Pavers Of Life
I must make a trip to London
and walk on the pavers of life.
I must feel the death of the poets
that endured the mental strife
of not enough time to ink the page,
for death came early during that age.
I must feel their messages in my mind
and experience the force of words
coursing through my body, my soul
and in my heart like a thousand birds.
For I feel the call to reconnect
and praise these poets with respect.
For poets live in the hearts of men
and paint pictures over and again
with eloquent phrases one by one
filling their pages until they're done.
I must make a trip to London
from whence my journey had begun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Trip Like I Do
I've got the understanding of a 4-year-old
I've got the piece of mind of a killer soul
I've got the rationale of a new york cop
I've got the patience of a chopping block yeah
Trip like i do
Trip like i do (oh my god this is the best)
I've got the acumen of a season broke
I've got the lack of say of a billion souls
I've got the world on my back but i don't seem to care
I've got the comprehension of a world unaware yeah
Trip like i do
Trip like i do (oh my god this is the best)
Trip like i do (mm..i want you to trip like i do)
Can't you, can't you trip like i do
Can't you, can't you trip like i do
Laid down my back i can't sleep cause i'm falling
Eyes in my teeth i can't see cause i'm eating
Head full of noise i can't think cause it's crushing
Back on my feet like a freight train i'm coming
Can everybody feel like i do
Can everybody feel like i do (oh my god)
Can't you can't you trip like i do
Can't you can't you trip like i do (oh my god)
Can't you trip can't you think can't you feel like i do
Can't you walk can't you breathe can't you trip like i do...
Like me...
song performed by by Filter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Can't You) Trip Like I Do
I've got the understanding of a 4-year-old
I've got the piece of mind of a killer soul
I've got the rationale of a new york cop
I've got the patience of a chopping block yeah
trip like I do
trip like I do (oh my god this is the best)
I've got the acumen of a season broke
I've got the lack of say of a billion souls
I've got the world on my back but I don't seem to care
I've got the comprehension of a world unaware yeah
trip like i do
trip like I do (oh my god this is the best)
trip like i do (mm..i want you to trip like i do)
can't you, can't you trip like i do
can't you, can't you trip like I do
laid down my back i can't sleep cause I'm falling
eyes in my teeth i can't see cause i'm eating
head full of noise I can't think cause it's crushing
back on my feet like a freight train I'm coming
can everybody feel like I do
can everybody feel like I do (oh my god)
can't you can't you trip like I do
can't you can't you trip like I do (oh my god)
can't you trip can't you think can't you feel like I do
can't you walk can't you breathe can't you trip like I do...
like me
song performed by by Filter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poet's page
Like a band of beggars
Revealing to each other
Where to find the bread
Is the poets page
An open line
Where poets reveal what's
Inside their heads
A platform of
Artistic exchange
Where an accompany of poets
Express what should be said,
As the
Words seems to take on life
For they are poet read
Poets can feel one anothers pain
As well as relates to each
others shame
Emphasizing on a topic is
A poet's personal lane
Poets dvides the spoil
As they expand, due to
sharing their gain
This is partly my analogy
Of a poet's fame
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Society of Poets
bring all the cymbals and the tambourine, and we
will make a holiday; with the paint all can color the
day of today that last for a lifetime, a happy endless
ending of what the future brings
come little soldiers of the time, forward the pen
and the load your body with the mind that savory the
essence of the every events, always see and dance
with the rhyme and sing every lyric the moment that
you put your ink in the pen
countless footprints can be print in the brush you
hold any time the color surpass, make it beautiful and
furnished it with emotion, a feeling that nobody had
ever made, only thy faithful heart can read the
meaning of the day
let the east and the west poets rejoice for in every
joy and happiness, the world remember our call, the
heart that is posted in the soul, revive the spirit of we
always call, may peace reborn in every move, and as
the day will never end; the hour will be the same again
what a lucky day, where all poets of the world would
always stay in the pen their heart makes all the way,
ink the paper and paint your design in the frame you
hold, live and share the legacy the beauty of yesterday
society of poets......... the heart of the past and the soul
of today
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For All The Poets
FOR ALL THE POETS
This is a poem for all the poets who have no name,
For all those who have written and failed,
And for those who have not written,
And failed.
This is a poem for all the poets who dreamed themselves poets,
And were never, and will be known as poets
To the world.
This a poem for all those
Who after years of effort
Still live in an oblivion
They will die in.
