Oral Poetry
my tongue searches
through the layers of petals,
each curve on the way down;
knowing each cosmos,
and the depth of forever,
coming back to the mouth
of the river again...
lighting the fire,
rubbing sticks together....
till it bursts in flame,
and consumes the darkness...
then slowly bathing
the child, and the old woman...
the poetry of my hunger
screams through your veins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Either/or
either you go
and run free like
a child bathing
naked under the rain
or you wear all your
underwears
and coats and masks
and you hide inside
your room and lock
all your windows
and doors
and disconnect
the electric current
from your doorbell
these are layers and
layers of choices
but whatever that is
that you pick from the rest
that is still poetry to me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No One Steps Twice On The River Of Life...
it is not the rage of this river.
when i was a child, as mother says,
i keep my finger inside my mouth
sucked by my throat, to keep hunger away
beside the bank of this river
i am the spectator
and the river believes in the magic
of my innocence
it flows always in a distant
affection,
it is not the rage of the river,
it is i, the grown up man who goes swimming
in the river and feel
the joys of its cool waters
always moving on towards
a destination
it is the swimming with a friend
and then
with a lover and then with a wife
and then my silence,
what we do not have we force to forget
it is the bathing in the river
the rinsing and the cleansing of the waters
it is not the rage of this river
and then we become too weak to be in this river
the river moves on and on
towards the deepest sea looking for the
opening
i wait by the bank of this river
many things have been missed
the more important ones
the one that gives the posterity of
my humanity
it is denied of me because of this river
that gives me nothing
all the while i was the leaf that fell off from
the tree
on the side of this river
and i floated because i have nothing to do
because i can do nothing about
the flow of the river
i become the dead leaf that the air
rides upon
tossed and bumped on boulders
till i sink
deep down the river
that i shall pass only once.
time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bonfire
stoke the fire!
sticks of prejudice
and hatred...
sticks of greed
and apathy.
sticks of profit
and loss....
sticks of capitalism,
and oil....
sticks of guns,
and patriotism.
sticks of sexual abuse
and addiction...
sticks of oppression,
and slavery....
stoke the fire!
build it up till
it's all gone....
maybe we'll find
...tomorrow..
in the ashes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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More Light
I think the last time I was warm was in my mother
Now Im listening in the darkness
But theres nothing on the wire
Im locked inside the refrigerator
So while I sit and shiver
I rub the sticks together
And if it takes forever
I will find my way back to the fire
Heat is not enough
More light
Love is strong enough
More light
Faith is not enough
More light
Everybody must be touched
I think that we dont need another great communicator
And theres a million extended mixers we are ready to retire
We all face obsolescence sooner or later
So while we sit and shiver
We rub the sticks together
And if it takes forever
We will find our way back to the fire
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Going Back or Staying Here
I can’t fall back
I won’t go back
If there’s one thing I must do
It is to stay here
I’ve got to hold on
Hold out
I can’t fall back
Never go back
I might not escape next time
I can’t go back
Seeping through the cracks
Moving slowly, creeping to me
It wants me
“Come back”, it calls
“You were happy here, you could do anything here”
“We made you who you are”
“Come back”, it calls
Tempting
So unbelievably tempting
I could fall back
It’s just so easy to go back
I’ll let it envelope me
Let it course through my veins
To my brain and heart
Let it fill me up
And explode through me
“Bring me back”, I call
“Bring me back”
Moving faster, sliding on the floor
It screams, “YES! Yes, yes, yes! ”
A foot away it leaps
“Here I come”, I say
Swallow me back into my darkened world
“I’m coming home”
Just close my eyes
“I’m coming home”
Standing still
Nothing moves
Looking the darkness is gone
But something is here
Her arms are around my neck
“I’m home”, she says
I wrap my arms around her
“Yes, you’re home”, I say
Again she saves me
Saves me from going back
She is my light
A little that will never go out
She will never know the darkness in me
But she’ll always guide me home
Because home is only where she is
And the only place I can be safe
Safe next to her
My light, my love
Written: November 18,2010
poem by Ryan Collins
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Fern
This feathered leaf must have fallen from the hand
of the woman who turned around to see
if her child had strayed too close to the slope
of the fuming mountain or the hunting birds,
and left her footprint in ash that hardened
to rock. A spray of seeds released that noon
remains in the thick air, and this gift:
a leaf trapped between layers of mud
that volcanic fire baked into stone:
drained of light and green, long spasm,
breath dusted with pollen, a net
of veins splayed on an altar
where the river turns in its sleep
and an old woman lights a lamp.
