Sonnet: My Poetry Today
Each poem that I write, gives me new hope;
Each sonnet I compose- fresh lease of life;
With Poesy’s wings, problems I can cope;
My heavy heart’s relieved; so is my strife.
My every line of verse gives me great joy;
My every theme new/old, has truths to tell;
New genres/techniques, I wish to employ;
With peace renewed, my heart and mind are well.
Sometimes, I feel I tell the same old things!
But it is not so: I tell in different ways;
In words of melody great, my heart sings;
And thus, I forget my unpleasant days.
Despite my grief, my face keeps wearing smiles;
In Poesy’s domain, I’ve traveled miles.
9-20-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: In the Wings of Poesy
How far do I go in poesy’s wings?
I keep asking myself again, again;
From my inspired heart, my poem just springs,
To the clouds and sky, descending like rain.
How high a can I fly with Poesy’s Wings?
Sky high and beyond to the Stellar Space!
I can meanwhile do acrobatic things,
In this newer field too, I feel an ace.
The more I fly and higher in the sky,
Poesy’s Wings grow stronger everyday;
I shall do this ably until I die;
A record new, it will become one day.
God gave me Wings and showed me how to fly!
All praise and glory is His, the One High.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Woman Who Loves Poesy
She has a twenty years old daughter but she leads a single life
And she knows what it feels like to be a mother but not to be a wife
Her great love is Goddess Poesy only poesy she admire
And her creative source it comes from poesy and poesy in her verse inspire.
She writes such beautiful poetry as a poet she is well known
And as a genuine wordsmith her reputation it has grown
The woman who loves poesy is good at what she do
At least one can say of her to her own self she is true.
Since writing poetry can be a hungry belly game the well informed say
She works as a bar maid in the Golf Club Rooms for to earn her hard earned pay
But all of her spare time devoted to poesy since poetry she loves to write
Her poems on many different subjects are a source of delight
To poetry lovers who read her verses and many of her say
That from penning verse she will grow wealthy and become quite well known one day
But she does not write for fame or money she only writes because she
Happens for to be a person devoted to Goddess Poesy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Author's Early Life
I will write a sketch of my early life,
It will be of childhood day,
And all who chance to read it,
No criticism, pray.
My childhood days were happy,
And it fills my heart with woe,
To muse o'er the days that have passed by
And the scenes of long ago.
In the days of my early childhood,
Kent county was quite wild,
Especially the towns I lived in
When I was a little child.
I will not speak of my birthplace,
For if you will only look
O'er the little poem, My Childhood Days,
That is in this little book.
I am not ashamed of my birthright,
Though it was of poor estate,
Many a poor person in our land
Has risen to be great.
My parents were poor, I know, kind friends,
But that is no disgrace;
They were honorable and respected
Throughout my native place.
My mother was an invalid,
And was for many a year,
And I being the eldest daughter
Her life I had to cheer.
I had two little sisters,
And a brother which made three,
And dear mother being sickly,
Their care it fell on me.
My parents moved to Algoma
Near twenty-three years ago,
And bought one hundred acres of land,
That's a good sized farm you know.
It was then a wilderness,
With tall forest trees abound,
And it was four miles from a village,
Or any other town.
And it was two miles from a schoolhouse,
That's the distance I had to go,
And how many times I traveled
Through summer suns and winter snow.
How well do I remember
Going to school many a morn,
Both in summer and in winter,
Through many a heavy storm.
My heart was gay and happy,
This was ever in my mind,
There is better times a coming,
And I hope some day to find
Myself capable of composing.
It was by heart's delight,
To compose on a sentimental subject
If it came in my mind just right.
If I went to school half the time,
It was all that I could do;
It seems very strange to me sometimes,
And it may seem strange to you.
It was natural for me to compose,
And put words into rhyme,
And the success of my first work
Is this little song book of mine.
My childhood days have passed and gone,
And it fills my heart with pain
To think that youth will nevermore
Return to me again.
And now kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o'er,
And not criticise as some have done,
Hitherto herebefore.
poem by Julia A Moore
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The Melody Of My Heart
my heart is on the rise
and fall
my heart's melody is as nice
than all
like the leaves
on the tree by the river
my heart is a melody
to the birds of love,
life and all that worth
as i walked the earth
with the melody
of my heart from then
and sang to my heart a melody
i explore an adventure
of the melody in my heart
and art a melody of my heart
with fingers dancing to the heart
my veins rain with melody of the heart
i feel the heart
in talk and melody
and that melody
is the melody
of my heart
my heart is a melody
to the words of a rhythm
its music from the heart
a melody of emotions,
feelings, love and death
...after all,
it is the melody of my heart
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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A poem for you...