This is a poem for all those
Who whether they have poetry in them or not,
Will never be heard or read,
For what their hearts must tell
Someone else.
This is a poem for all the silent poets
Those who live in silence
And whose silence is eternal
For all those whose only poetry
is the poem they have lived within themselves.
This is a poem for all those who would- be poets
And a poem for those
Who despite their efforts
Did not make their poem known.
This is a poem which may be for you,
And I know is for me
A confession
To make us less alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Poets?
When a poem is read
A reader's home is entered
Where dwells a kindred spirit
You laugh…you cry
You groan and you sigh
You feel and taste and hear it
We bring tears to eyes
Smiles to lips…
Memories to mind
We make you think
With pen and ink
And open minds once blind
That music is a source of joy
Of that, of course there is
No doubt
But words and phrases
Ink on pages, of that
We'd ne'er do without
It's a gift given to very few
In truth, this game
of words and phrases
Of measurable worth?
Of real value none?
Of real time and of real places?
So why the need for you and me?
What place have we…Poets,
In grand schemes, of things and matters?
…It's because….
We give wings to words
That soar like birds
And oftimes leave your heart
…in tatters…
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh These Poets And Their Sounds
OH THESE POETS AND THEIR SOUNDS
Oh these poets and their sounds
Their distant rhythms
Which take your soul away-
Oh these poets and their sounds
And the longing to be
One of them-
Oh this poet
And all his cry of loneliness-
Oh these poets and their sounds,
And he in his own small voice
Crying out lonely words
Before his own lonely page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London
My visits to London always bring me cheer;
I wish it were possible to bottle the atmosphere.
I would collect together all the sights and sounds,
And surround myself with them, when I’m down.
A trip to London always seems to lift my mood;
By good old London town, I’m easily wooed.
There is always something new and exciting,
Which is why, to me, London seems so inviting.
I may begin a day feeling just a little bit down,
But once in London, a smile replaces my frown.
It’s one of my very favourite places to be;
There’s always so much to do and to see.
I think that London is such an amazing place;
It can suit all your needs, whatever your pace.
In central London, people are always in a rush,
But in the gardens and parks, can be found, hush.
When in London, I always feel on such a high;
My problems, for the day, I can kiss goodbye.
At the end of the day, I don’t want to leave.
The heady mix of aromas, I love to breathe.
I always find it so very hard, to pull myself away,
When, deep in my heart, I desperately want to stay.
Even when, at Waterloo, I’m sat on my train;
In London, a little piece of my heart remains.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.
quote by T.S. Eliot (1920)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feel
I gave you everything all I could give
It might not have been the life you thought youd live
I know it feels good to have you by my side
Even though I know you could just break my heart wide
I just have to ask you, one more time...
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I help you see like stars and the sun?
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I make you feel like lifes just begun?
Its like a puzzle, a piece that just fit
You never really needed to look for it
In your eyes I see my future and my past
I never really thought that we would last
I just have to ask you, one more time...
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I help you see like stars and the sun?
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I make you feel like lifes just begun?
We have seen all the good times and the bad
Waitin' for the next part we never had
To the highest mountain, yeah, I would climb
I just have to ask you, one more time
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I make you see like stars and the sun?
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I make you feel like lifes just begun?
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I help you see like stars and the sun?
Did I make you feel like number one?
Did I make you feel like lifes just begun?
song performed by by Zug Izland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want My Poetry
(8/22/12)
I want my poetry to touch the hearts and minds of all who read
And on their emotions my words would feed.
To express to all people no matter who they may be
Or what schooling they may or may not have
That their voices will be heard and told
And their emotions will all unfold.
Every emotion known to man will be written
With a gentle hand.
We as poets can climb into your being
And see what you are seeing, and to feel
Your every emotional pain
For no two are ever the same.
To feel your hunger, your thirst, your needs
And feel the cut vein when you bleed.
To feel your sorrows, your bitterness, your hate
And also feel your religious faith.
We are you - you are us
And in our minds you put your trust.
Let us tell the future generations
That these words were our salvation.
I want to make you feel the splendor
And to my words you will surrender.
To make you feel happy inside
And with a smile you can not hide.
To make you see that ALL LIFE is worthwhile
As you look upon that newborn child.
To let you know that your life was given to you
Because the love your parents knew.
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poets Are Liars
Poets are liars. They cannot be tamed.
They live on borrowed dreams, and have the gift
Of casting out a graceful, witty line,
And catching your heart or mind in their snare;
Reeling you in, helpless, with a deft couplet.
