The Longest Poem In The World

The longest poem in the world
Went on and on and on...
So much that when it was unfurled,
Rolled on and on and on...
Folks were entranced when first they read,
Yet none could see it through.
For soon they had to go to bed
And sleep as sleepers do.
The fastest speakers had their turn,
Attempting what they could,
Yet they grew hoarse to likewise learn
That it did them no good.
Computer geeks were rallied round,
Translating text to speech.
It wore the geeks into the ground,
Too far beyond their reach.
God called His angels to His Throne
And asked for volunteers,
Yet when the poem's length was known,
They knew it would take years!
Despite this fact, God's Son stood proud
And said it was sublime...
And solemnly that day He vowed
That He would spare the time.
So God agreed and Jesus left
And read the poem through...
God missed His Son and felt bereft,
Yet time in Heaven flew.
God's Son returned with His report,
The poem to explain...
He shared the poet's every thought,
The power of his brain...
The angels listened patiently
And when Jesus was done,
They praised the Lord in ecstacy
And thanked God for His Son!
The longest poem to recall!
From the oldest man who lived!
For Christ alone had read it all -
Methusaleh's greatest gift!

poem by Denis MartindaleReport problemRelated quotes
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Do Not Read! ! !

Don't read this poem!
Turn back while you have the chance
Or you will regret it
This poem is a poem of darkness
This poem is a devourer of souls
It will destroy you
Consume you
Absorb you into its black depths
I tried to warn you
I told you not to read it
Why are you still reading?
If I had named it 'READ THIS POEM! ! ! '
Would you have even bothered?
This poem is pulling you in
It has your feet
It's eating you
It's shattering your soul
It's never going to let you go
It's murdering you
This poem is a murderer
It is a criminal, it is evil
It is unnameable, unbreakable, imperfect
This poem has you
It's too late for you now
There's no escape for you now
Too bad
This poem has you
This poem's devoured you
Yummm, good
This poem is satisfied now
You should have listened to me
But you didn't
And now the poem's taken you
You're dead.

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A Poem Is Just A Poem

a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem

a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about

anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's

poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be

a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice

thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist

on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,

need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem

it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so

this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.

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This Poem

THIS POEM

This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.

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A Poem To Be Heard

A poem to be held

a poem to be fed, with words stronger than the ancient

spirits.

Ti's a poem to be read by all.

A poem that beats the heat of temptation away.

It's power in every single word attracts the moonlight.

A poem, a light in the dark wilderness.

A poem that is just needed and leaves the audience

speechless.

A poem that comforts a sad soul.

Read to me a poem

when I'm cold.

Read it to me till I'm old.

When I'm heart broken, a poem, a love, I'd want.

A poem, a victory through lives endless battle.

A poem an epistle to mine heart, and every written word

in it is heard.

A poem, about royalty, about Kings and Queens

and how they live in luxury.

A poem, a song about sweet heavens.

Read me a poem and slow my heart beat down.

A poem with a tasty flavor, I'd want to hear.

Read me a poem that explains how Nelson Mandela

conquered his fears.

A poem that can describe how Martin Luther Kings

felt when he fought for freedom.

I long to hear it,

Therefor read me a poem,

to be heard.

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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again

THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’

‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?

Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’

The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.

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God is the creator

God is the creator
poem is a creation
Poet is not God.

I am a lover of poem
Poet is my hero
God is hero's hero.

I just read poem
I just enjoy reading poem
I shall continue to read poem
As long as I enjoy poem.

At times
Poems are being written by me.
The credit goes to God
God direct me to write poem
And I write.

God only can explain the meaning
I am just an instrument
And nothing.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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Read poem write poem and poem

Read poem write poem and poem
I know poem is the best
Poem has emotion poem has life
Through poem we can reach
Where we want to reach.

I express myself through poem
Truth is in the poem
And truth is my expression.

Know truth live with truth
Truth is in the poem.
Read poem write poem and poem.

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The First Poem

The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.

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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written

THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN

Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.

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Faves And Yuks

and some say
oh that’s my favourite ever poem
my aunt my uncle my teacher read it
to me when I was twelve
and the more I read it
the more true it is and now
I’m older I can say it off by heart
as if the poem knows my heart

and some say
that poem yuk I really really hate it
the more people said to me
that’s a great poem
the more I hated it
now if I see it
in an anthology
I skip the page quickly
I really really hate it

and I wonder if
the more people read a poem
do they take a bit of its power into themselves
so it no longer has quite that surprise it had

or the more people read that poem
the more they add to it
so it has the power
to surprise more people

or do poems
like a rest from time to time
like that old toy in
your grandparents’ attic
which so surprised you

that Jack-in-a-box
with a face like
Pushkin
or Langston Hughes

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There Is A Poem No One Has Read

THERE IS A POEM NO ONE HAS READ

There is a poem no one has read
No one has written it either.
It is a Poem that exists only
where no Poet is.
It is a nameless Poem
And no one can understand it.
It is the Only Poem there Is.

