Mad For Poetry
When your brain becomes befuddled,
You don't do all that's right,
Like computers when they're muddled,
Going slow and none too bright.
Like some lovely information
That's there yet can't be traced,
Then the constant consternation,
Still there or now erased?
The mind plays tricks before collapse,
Solutions ready-made,
Like brand new answers filling gaps
Because the truths have strayed...
It's then I turn to poetry,
For hope inside some verse,
As if the poets penned for me
Some sentiments to nurse...
So I'll sit down and go online
For thoughtful thoughts to read
That God has somehow helped design
So that I, too, take heed...
Some funny rhyme will lift my heart,
I'll giggle for a while
And God grants me a brand new start,
As if to make me smile...
Sometimes I'll write a poem, too!
Perhaps a dream to share,
Or some insight, some point of view,
Some words that form a prayer...
My publisher will then decide,
To publish or to ditch,
So far, this fact I'd rather hide,
I don't think I'll get rich...
But poetry has helped me out,
It's like a part-time friend
Reminding me what life's about
And secrets God can send...
Another poet shares his life,
His moments good and bad
And how he's conquered all his strife,
Been healed and now he's glad...
The world's so full of pilgrim souls,
One life to live on Earth,
One life that only God controls,
That's planned before our birth...
The good, the bad, the in-between,
The humdrum days as well...
And from the poems that I've seen,
What stories God could tell!
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2012.
The poem's based on learning that here in the UK
there's the Community Channel on Sky Digital 539,
which is currently sharing a show that's called
Mad For Poetry. People telling us how they've
been affected by some writer's poetry...
If the writer's been blessed and the reader's been
blessed, that's what I call The Double Blessing.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.
It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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A Poem Is...
A poem is a set of thoughts some writer may express,
Such that with these as his cohorts, who knows if he will bless?
Yet if he does, then shake his hand and pat him on the back!
If not, then banish from this land, or else give him the sack!
A poem is a set insight some writer may relay,
That helps to pass some stormy night or some cold rainy day...
If not, a night without a storm, a day with sunshine filled,
It matters not if hot, cold, warm, as long as we are thrilled...
A poem is a set of themes some writer thinks as wise,
Enough to share with us his dreams with reams before our eyes...
As if to serve some higher will, or merely help his tribe,
Ten years may pass, yet he writes still, as if some royal scribe...
A poem is a precious gift, some writer's masterpiece,
Through which the reader has to sift, its nuggets to release...
Or else it's just some words that rhyme, or unrhymed phrases penned,
In either case, was it sublime, as if a brand new friend?
A poem is a talent shared, fresh-written or in books
And thus with others is compared as each new reader looks...
Anthologies are all the rage! That's where my poems are!
You see, in time, I reached the stage when I became a star!
So read my poems here and there! Reflect on old and new,
If you like them, then say a prayer, because I've prayed for you...
That you may find my treasure trove, my love-filled legacy,
My talent meant to bless us both... for all eternity...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
The poem was written in regard to a TV series
on Sky Digital's Disney Junior and Disney Junior+
entitled A Poem Is... It was described in this way:
A series of classic poetry shorts read by iconic
British celebrities combined with powerful
animation moments from Disney's magical legacy...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The People's Publisher
Over a million poems shared
By Forward Poetry!
The People's Publisher that cared
Has thus made history!
Just think of poets nationwide
Partaking in that feat,
Perhaps there's one who smiles with pride
Who lives within your street!
Perhaps that neighbour no-one knows
Is busy day-by-day!
Perhaps his prose just overflows
'Cos he's got lots to say!
Perhaps he emails now and then
To share his latest one,
Yet soon he's writing once again,
Till that new poem's done!
Perhaps ten thousand poets wrote
The poems now in books
And hoped they'd be an antidote
For every one who looks!
Well-wishers with their hearts of gold
With verses to express
The greatest stories to be told
God meant for happiness!
The People's Publisher agreed
And Editors took part,
So as a team, we all succeed
To triumph in our art...
It's poetry by the people
And for the people, too...
So please remember to keep all
Our poems penned for you!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
Website: www-dot-forwardpoetry-dot-co-dot-uk
poem by Denis Martindale
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Writer's Block!
Yes, these two words came into mind...
Wordpad opened again,
New Rich True Format Document,
Followed by Arial ten...
No text displayed as I perused,
The cursor blinking still...
In readiness for brand new words
My thoughts were yet to spill...