Poets are liars. Never believe them.
Don’t even listen to them if you can help.
They have spells in their tongues, and fire in their eyes.
They will give you suns and stars wrapped in words,
And you will follow them, rapt like a child.
Poets are liars. It’s how they survive.
They give you their lies in exchange for your truths,
And fashion a life of their own from the scraps.
They must have an audience; without it,
They fade and pale, and soon cease to exist.
Poets are liars, even in the womb;
They kick at their mothers, curious, restless,
And dream of wonders to fill the world outside:
Soft, formless lies, growing with each cell,
Chronicled in wordless sagas nine months long.
Poets are liars; and of all liars,
They are the most dangerous. They will tell you
Of love that lasts forever, of lives that changed,
Of happy endings and greater meanings.
They make you wish, and hope, and dream, and feel.
poem by Amy Sutton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Poets
The First Poets hunted game in the forest and on the plains-
inventing signs and gestures; guttural sounds and mime-
and ultimately Words.
The First Poets wrote words and drew pictures
on the walls of caves
stamping their feet to drum-beats;
learning to dance.
The First Poets invented music for their words
religion, books and counting-conjuring up
in each instance-new things.
The First Poets imagined names for plants,
animals, birds and creatures of the sea;
sang songs about them-wrote poems and hymns.
creating sentiment, vows and promises-
marriage ceremonies.
Poets invented the idea of the Idea, of kindness, and visions.
Poets invented hope and the future, love of the past, community.
Poets invented the rhythm of our lives.
Poets re-invent themselves and civilization each generation.
They peer into the gauzy dream and dream what is not yet;
they peer inside themselves
reaching in
with-drawing something new
from that which had not been
there
before.
The First Poets invent and re-invent civilization each generation.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Emit Remmis
The california animal is a bear
Angeleo but the devil mat care
Summer time to talk to and swear
Later maybe we could share some air
Ill take to you the movies there
We could walk through Leicester Square
What could be wetter then
An English girl American man
London in the summer time
Call me now use the satellite
London in the summer time
Cuss me out and itll feel all right
Hesitate but dont refuse
The choice is yours but you said choose
The look she used was green and sharp
Stabbed that boy all in his heart
Come what may the cosmos will
Take me up and down on Primirose Hill
What could be wetter then
An English girl American man
London in the summer time
Call me now use the satellite
London in the summer time
Cuss me out and itll feel all right
Cuss me out and itll feel all right
Its all right now
Call me now use the satellite
Its all right
Its all right
Down and out and itll sound all right
Its all right now
Its all right
The California flower is a poppy child
Felony sends me all the gold in your smile
Drift away from anyone you can
Nothing ever goes according to plan
Though I know that every river bends
What could be wetter then
An English girl American man
London in the summer time
Call me now use the satellite
London in the summer time
Cuss me out and itll feel all right
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London
Through the satellites, I fight with you
That loca l brew is spillin
I know just how you spend your time
I want to get my hands on him
Somebodys party in a london flat
Youre where its at and I know
You want to see me lose my mind
Im tired of chasing after you
The residue is jealous
See me on the d ark side of your mind
I want to get my hands on him
To a club thats pounding in the london rain
The world could end we wouldnt hear it
I know just whats on your mind
I see the way your face has changed
Were no good for each other
You tricked me into coming here
So let go, I dont want to go to london
I told you I dont care
I dont want to go to london
To live there
I dont want to go to london
All your friends afflicted
I dont want to go to london
Shes addicted
I saw you with h im
I know where youve been
That nose is broken wide open
Your way has got me out of line
I want to get my hands on him
You so... to make me
Prove it takes a fight to move you
I know just whats on your mind
Its been this way a thousand years
We torture each other
So why the helld you call me here
When you know
I dont want to go to london
I told you I dont care
I dont want to go to london
Live there
I dont want to go to london
All your friends afflicted
I dont want to go to london
Shes addicted
I dont want to go to london
I told you I dont care
I dont want to go to london
Cause youre not there
I dont want to go to london
Even when I see you
Somewhere else in london
I dont want to go to london
song performed by by Third Eye Blind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Knew What Poets Know
If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unaltered pages
so many want
to be poets
they let words
guide them
(take the lead)
writing in
a high fashion
for the glamour
i suppose
for me
i let my
humble heart and soul
guide me
to my poem
the first words
human uttered
were born there
and still are
for poets
who string verses
that lift readers
to the unaltered
realm (pages) of their life
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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