poem by Ranjit Hoskote
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Because Of Me
because of me you begin to write poetry
some haikus
and more haikus are coming still
from what you have actually seen
in the river
in the pond
the geese
the leaf sinking
those little things
the worms
and cocoons
because of you i also learned how to read poetry
long enough
for the hours to become so huge
and i was scared by its big mouth
and long slimy tongue
and i stand before it
and let myself be
swallowed
whole
it is dark inside the hours
but my heart was like the sun
shining brightly
at midnight
because of us we have become complete
we have become new breeds
now eating poetry
for breakfast
and lunch
and perhaps, on the next coming days
dinner too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The flame has softer fingers
The flame has softer fingers,
Than petals from a flower,
And it's memory is less
For every hour that it burns,
And the flower isn't jealous,
Of whomever enjoys it's beauty;
While the fire consumes most anything,
And none of it is spurned.
But flowers know almost nothing,
Of how a flame gets started;
And a fire knows even less
Of how a flower grew
Still, they have a slight respect,
In regarding, each the other;
As if each had certain knowledge
Flames and flowers are too few.
So there's a lesson for us,
If we care to pay attention
To living forests forming
Their own funeral pyres:
As the flame hates not rare beauty.
And the flower's not faint-hearted;
If you've never yet been burned:
You don't have to fear the fire.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Victim to persecution
Then you talk a little more about your dreams,
How it involves your thought of rings,
a little more about your needs,
for i bit my tounge,
just for a feed,
for you drag me in the street,
ask me to forgive your mistakes,
put me in misery from your plea,
as i buckle from my knees,
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
It's perjury on your arm,
that was put there by your soul,
your feeling sorry, for not achieving your goals,
tacking in your argument,
as you stated with your thought,
you bring me down,
and destroy my heart,
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
Asking which way is out,
Asking which was not as hard,
Misdirected in your final mount,
as you shout,
cry your lungs out to stay afloat,
yet push me under,
strain to be felt,
pushing me down, holding my throat,
I started to feel the black,
and evil you call your safety boat,
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
toss in the rope, pull it tight,
you might be something,
but what was it like?
examining it close,
you cross your path,
just get it right,
asking for the sight,
to see your destination,
falling victim,
to persecution,
put on a trial,
to discover if your human,
for your life,
failing to corruption,
of your mind,
sorry about how you felt,
but do you know yourself?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes,
but what was it like?
It's slowly you drain my life,
It's slowly your evil consumes! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Matthew Boisjolie
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The Poet's return
So I'm back again, never thinking I'd pick back up this pen, thinking about were my life has taken me, and where will it go next. Im coming to the brink where my life is about to change forever, deciding which path is right, the one that I take or another one that I make. But yet I'm back, back with the same old outlets, back to the same old problems; a tale as old as time itself with the worries of a decade...so im back. I never thought I'd write another poem, but poetry is all around us, its in every breath you take, in every beat your heart makes, in the fluid from your veins from even the fantasies in your brain, POETRY is everywhere. The truth of the matter is poetry, just like a beat of rhyme, is everywhere. Most know it, many adore it, few idolize it, but we all show it. Because one way or another were all are going to use it, and when that day comes....oh such a beautiful vision that our minds well never lose it.
poem by Augustus Gatlin
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
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She Screams
She screams in pain,
She screams out your name,
Watch her suffer,
Suffer into the darkness,
Tomorrow will bring another day,
A day of freedom,
She once thought,
She screams for help,
No one hears her,
A dead silence,
Watch as her friends turn their back on her,
Watch as she bleeds for them,
She hears the howling of the wind,
Knowing that no one can't hear her crying,
She screams,
Screams in agony,
Does anyone hear her,
Does anyone care,
She screams for you,
She screams one last time hoping that someone would hear her,
What will become of her,
Is this girl me or someone else.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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A child's Suffering
The intense flame of withering blooms,
In deep essence of those in tombs.
A child like figure in darkness's shadow,
As his eyes as yellow as cat's eyes glow.
Death takes him home into the deep,
to a never ending painful sleep.
The child's voice heard through my dreams,
His voice so painful as he screams.
Why an innocent child has to suffer,
no child deserves this life so hard and so much rougher.
But the father's disgrace chose the child's path,
Taking the child into a blood bath,
the child cries as the burning goes on,
Forever from dusk to dawn.
poem by Krystle Kyriakou
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Candle of Love
He was the fire...the fire to my burning candle
When I first recieved him he lit up my life
His flame burned vibrantly, it burned with care, and
it burned forever
Now that fire that once burned for me won't even
spark for me
Maybe its old, maybe I'm not lighting it right..or
maybe his flame is tired of my candle
poem by Octavia Tisdale
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1974
We were young,
And none of us know quite what to say,
But the feeling moved
Among us in silence anyway.