I typed the title, first thing done,
Two line gaps then the verse...
With not a word to lead the way,
It couldn't get much worse...
But then I thought, I'll add my name
And copyright as well,
Then type the date, as if to claim
There's nothing left to tell...
The poem stands, no words at all,
To summarise the theme,
As if the empty heart and mind
Had nothing there to dream...
But then I thought, that's such a waste!
I'll let the reader know,
That even nothing has its place
Before the words can flow...
And so, from nothing came these rhymes,
These thoughts upon a page,
Or PC screen each time I type
To reach another stage...
Who knows? The poem I write next
Could be a great success,
That may grant tremendous insight,
Some cherished happiness...
So Writer's Block, I've beaten you!
I've conquered every doubt!
God gave me something that's brand new
And now I've typed it out!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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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
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!
The Tale Of Two Poets
Though dreams may come and dreams may go,
One dream stays in my mind...
It was of Christ, that much I know,
Yet modern day to find...
He preached to poets in a crowd,
To all men everywhere,
If of the Gospel they are proud
And still intent on prayer.
Christ told the tale of modern men,
Two poets side-by-side,
Who chose computers, not the pen,
Their poems to provide...
Each seated there before the screen,
Content to type away...
Until God chose to intervene...
One solemn fateful day...
Computer hard drives don't last long,
Two poets soon observed...
Technology is not that strong...
The poets were unnerved!
The first decided he'd update
And buy a new PC...
The second chose to hesitate
And chose to disagree...
His first intent was to replace
And yet he had his doubts!
Another PC to embrace?
With all its perks and pouts?
With all its programs to download?
With all its joy and pain...
Oh, no! he sighed. Forget that road!
I'll not go there again!
Instead, he gave up poetry!
He sold the things he could
And gave the cash to charity,
Perchance to do some good!
When God looked down, He loved each one,
For each heart had its worth...
And blessed them both for what they'd done,
Since each one blessed the Earth...
The crowd agreed, if God was pleased
And every poet prayed
And thus, by faith, from great to least,
Continued unafraid...
Their poetry spread far and wide,
To north, south, east and west...
Revitalised by Christ inside
Who helped them write their best!
Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
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What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard
On The Poet And Poetry: The Complete Text
1
Shakespeare and Kalidas and Homer
had no need to flaunt qualifications
so don’t trumpet too much of yours
2
in this kingdom
where one writes
there is no seniority, each is equal
3
it is not important to be a poet;
the thing is to bring the poetry
4
one may win titles
and may be crowned Poet Laureate:
but only time points out
the poet from the crumpet
5
none of your self
and none of your importance here:
just poetry, if you can,
poetry is all that’s needed
6
poetry can be
like a sky filled with wrangling clouds
or as a sky without a wisp
7
in poetry one wakes from dreams
and it may yet be
that one’s wakefulness is itself but a dream
8
in poetry there are no
clichés in thought and phrase;
and what is left there is
the resplendent and the living
9
the writer who repeats
inaptly
word, phrase and concept read or heard
comes second-hand into a market for bad verse
10
one writes;
one does not fill one’s mind with the words:
I want to achieve
11
one writes and
the self disappears
and what is left is understanding
12
poetry leaves one
rich inside
and ordinary outside
13
the fool defines poetry
and poetry defies all definitions
14
poetry entertains, inspires;
poetry tickles, distracts, and shapes and frees -
but its true intent, no one knows
15
expand your understanding of the self –
it includes the world
16
if one had no coins
one cannot buy bread;
but not all the world’s wealth
can bring you poetry
17
celebrate your locality
but go beyond the parochial;
go beyond the region’s arrogance
to reach minds across cyberspace
18
many lines, and countless lines
many pages, and thick volumes
don’t make poetry
19
Oh no!
Not another love poem!
Oh no!
Not another poem about oneself!
20
rhyme, technique and meter
and tricks of prosody
don’t make poetry: passion does
21
the fool speaks of having
written the most number of poems in the world;
and the same fool speaks of quantity
22
we rarely succeed
if one does not go
beyond oneself
23
you wink, you twinkle
you want praise;
you write and you publish online
and you want to win titles –
and so poetry eludes you always
24
a hundred titles, a hundred prizes
a hundred spots of fame
and international renown
all these pale, all pale
before a single line of luminosity
25
the ambitious write pathetic verse;
the lover yields
and poetry embraces such a one
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Making Poetry
Why did I make a poem?