I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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On Looking Back Upon My Poesy's Past!
For long a time, I've travelled by this road!
For quite some years, I'd taken poesy's wings;
For hours on end, I struggled with my pen;
A lifetime's work is already now writ!
I did not start expecting great rewards;
I do not hanker for any awards;
I know I'm one among the well-known bards;
My accolades are not yet in my cards!
Many a thing, we do for love of it;
Some things we do better, for we are fit;
Most things in life don't duly get lime-lit;
Nevertheless, we carry on by wit!
But seasons ought to change as time goes on;
It is not good to have always the sun;
Some things in life remain for long half-done;
But pride is one thing we must always shun!
Good poetry must guide the future men;
Good poetry must make the earth, heaven;
Good poetry must kindle heart and ken;
When readers read them, they must say, ‘amen! '
I have done well despite my struggles past;
This earthly span may not for longer last;
My ship of poesy has now a mast;
But I have reached the ocean very vast!
poem by John Celes
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A Song About You
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You’re all I can every think about
How you flood my dreams each night
How thinking of you takes my breath away
When I look up to the satellites
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
The long lost butterflies returned
How I hope my number you’ll dial
And how your memory smothers me with smiles
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You were the only one
Who had enough of me to break my heart
And when love took over my heart
You tore it all apart.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
I gave you my heart
Caught up in the thought
That we were off to a great start
But how you threw a damn dart
Right into the center of my heart
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
About how you crushed my heart
Not bothering to look back.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
poem by Jess Schwarcz
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You Don't Stop Writing Girl, Go Girl Go
You don't stop writing girl
You cannot stop, It is part of your nerves now.
Each vein looks for the proper word.
Each red blood corpuscle has become a syllable
For an imaginary poem in your mind.
Each beat of your heart recites a rhyme
A rhythm. A sonnet. A couplet.
Each curl in your cerebellum thinks of
An imagery. Another metaphor comes
And you grasp them with each breath.
You are alive girl. Go girl stop watching
The snow and make your imagination
Run wild like a snowstorm.
The sound of a snowfall. A snowflake
Layering on the side of your window pane
Speaks to you about this coldness
This beautiful sound of a very lonely song
Harking for Love.
Far away from your homeland
You weep for a while and then recover
Compose yourself and see your face in that mirror.
You are strong. You are as vast as the ten thousand miles
Away from us.
Go girl. Another poem knocks at the door of your heart.
Write it. Write about a chaff. The grain. The wheat germ.
Go girl. You are one of us, chosen not to speak
But to write.
I am waiting for your next poem. Gladly, I am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My other Talent –Poesy
God is to me very kind;
To His tenets, I always bind;
My Poetry is but His gift!
My soul from Him can’t shift
Yet, peace of mind gets disturbed oft,
In search of worldly pleasures loft;
In vain, I seek them, time is lost;
And soul remains sin-cast.
My foes and woes trouble me much;
Sometimes, I feel I am a wretch!
And when I search my mind again,
God helps me solace regain.
My Poesy has made me fit;
My body, mind, soul bit by bit;
I talk with God who guides me right;
He tells me what’s wrong, correct.
With time, my soul regains due course;
My Poetry, my sin absolves;
Immersed in it, I find great peace,
Of mind and I am at ease.
Thoughts divine in me prevail;
My ship of Poesy sets sail;
It is an unchartered voyage;
That’s safe with God’s message.
God is my beacon and compass!
Invisible Captain of my ship;
I am the driver, novice,
‘Tis my maiden voyage.
My heart is full of confidence;
Impermanent’s my residence;
The weather lovely, calm for now;
My ship is on the move somehow!
poem by John Celes
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The message of poetry
How can I think of serious things,
when the air is alive,
with the flutter of wings,
How can I focus on writing a sonnet
When the lady beside me,
is knitting a bonnet.
How can I think of what comes next
when I am trying my hardest
to put it to text.
How can I feel the words in my mind,
when I am looking for one
that I canot find.
How can I concentrate, grave and subued
Then it's best I try,
and get in the right mood.
So come on you folks,
dont be solemn and glum,
join with me, share your words and jokes.
Lets make a start,
let them come from the heart.
God's in his Heaven,
summer is on it's way,
make haste with the pen,
and don't delay.