Slowly we had made
Quite a change--
Somewhere we had crossed a big line.
Down upon our knees,
We had tasted holy wine,
And no one could sway us
In a life time.
Purer than the sky,
Behind the rain.
Falling down all around us,
Calling out from a boundless love.
Love had lit a fire;
We were the flame.
Burning into the darkness,
Shining out from inside us.
Not a word.
And no one had to say we were changed.
Nothing else we lived through
Would ever be same the same,
Knowing the truth
That we had gained.
Purer than the sky,
Behind the rain.
Falling down all around us,
Calling out from a boundless love.
Love had lit a fire;
We were the flame.
Burning into the darkness,
Shining out from inside us.
Stay with me.
Make it ever new,
So time will not undo,
As the years go by,
How I need to see
Thats still me.
Falling down all around us,
Calling out from a boundless love.
Yeah....
Burning into the darkness,
Shining out from inside us.
Purer than the sky,
Behind the rain.
Falling down all around us,
Calling out from a boundless love.
Love has lit a fire;
I am the flame.
Burning into the darkness,
Shining out from inside us.
Purer than the sky,
Behind the rain.
Falling down all around us,
Calling out from a boundless love. (ohh....)
Love has lit a fire;
I am the flame.
Burning into the darkness,
Shining out from inside us.
Purer than the sky,
Behind the rain.
Falling down all around us,
Calling out from a boundless love.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tempest
You walked into
the dark corridors of my life
like lightening.
For once,
Lighting up
The whole alley.
Exposing
the naked “me”
I had so painstakingly,
So carefully
All along
hidden
in the layers of time.
You stormed into
The calm sea of my life
Like the tempest,
Tearing away
The vast depth
Beneath which
I had
All these days
Buried
My deepest desires.
You entered into
The cold valley of my life
Like the thunder,
Reminding me
The songs of life
For which I had
Forever,
forever
Closed my ears.
poem by Anjali Kakati
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Sensuality
FEELING hunger and cold, feeling
Food, feeling fire, feeling
Pity and pain, tasting
Time in a kiss, tasting
Anger and tears, touching
Eyelids with lips, touching
Plague, touching flesh, knowing
Blood in the mouth, knowing
Laughter like flame, holding
Pickaxe and pen, holding
Death in the hand, hearing
Boilers and bells, hearing
Birds, hearing hail, smelling
Cedar and sweat, smelling
Petrol and sea, feeling
Hunger and cold, feeling
Food, feeling fire. . . .
Feeling.
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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I Have A Baptism
God’s truth will out and must be preached
Till earth’s four corners have been reached
“My Ghost and Flame shall be outpoured –Joel.2: 28
Receive my child”, thus says The Lord
The bible’s here for man to read
God welcomes all to on Christ to feed –Jn.6: 51
Throughout the flock He spreads The Flame –Lk.12: 50
To guide to heal purge of shame
God’s word is meat to babies tough
Water baptism’s not enough
If endless life is man’s desire
He must receive God’s Ghost & Fire –Jn.3: 6
The Fire of Christ refines till pure
Consumes our ills none else can cure –Heb.12: 29
Burning the chaff midst Jesus’ wheat –Mt.3: 12
Bringing the foe beneath our feet
By grace God’s Holy Ghost is here
Spirit & Flame have none to fear
When safe and sound in Jesus’ hand
The truth we truly understand
God’s Fire burns deep cleansing the heart
Consuming dross from every part
Salvation comes the truth to give
When through The Flame again we’ll live –Gen.3: 24
God’s Fire brings death upon its knees
Who holds the truth receives the keys
Eternal life body and soul
For those in Christ The Flame’s made whole
We need The Fire to win life’s race
But pure of heart will see God’s face
One thing in Christ we need the most
Fire baptism with His Holy Ghost…
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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A Belief in Writing Poetry
For me a poem should be easy
Like a river flowing seamless
Without need to stop and think
Like a river reflects the world
A poem should reflect also
In each passing pace of rhythm
Every bend and curve of a river
Could be the twist and turn
Settled into every verse
Which flows with gentle ease
Beautiful and refreshing
Passing by so slowly
There amongst nature I find
An honest belief in poetry
The simplicity of it all
How easy a poem should be
Not to be understood
But to be felt and known
Not to become explained
But to be seen and realised
My belief in writing poetry
Is a river flowing and reflecting
A simple beautiful honesty
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Fire and Light
Fire and light, fire and light
we were fire and light
before the world began
we shown like stars
now enclosed in flesh
like fireflies in jars
we forget we emit light
and a flame that consumes
Like the earth inside the core
or the lamps inside a room
we are like our Maker
fire and light, fire light,
a love that consumes the cold and night.
poem by J. E. Carpenter
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