It's more than you can imagine
It's not about black or white
Because the power of poetry that I'm dumbfounded
Look at the whole Bible, everything is poetry {not, but a holy book down from Allah is the truth}
Abstract ideas of science are all from the poem
Idealism actual human life is poetry
I'm just trying to be honest...
Creating poetry for me is more than anything
Not me want to be Jesus or Muhammad {but imitate their pious}
But I do not know what my purpose {paradise}
Only the most important is to produce poetry
I just write from the unreal world
Introduce something to people here
Are they willing to accept it or not does not matter
Since the poetry of the poem is the image of eternity
Who continue to fly and only revealed to the seeker
Poetry for me is more important than life
More important than my beloved
More important than my brother
Because the poem can represent any
Why did I make a poem?
When you reject the poem in your life
It has a form of poem to poem
Actually you can not escape from poetry
But you did not realize it, be aware of?
Indeed the poem is really real
Do you not believe how strong poetry
Look at all the countries in the world today
All poems must have an ideology
Ideology of all States is poetry
Do you still deny its power?
From now on, deep down consider
The poem is more than just blank words without the influence
(30 April 2002)
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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Eight Syllables
God's here! It's time! He's back again!
The poem's on its way!
When writing time calls for my pen
As I begin to pray!
'I'm ready, Lord! Inspire me,
Let wisdom lead me now! '
And thus God grants new poetry,
To melt my furrowed brow...
Eight syllables were in my mind!
Then six to follow on...
A leap of faith would help unwind
The twirling lights that shone...
Within those lights were mysteries
And prophecies galore,
In hopes to melt the miseries
That life still holds in store...
The first line penned, the second, too,
The phrases set in time,
Now all I needed was a clue
To match the words in rhyme...
The mind-set locked on only this
And left and right ignored,
To concentrate, not stray amiss,
To wait upon the Lord...
And there it is, the daydream clue,
Eyes open with insight,
Beholding like a TV view
The things I had to write,
The path set out, a forest trail,
To track where it might lead,
As God revealed a brand new tale
To help me to succeed...
Yes, that works well, the verse takes shape,
Another scene appears
And it thrills me in my dreamscape,
With laughter and with tears...
God has a sense of humour, folks!
He's witty and He's wise!
He shares a modern twist on jokes
That takes me by surprise!
The storyline so quickly forms,
From sudden thoughts within,
It's like the heart inside me warms,
My head's still in a spin!
Yes, I've got it! There's the punchline!
My poem's almost done!
Well, praise the Lord! It's worked out fine!
My word, Lord! That was fun!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Part Of My Life
People write poetry for diverse reasons,
as in poems that describe the yearly seasons.
Poem's can show the love for our mother and father
and you can vent against the boyfriend of your daughter.
You can express your feelings about a day at the beach,
nothing is out of poetry's reach.
Beautiful poetry can make your heart soar
and bring alive days of yore.
It can make king's of old come alive
or make you sad enough to cry.
Poetry can describe angel's performing a celestial dance
or some other circumstance.
Poetry can help a relationship to mend
and it can also help it to end.
I have used poetry to describe a summer day's ice-cream cone
and to express feeling's of being alone.
Poetry will always be a part of my life,
to write of the good and write of the strife.
06/01/07
poem by Barbara Haskell
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It Is A Habit
writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry
and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poet Of Our Time
He doesn't like non rhyming poetry ignore what he has to say
About your fashionable writing you are the poet of the day
Your thoughts on paper are as deep as the ocean you are a wise one indeed
You are an emerging writer as a poet you will succeed
Everyone has their opinions no two exactly the same
He doesn't like modern poetry but he has not sullied your name
It only means you are a good writer when others your works criticize
You are a poet of the future you've won a literary prize
At poetry nights you read your verses and always for you there's an encore
You feel so proud and so happy when the audience they beg you for more
People love you for your poetry see you as a poetic great
But not everyone as you know your success will celebrate
He is a man of the fifties he only likes poems that rhyme
So many do love your poetry you are a poet of our time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Poet Of Our
He doesn't like non rhyming poetry ignore what he has to say
About your fashionable writing you are the poet of the day
Your thoughts on paper are as deep as the ocean you are a wise one indeed
You are an emerging writer as a poet you will succeed
Everyone has their opinions no two exactly the same
He doesn't like modern poetry but he has not sullied your name
It only means you are a good writer when others your works criticize
You are a poet of the future you've won a literary prize
At poetry nights you read your verses and always for you there's an encore
You feel so proud and so happy when the audience they beg you for more
People love you for your poetry see you as a poetic great
But not everyone as you know your success will celebrate
He is a man of the fifties he only likes poems that rhyme
So many do love your poetry you are a poet of our time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Egoism of Poets
We don’t write poetry,
Poetry writes us.