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18 Definitions Of A Short Poem

1) A short poem
Saves time,

2) A short poem
Saves time
For its reader, also.

3) A short poem is over
Before its read.

4) A short poem
Can be swiftly reread.

5) A short poem
Is a lightning flash.

6) A short poem
Is one metaphor only.

7) A short poem
Is less than nine words.

8) A short poem
Opens ones eyes
In the morning.

9) A short poem
May be a short prayer.

10) A short poem
May be a poem of a single word.

11) Poem.

12) A short poem
A small play on words.

13) A short poem
May be a single sentence.

14) A short poem is shorter
Than the definition of it.

15) It breaks up the icy sea within.

16) A chill down the spine.

17) There is no end
To making definitions of the short poem.

18) A short poem in Hebrew
Is shorter than than the same poem in English.

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The Poem Pals

When I woke up, I looked outside and what a sight I saw
There was no place for them to hide near to my neighbour's door.
The Poem Pals were back again! With poems in their hands
That God has sent out to all men and women in His lands...

When they saw me, they waved hello! I waved back and made tea.
I asked them in to get to know what was the mystery...
They told me straight, 'He's busy now, his T.V.'s on the blink!
And so us guys he won't allow, he's hardly time to think...'

So off I went and they went, too, 'Good luck! ' they said and smiled.
The problem sorted, he said, 'Phew! ' and calmed down, now quite mild.
I told him of the Poem Pals, 'They visit me as well,
They're full of wonders, full of tales, what stories they could tell! '

'You see them, too? ' He was amazed! 'Oh, yes, they're all my friends! '
'Thank God for that! ' he quickly praised, with no need for pretence!
They stood in line, the first one in, his poem now to share,
So that my neighbour could begin to make the world aware...

The poem penned, we watched him leave with smiles upon his face!
Another poem to receive from God above by grace.
The second guy came with his verse, as proud as proud could be,
With extra time he could rehearse, reciting perfectly...

The third guy ran inside at last, determined to be heard,
I'd never seen him run so fast, now he could read each word!
The fourth guy walked in, bid good day explaining what to write
And then when done, he walked away, his face a pure delight!

The fifth guy was hilarious, his poem made us laugh!
Not one of us stayed serious as he walked down the path.
The sixth guy walked in bold as brass, saluted us in turn,
As if he thought we were first class, with nothing left to learn...

The last guy heaved a long, long sigh... for sad his poem was.
It told why Jesus had to die upon the cruel cross...
His poem was the best of all, of that there was no doubt.
It shared the Gospel by Saint Paul, who loved the Lord throughout.

So finally, we said goodbye, the Poem Pals all gone...
My neighbour's spirit soaring high, because God's light had shone.
The Poem Pals would call again, so poets could be blessed,
In time, to be Fishers of Men, who seek to do their best...


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.

This is a follow-up poem to The Impatient Poem:

tinyurl-dot-com/the-impatient-poem

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The Only Poem Is The Poem/ At The Moment Of Its Writing

THE ONLY POEM IS THE POEM

The only poem is the poem
At the moment of its writing
The poem being lived now
The poem I am trying to make
The poem of these lines.

The only poem now is this one-
And this poem is so small and so self- reflexive
That it is not much of a poem at all.

The only poem is not much of a poem at all
This one
And me now? .

But what about everything else I have not done?

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This is a poem....

This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.

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A Poem

i like to read your poem
and i like to say it is a poem
there is a difference
of course
between the two statements
i like to read
it is your poem but i may
after reading
that
saying that i am honest though
and can distinguish a poem
from one that is not a poem
that your poem is one that i only
like to read
and may
say that it is not your poem
but it is yours you are sure of that
but what i am saying is that
i am reading your poem
but i feel that it is not
a poem after all
i can say one when i read one
so i just say i like reading your poem
which could not really be a poem
not even prose
i just like it
but it is not anything about what
i feel i like it to be
a poem or prose
i am reading it, it isn't
like this one for instance
you know that
now.

poem by Ric S. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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Somewhere At The Edge Of A Poem

SOMEWHERE AT THE EDGE OF A POEM

Somewhere at the edge of a poem
Is another poem
And that poem too leads to another
And poem after poem
The whole of a life is written.

And when not one single line of that poem is read
It goes down into the ground as if it never were.

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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!

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