What's My Reason For Picking Up A Pen (Italian Sonnet)
What's My Reason For Picking Up A Pen (Italian Sonnet)
What's my reason for picking up a pen
If all has been written throughout all time
There are only so many words that rhyme
Repeating the same themes over again
Much has been written of the life of men
Many of them ring out with the same chime
For they speak of mountains and mankind's climb
And the struggles to overcome our sin
The universe is a marvelous place
Filled with galaxies and more galaxies
There's many wonders in what we call space
I wonder if man will possess their keys
Will aliens accept the human race
Or will they see us as chaff in the breeze
Edwin Tanguma (10/05/2011)
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Of A Great Day
One reason to cross the line of hazards
Composes me a story to lead the eternal life.
Heaven will only take it, fury collapses,
Can you not give this fury to me?
The reason to be a queen frustrates the queen,
Who is a king in the middle of time?
The tusks of youth conjure a plan to maraud
The follies of founders, the tyrants are awake.
The world will break, the words shall speak
Of a great day, shining forwards
Into the universe of pain.
Heaven resides in the galaxies far away,
Jostling between the mountains of old,
Oldness makes you think, old work is a subjugation.
One reason to meet a pain is to partake in pleasure,
And the pleasant health is the wise world.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Scare Me
You Scare Me (This one is written for and about poetry. It is not meant to or for any person in general)
You scare me
More than you'll ever know
That is why
I feel that I must go
Edwin Tanguma (9/28/2011)
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Mountains
Everyone has their mountains
that they want to climb,
mountains whose summits
reach up and touch the sky.
We go through our lives
climbing our mountains
and at times, we stumble
and slip a little behind.
Picking ourselves up
then start our trek again
never losing sight
of what lays a head.
One day we will reach the summit
and stand there breathing in
the clear cool air
when we finally get there.
Our achievement is recorded
along with all the other
mountains we’ve had to climb.
Our testament of determination.
It’s our dreams that seem elusive
until we make them come true
through our struggles and modifications
to taste the clear cool air.
(22 May 2011)
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will The Words Come Back?
Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?
13 July 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Are The Aliens
WE ARE THE ALIENS
We are the aliens we are trying to fight,
we are from other planets we see in the telescopes at night.
Don’t think we haven’t been there before,
we have lived many lives, maybe millions or more.
So try and make an illusion of aliens in outer space,
we are own aliens killing each other every day.
Written By Christina Sunrise on December 25,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing Poetry Is A Cosmic Trip (Italian Sonnet)
Writing Poetry Is A Cosmic Trip (Italian Sonnet)
Writing poetry is a cosmic trip
There are infinite possibilities
Its like sailing a ship upon the seas
You never know what will roll off your lip
There are times you have to shoot from the hip
It's easy to write about birds and bees
Its hard when you write about ticks and fleas
People want to read what's modern and hip
Most cultures change as time goes rolling by
The arts are constantly evolving too
The artist must always be flexible
He must be like the fox cunning and sly
A poet is a master of word cull
He should not think can I he must just do
Edwin Tanguma (10/06/2011)
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Will Miss All Of You
I Will Miss All Of You
I have grown weary
Of writing poetry ‘til dawn
I don't think that you all will miss me
When I am finally gone
Poetry is my love
And I will miss her much
But when it comes to poems
I have written a bunch
I will miss all of you
Whom I call my friends
If it were not for you all
I would never have picked up my pens
Maybe one day I will come back
To play with you all with our words
For there will always be the many
Who think that our poetry is for the birds
Edwin Tanguma 2/28/2012
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picking Up The Pieces
Take cover, young lovers,
fall apart at the seams
It's stainless steel, that's how I feel,
you're the girl of my dreams
Well I tried to call you on the phone,
your dad said that you weren't at home
But we are, picking up the pieces of our lovin'
over and over again
Picking up the pieces let's do it again
We're picking up the pieces,
picking up the pieces of our love
Well, I need your lovin'
to show me what I am
And I want your body
to make me feel like a man
You know that I'm down on my knees,
you know it's you that I want to please, please
Picking up the pieces of our lovin'
over and over again
Picking up the pieces let's do it again
We're picking up the pieces,
picking up the pieces of our love
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picking It Up
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up...
Like that does not ensure,
Self assurance to occur.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up...
Like that does not ensure,
Self assurance to occur.
It is a strategy that one should seek.
With satisfaction first examined.
To make sure that one increases harmony!
With a proactive way,
Of life to live.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
It is the heat that one releases.
When nothing satisfies to analyzing eyes...
Only seeing with a vision that's fixed.
As if in a tunnel,
To rip through quick.
It's not a riddle when one plays it second fiddle,
Oh...
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
With proactive actions to prevent blurs.
And...
Don't be vague!
Proactive actions do prevent blurs.
Don't be vague.
Proactive actions do prevent,
The making of excuses.
Proactive actions do prevent blurs.
Don't be vague.
Proactive actions do prevent,
The making of excuses.
Proactive actions do prevent blurs.
Don't be vague.
Proactive actions do prevent,
The making of excuses.
Oh...
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
From the middle can be critical.
Picking it up.
Picking it up.
Picking it up,
One should think of self assurance that endures.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No One Here Has Been Invited To Do The Boogey
With a-pitching and a bale-ing all day the hay.
And a-picking the tobacco...
Everyday until the Sun fades away,
Reminisces up my ancestors.
With a reminiscing up their lives...
And what it takes,
For me to stay...
As I am this day today.
Is a reason why I pride my dignity.
That's the reason why I walk around...
With identity!
That's the reason why I walk.
That's the reason why I walk.
That's the reason why I walk around...
With identity!
No time to do a hi-dee-hey!
