?
SISTER.
I am to write three lines, and you
Three others that will rhyme.
There-now I've done my task.
BROTHER.
Three stupid lines as e'er I knew.
When you've the pen next time,
Some question of me ask.
SISTER.
Then tell me, brother, and pray mind,
Brother, you tell me true:
What sort of thing is fancy?
BROTHER.
By all that I can ever find,
'Tis something that is very new,
And what no dunces can see.
SISTER.
That is not half the way to tell
What fancy is about;
So pray now tell me more.
BROTHER.
Sister, I think 'twere quite as well
That you should find it out;
So think the matter o'er.
SISTER.
It's what comes in our heads when we
Play at 'Let's-make-believe,'
And when we play at 'Guessing.'
BROTHER.
And I have heard it said to be
A talent often makes us grieve,
And sometimes proves a blessing.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Scribbling Some Lines
scribbling some lines
forms of escape from
traps and grills
lines that give us wings
to fly
lines that give us claws
to defend ourselves
lines that shall make
us understand
what knots are there
that we cannot untangle
but sometimes i go within
and inside myself
i say: what for? does understanding
untie the knots that entangle us?
my friend, there is no need
to understand
no amount of understanding
can set us free
just go, walk, and talk
and take your time
comfort yourself with
a little drink
a little smile
a little rest
a little of everything
for soon
just like anything
everything puffs out
and becomes
over.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Word Lines
I write
my pain
and its
just another poem
its just
the same
all the heart ache that goes onto this page
only takes me back to the place where I await
behind the curtains of an empty stage
the pain
I write
I wrote this
I locked my own cage
I threw away the key to he that did see me rage
and still
I write
yes still
I fight
hoping that I might find something you feel
because these two word lines are just rhymes
when I say them back they aren't real
I'm sick and tired of talking about better times
forcing things like a relationship two people don't really want
a mum and dad staying together for the sake of the kids when the love is really gone.
Look at this back and see my two word lines
see my two word lines
are one.
poem by Daniel McCann
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Can Read Between The Lines
Roy orbison/joe melson
Girl I got your letter telling me youre coming home tonight
The lines were sweet and tender signed with all your love
Pretty words to make me feel alright
Then I read it over I got the feeling youre not completely mine
I held it to my chest, where you always rest
And I cried cos I can read between the lines
Between the lines I see youre making believe
But I cant help it, I still want you
Between the lines its plain youre playing that old game
But I still love you, and I cant change
Baby Ill be waiting at the downtown station right on time
Reaching out to hold you, the way I always do
Ill pretend that you are only mine
And while Im loving you I cant read between the lines
While Im loving you I cant read between the lines
Transcribed by the teenking
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love is a bitter thing
Love is a bitter thing
that cuts nastily,
Through my heart.
Too many beautiful things
still lies too spring fresh,
between you and me
for love to end by itself.
I do not know what to do
to stop love from disappearing somewhere
between yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Every time that you are with me
I know that things between us,
are still sparkling alive.
The things between the lines in each conversation,
your body language and your fingers that draw lines
through my hair,
betrays what lies hidden deep in your heart.
It does not make sense that you want it dead
and your words say that it is past,
but still you want to be with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When You Read This
when you read this
poem, i am letting you know
that i still care,
when you continue reading on
the next line
you are letting me know
what i still know
that you still care for me too
and then you are angry
about how presumptuous can i be
and so i make another line
and another line and if you continue reading
more of these lines
in this poem
you are letting me know
that you are still angry about
my untimely departure
that moment when love was
still strong
when desire was at its peak
and then you think things over
how you have been
unwittingly betrayed by my words
and you keep on
reflecting if these lines still
say the same
meanings and i keep on writing
more lines
hoping that you will understand
what i have not said
because i cannot say them
because my self
cannot lie by saying them to
you because i do not wish to
hurt you because i still
love you and then i write lines
that ask
if you still love me but then
i must put an end to all
these useless writing
time has spoken
as the lines of fate and
destiny still have it
we were never meant for
each other
the love is there
the bodies still alive
our hands never reach
till then
perhaps in the next life
at the right moment
perhaps when
our parallel lives meet
at some point
of convergence
and as you read let me put
the last line: goodbye
May God make us
meet and love again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It's Late To Write A Poem
It’s late to write a poem-
It’s almost time to go-
And yet now as I was about to leave
The spirit of poetry came to me
And I feel in me lines that want to be written-
So as I quietly calmly surely write these lines down now
I know
The world can wait a long time for a real poem-
But when it comes
Oh how the sky opens up and the dreams go on happily on their journey.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little Broken Lines Do Not A World Make
LITTLE BROKEN LINES DO NOT A WORLD MAKE
Little broken lines do not a world make-
A poem without a music of its own
Is not much of a poem-
Once I had a rhythm I could hear;
I’ve lost it.
Bare lines appear,
They have no song-
I try in rereading
To feel their music,
But there is not much music in me now.
A poem at best should be a music all its own
I have no such music now-
If this is a poem, it is a lesser one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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