Write a short verse,
with these words in mind,
then the rest will come easy, your sure to find.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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Decay
O Poesy is on the wane,
For Fancy's visions all unfitting;
I hardly know her face again,
Nature herself seems on the flitting.
The fields grow old and common things,
The grass, the sky, the winds a-blowing;
And spots, where still a beauty clings,
Are sighing 'going! all a-going!'
O Poesy is on the wane,
I hardly know her face again.
The bank with brambles overspread,
And little molehills round about it,
Was more to me than laurel shades,
With paths of gravel finely clouted;
And streaking here and streaking there,
Through shaven grass and many a border,
With rutty lanes had no compare,
And heaths were in a richer order.
But Poesy is on the wane,
I hardly know her face again.
I sat beside the pasture stream,
When Beauty's self was sitting by,
The fields did more than Eden seem
Nor could I tell the reason why.
I often drank when not adry
To pledge her health in draughts divine;
Smiles made it nectar from the sky,
Love turned een water into wine.
O Poesy is on the wane,
I cannot find her face again.
The sun those mornings used to find,
Its clouds were other-country mountains,
And heaven looked downward on the mind,
Like groves, and rocks, and mottled fountains.
Those heavens are gone, the mountains grey
Turned mist--the sun, a homeless ranger,
Pursues alone his naked way,
Unnoticed like a very stranger.
O Poesy is on the wane,
Nor love nor joy is mine again.
Love's sun went down without a frown,
For very joy it used to grieve us;
I often think the West is gone,
Ah, cruel Time, to undeceive us.
The stream it is a common stream,
Where we on Sundays used to ramble,
The sky hangs oer a broken dream,
The bramble's dwindled to a bramble!
O Poesy is on the wane,
I cannot find her haunts again.
Mere withered stalks and fading trees,
And pastures spread with hills and rushes,
Are all my fading vision sees;
Gone, gone are rapture's flooding gushes!
When mushrooms they were fairy bowers,
Their marble pillars overswelling,
And Danger paused to pluck the flowers
That in their swarthy rings were dwelling.
Yes, Poesy is on the wane,
Nor joy nor fear is mine again.
Aye, Poesy hath passed away,
And Fancy's visions undeceive us;
The night hath ta'en the place of day,
And why should passing shadows grieve us?
I thought the flowers upon the hills
Were flowers from Adam's open gardens;
But I have had my summer thrills,
And I have had my heart's rewardings.
So Poesy is on the wane,
I hardly know her face again.
And Friendship it hath burned away,
Like to a very ember cooling,
A make-believe on April day
That sent the simple heart a-fooling;
Mere jesting in an earnest way,
Deceiving on and still deceiving;
And Hope is but a fancy-play,
And Joy the art of true believing;
For Poesy is on the wane,
O could I feel her faith again!
poem by John Clare
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Dearly Beloved (write To Me)
Write me a poem, dearly beloved,
Write of your love, your fidelity, your proclivity
For doing what is right for me, not what is right;
Speak to me of what you feel
Not sugared words served on pity tarts
Write me a poem, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
Write me a prose, dearly beloved,
Then narrate it on an elevated stand
To the heavens and the sea and whatever lies betwixt
The shadows of both so that all can hear;
Speak only truth for I cannot stomach lies of such art
Write me a prose, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
Write me a sonnet, dearly beloved
And sing it by the edge of the fast flowing stream
Sing to me as if you sang to all the forest
And called forth its life from the concealing leaves of jade
And of this assembly of the innocent, I shall be an active part
So write me a sonnet, dearly beloved,
If you cannot, then contend to break my heart.
poem by Samah Khan
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My Rondel
When I was hatred I was great,
While I, today, all things above,
Am great – great for I feel I’m love,
Great for with Lethe I share the fate.
Yes, mercilessness makes you great,
But high you fly, high like a dove
When nothing is your heart but love,
When mercy does your soul elate.