How can we make poetry,
If we are part of poetry.
The world around us is poetry.
Poetry is already defined.
Calling ourselves poets.
Selfishness in every line.
Egoism in every word.
Stealing poetry from the world.
That already exists in every form.
It’s written in every mist,
Every tree, every bliss.
Who are we to write?
Calling ourselves masterminds.
Trapping ourselves in believe
That we are creating something unique
The world at our feet.
Just too full fill our need.
Even this poem is an act
of a selfish deed.
Every letter in ink.
Created through love and sin.
Writing on a paper
But it’s the world’s skin.
Pressing on the surface.
To see blue blood is our purpose.
Thinking poetry is ours.
Poetry devoured
By poets every hour.
Poems all around us.
Turning grey to dust.
Turning brown to rust.
We have captured the most
But there is still so much.
Bleeding away in disaster, poverty
And war.
Ink to us all.
A poet’s only lord.
His only norm, his only home.
His precious and beloved poem.
We should be ashamed.
poem by Nadim Lost Soul
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Poetry Dream.
I drift Yeah ~ ~ ~ ~ drift,
Network at home and abroad to find changed,
Finally came to this piece of land,
This is the poetry of the static earth?
Hoped to write a good poem,
To allow them across the oceans.
They become afraid of heavy stones,
Not sensual in the sink into the sea!
How many years after writing poetry?
This life caught in the areas of poetry,
Poets seem to lose direction.
Not to warble his life sentence,
Poetry is difficult as the expense of my new hand,
He voted Shigao nowhere Monet,
Sometimes, as the water is no longer up,
Poet dead bodies over the sea.
Poems written to a basis
Vernacular into a good poem, rare words,
But thousands of miles seeking Hello,
Poetry does not seek out the words parallelism.
Present the most chaotic poetry,
Have you written in classical Chinese poetry Link old-fashioned,
Vernacular writing to another, then no taste,
But to one day rushed into cloud,
To break the shackles of poetry,
Create a new charm,
Freedom to write my hope,
Unrestricted write a new realm.
poem by Albert Wong
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Google = A Good Poem = 147, Ooo, Ooo
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.
POETRY
God has always had his poets
Who He watches with love from space.
But Satan has his poets too
Who try to lead us from our grace.
King Solomon was a poet
Who spoke of love, life, death and war.
That lips were like threads of scarlet
And that breasts were roses and more.
The wild birds sing and flowers bloom
As clouds form figures in the sky.
But only humans will write poems
That shall last long after they die.
The eldest sister of all arts
Which some have called the Devils wine.
Poetry is but pure passion
To stimulate the heart and mind.
BY GOD'S POET = tom zart!
A Journey Of A Poet
A journey begins with
A thought in our mind
Words are chosen and formed.
Lines of poem
Well Written with meanings
With words of emotions and expressions
A poet starts with
An inspiration of mind,
An aspiration in soul mind
With reflection
On our life experience
We start to
Compose some
Wonderful poetry
Expressing our innermost thoughts
With deep contemplation
To put them in poetry words
A journey begins when
A poet takes his imagination
To a place where
No one ever dream or imagine before.
A poet's journey ends by
Writing another lovely poem
And deep reflection
A poet remains
As a poet
When he or she
Continue to
Write and Share
lovely poems with the world.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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On Poetry
1
poetry can be
like a sky filled with wrangling clouds
or as a sky without a wisp
2
in poetry there are no
clichés in thought and phrase;
and what is left there is
the resplendent and the living
3
poetry leaves one
rich inside
and ordinary outside
4
the fool defines poetry
and poetry defies all definitions
5
poetry entertains, inspires;
poetry tickles, distracts, and shapes and frees -
but its true intent, no one knows
6
many lines, and countless lines
many pages, and thick volumes
don’t make poetry
7
if one had no coins
one cannot buy bread;
but not all the world’s wealth
can bring you poetry
8
Oh no!
Not another love poem!
Oh no!
Not another poem about oneself!
9
rhyme, technique and meter
and tricks of prosody
don’t make poetry: passion does
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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