And no time to drink up my hard earned pay,
To be buzzed around...
From midnight until dawn!
No...
No time to do a hi-dee-hey.
And no time to drink up my hard earned pay...
To whisper gossip,
With a nonstop to dropp it.
Like if I cropped it.
To then sweep a floor...
As I whistled while mopping it.
No!
With a-pitching and a bale-ing all day the hay.
And a-picking the tobacco...
Everyday until the Sun fades away,
No!
To then sweep a floor...
As I whistled while mopping it.
No!
Like if I cropped it,
With a nonstopping to it?
No!
That's the reason why I walk.
That's the reason why I walk.
That's the reason why I walk around...
With identity!
That's the reason why I walk.
That's the reason why I walk.
That's the reason why I walk around...
With identity!
'Uh...
You?
The 'artist'!
I like your footwork.
But no one here has been invited to do the boogey!
Got that?
Good!
Now do your chores! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is There Life on Mars?
Up Up Up and Up into outer space
one giant leap for man and the human race,
blasting up towards that heavenly place
did you see aliens or angels face to face?
What's it like to walk on the Moon
do you think there's life on Mars or Neptune?
is time in space really fast or very slow
answers to questions wed all like to know.
When your so high amongst the stars in the sky
are you in awe, do you wonder, do you ask why?
they say you can feel the presence of God
when floating about in your space capsule pod.
From tiny Pluto to the red planet of Mars
Comets, Black Holes, and Shooting Stars,
mysteries and wonders so far away
where twenty four hours don't make up a day.
But after all of these years what do we find?
that there's no other life to worry mankind
but rockets still ascend up so high
leaving us earthlings to ask the question why?
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Are The Aliens
We are the aliens we are trying to fight,
we are from other planets we see in the telescopes at night.
Don’t think we haven’t been there before,
we have lived many lives, maybe millions or more.
So try and make an illusion of aliens in outer space,
we are own aliens killing each other every day.
Written By Christina Sunrise on December 25,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What More Is There To Do
What More Is There To Do
What more is there to do
What more is there to say
At times poetry seems
Like it is mere child's play
Edwin Tanguma (10/9/2011)
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Hearts Are Entwined
Two hearts are entwined
Throughout space and time
With obstacle's which
Both of them must climb
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beware Words Written
words celebrating what is written
beware allure of beauty in words written
seek instead words thoughts not written
words not written thoughts not written
themes not written which need to be written
the importance of the unwritten demands writing
important world needs consciousness needs writing
urgent global necessity issues demands needs writing
actions resolutions policy change harmony restoration needs writing
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Years
Picking up the pieces of my life
I wonder why the hell I ever came here
A man without a future left to face
And nothing but a memory to embrace
Holding on to threads of sanity
Imagining the roads I could have taken
It fills me with a deepening sense of shame
And outside I can hear the pouring rain
There is a place
Where in my mind I escape
And there I understand the way I feel
And deep in this world of make-believe
I will spend my autumn years with you
Sitting in this grey and sunless world
I try to come to terms with guilty feelings
A man about to pay the final price
And nothing but his breath to sacrifice
Therell be a time
When Ill be gone from your mind
A fading ghost that soon will disappear
And deep in my would of endless pain
I must face my autumn years
Im picking up the pieces, Im picking up the pieces
Im picking up the pieces, Im picking up the pieces
Picking up the pieces of my life
song performed by by Johnny Hates Jazz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind Space
Call me by my astral name
Breeding fear through wordless tounge
Heavenly thirst - unspeakable pain
Emptied from all human motion
Confront the faceless wrath
Beckoning silent from a sphere behind space
Through twisted ruins of uncompleted dreams
Sights of towers reaching for the moon
Clawing at the skies - they gonna pull it down
Intensity - I feel the lava rushing through my veins
Stars are reforming - to enter the fourth dimension
Beyond all galaxies
Through timeless eons of frost
Unearthly hunger - angels descent
We are entering dimensions behind space...
Beyond all galaxies
Through timeless eaons of frost
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gods Of War And Reason
Life is controlled by the Gods of War
No man can escape his part in this role
The thirst for power and drive for control
Is an all consuming fire that burns in his soul
For the Gods of Reason, a small part in the show
For reason takes time and is much too slow
Man however is impatient and cruel
Power consumes life and burns like a fuel
The reason in man is tempered by time
Power after all, needs no reason or rhyme
Reason is a luxury to the race of man
No other species thinks that far in advance
If a drive for power appears or exists
The Gods of War slay all who resist
If only the Gods of Reason ruled the race of man
Life would have been peaceful, from the time it began
poem by Eric Paeplow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gearhead
Written by John Mellencamp
As the sound bounds in the street
And you settle down to your back seat
And the movement seems to be
.......
And all the jokes that you use to poke
At all the dopes you were once seen with
And every word that you had ??
Was looking up to you for a reason
And you joke at all the words that you spoke
And you say hey man I was only teasing
And the rhyme is no longer in time
And all the words are not the words you been needin'
Well your not alone, you can feel right at home
You've been fully wronged, into position
Its the nature of the race, in an old type of place ??
Cause they'll spit in your face in their conditioned
And now you think to yourself, what is left for tomorrow
And it seems kinda strange, there's nothing left to gain
And nothing left to borrow
And the mistake your about to make
Will be the final take of your sorrow
(Chorus)
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cosmos
Filth,
The energy of Satan!
My love crowds the galaxies of delight:
A man of space invites you,
A beleaguered friend causes the universe
To happen once and for all,
For love is the engineer of souls,
It causes us to accept creation
And the cosmos.
My creed is Love;
Whenever its flavour turns sour or sweet,
That is my solution,
My justice for all in Space.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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