I know: all things bear sorrow’s weight,
Through life in ignorance we rove,
But every solace is in love,
And even if distress be great,
Elation is: forgive, forget.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski from The Poem Of Rondels (1927), translated by Dan Duţescu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Let This One Poem Be About Me
Let this one poem be just about me
Let this one poem engulf all my beauty
Let this one poem define my soul
Let this one poem consume me whole
My soul was earth bound
And my heart lay in a place that it would never be found
Let this poem be what entangles my mind
Let this poem be where people will find
They will find that missing link
And this poem it will make them think
They will wonder how this girl came
They will wonder how I avoided fame
I didn’t write these words to please
I wrote these words to tease
My heart it’s the type that beckons for ease
And my taste will not accept the flavor of peas
Let this poem describe me in most simplest of ways
Let this poem show how I get through these days
And I know people will read this and say…
This girl she knew where heart lay…
Let this poem eat me whole
Let me entire heart bleed its luscious love into a broken bowl
My soul wanted only to be free
And this poem only pushed it back into me
I never will lose any part of my soul
Because then this world will swallow my inner being whole
Let this poem be what I hate
Let this poem describe with who I would mate
Let this thoughts become my ways
Let this poem be where I stray
Let this poem show how I lie
Let this poem describe how I will die
Yes I am human I cannot avoid death
Yes I am human I chose not to use meth
These words they dance upon this page
These words they have no age
These verses have lost all meaning
Because I revealed my demeaning
Let this poem describe what I deem right
Let this poem that I will always fight
My age floats through these words
And people will never understand why I want to be heard
Let this poem be only about me
Let this poem be what sets me free
And I know some day people will look at this and say…
This girl, this girl she knew exactly where her heart lay…
poem by Victoria Martinez
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Heart And Minf Fight
My mind says,
Stay in the room
My heart says,
See the universe
My mind says,
She has only a body
My heart says,
She has a beautiful soul
My mind says,
Get the degree
My heart says,
Get the knowledge
My mind says,
Kill the neighbor
My heart says,
Love the neighbor
My mind says,
Plunder the entire world
My heart says,
Give to the world
My mind says,
God is not here
My heart says,
God is here
My mind says,
Rule on the earth
My heart says,
Live equal on the earth
My mind says,
Invent new weapons
My heart says,
Keep the peace
My mind says,
He is a small man
My heart says,
He is a big man
My mind says
He is ignorant
My heart says,
He is wise
My mind says,
Live for money
My heart says,
Live in love
My mind says,
He heart you
My heart says,
Forget his mistake
My mind says,
Don’t agree with his opinion
My heart says,
I respect his opinion
My mind says,
You are great poet
My heart says,
You are nothing
poem by Aroon George
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Not Much Of A Poem
THE PROBLEMS AND PAINS OF LIFE
The problems and pains of life
Destroy Poetry
One loses heart
And can barely write a single word
What is the point of more words
When they do not solve the real problems?
Another poem
About the inability to write Poetry
Is written.
NOT MUCH OF A POEM
A poem that is written
To help convince its writer
That he can do something
Is probably
Not much of a Poem.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sonnet: Count on God
God is the best refuge for all in life;
Just count on Him; He surely can do things,
And mitigate our sufferings and strife,
And make the common men to look like kings.
Just trust in God and allow Him to deal,
With problems which we cannot hope to solve;
For God alone can wounds of heart/mind heal,
And complexities of our life resolve.
No one dare challenge pow’r of Almighty!
All live and lifeless things obey His words;
He’s the only path to Eternity,
The Good Shepherd on earth to many herds.
God’s wisdom to men chosen never fails;
There is a wind that drives life’s boat with sails.
8-12-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: With God’s Help
‘Come to my aid God, ’ whenever I need,
For, without Thee, my life’s vessel could sink;
With Thee, my Lord, I’ll do great things indeed!
Like how with Thine inspiration, I ink.
Prepare me Lord for life’s challenges,
And make me wary, alert, sensible;
And like sore-throat, soothen’d by lozenges,
Soothen my heart with words from the Bible.
Show me Thy unique ways to solve problems;
Let despair not entwine my human heart;
Let flowers new, blossom forth from old-stems,
And let Thine wisdom help me further art.
O use me Lord, for any purpose, God!
In case I fail, do spare me from Thy rod.
8-6-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love The Word Hope
I love the word hope 'tis a great word it keeps reminding you when you are down
That in many ways you are lucky you are not the worst off in the town
Compared to some you are quite lucky and though you may not be one of the privileged few
There's hope and comfort in the thought that many are worse off than you.
I love the word hope it seems positive to hope for the good days ahead
For life for you is scarce worth living if the hope in your heart it is dead
To hope for a better tomorrow is the thing that keeps us keeping on
For you do not have much to live for if hope out of your life is gone.
I love the word hope it's uplifting for those who are feeling quite low
For as they say hope springs eternal and out of hope success can grow
And one can only see a dark future for one who is struggling to cope
If that person has lost the great gift the gift that we all know as hope.
I love the word hope it's a great gift those who have it in them have fight
They keep on going through the dark tunnel till finally they reach the light
And when you retain hope through your hard days you are telling the World I'm alive
For without it life on you much harder and you find it so hard to survive.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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