A Reading
The old poet
with his face full of lines,
with iambs jumping in his hair like fleas,
with all the revisions of his body
unsaying him,
walks to the podium.
He is about to tell us
how he came to this.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Poet Became His Own Poetry
A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY
A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.
A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am A Poet Of Short Lines
I am a poet of short lines-
Of lines that are phrases,
Of lines that are small and broken-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of impatience and small breath,
Of hurrying and not taking time-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of condensation and conciseness,
Of maximum meaning in minimum space-
I am a poet of short lines
Short ones.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jumping Someone Else's Train
Don't say what you mean
You might spoil your face
If you walk in the crowd
You won't leave any trace
It's always the same
You're jumping someone else's train
It won't take you long
To learn the new smile
You'll have to adapt
Or you'll be out of style
It's always the same
You're jumping someone else's train
If you pick up on it quick
You can say you were there
Again and again and again
You're jumping someone else's train
It's the latest wave
That you've been craving for
The old ideal
Was getting such a bore
Now you're back in line
Going not quite quite as far
But in half the time
Everyone's happy
They're finally all the same
'cause everyone's jumping
Everyone else's train
Jumping someone else's train
Jumping someone else's train
Jumping someone else's train
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tear Tram Lines
This town has lost its sparkle,
The stars have lost their shine,
This town’s too full of echoes,
And my face too full of lines.
The shore has lost its tide,
The waves have lost their rhyme,
This town’s too full of tears,
And my smile too full of lines.
The clock has stopped it’s ticking
My feet dance out of time,
This town’s too full of yesterdays,
And my frown too full of lines
The cinema’s showing it’s last reel,
The pubs have all called time,
This towns too full of actors
And my script too full of unread lines….
Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite them, and little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum.
To A Love Poem You Twitch Your Face
This time,
As a critique of a love poem you
Read my lines and twitch your face
You cannot believe
What I write
that I for once was true
That I can now be true to you
For once I make this plea
Dust off the fleas
Of sin and prejudice
It is me, I once loved you,
And you knew
It was true but you never believed it,
it is me now, ready to love you again
My love,
Love changes everything
And that does not exclude me,
Do stamp your feet now
Crush all those fleas
And do not twitch your face,
hear me, strike me, i deserve
the punishment
having left you
long time ago
This is me
Ready to love you again, this is my plea.
please listen, spare, speak to me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet As A Pornographer
without the contours of the body
where shall the poet be?
without the feel of the palms
skimming through breasts and thighs
where can his poems be?
he cannot live on those clouds alone
he has no words that must dwell in air
his rhyme and rhythm are on their prime
on the hips and legs
that which lies between and not beyond
creates the meaning of his lines
the hair and nose and tender loins
the lips and tongue and cheeks
the poet takes some flowers and smell them
but with her something crawls in his head forever
do not judge him for he is happy and
he does not really care about what you say
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Without A Poem/ Empty and Desperate
A POET WITHOUT A POEM
A poet without a poem
Empty and desperate
Forces a few lines
As way of reviving himself.
The lines lead to other lines
A poem begins to come.
The poet hears his hope as he writes
And then when there is a poem
He just rests happily
Knowing he is alive again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Innocent Face Vavroovahana Patra
The innocent face allures the poet in the morn;
The Beauty magnifies the beauty of the dawn.
Mind derives peace;
Poet lives with Divine Bliss.
Poet is a lover of Beauty;
Beautiful things enchant the poet with gaiety.
Loves Silvery face delightfully;
Loves innocent hearts silently.
Vernal chilly Breeze kisses the crisp hair delightfully;
Fragrance of Beauty bathes poet's body with gaiety.
Poet is inspired to remain in a world of peace;
Praying in the lap of Nature derives Divine Bliss.
Innocent rural Beauty proceeds silently;
Poet, a lover of Beauty, beholds enthusiastically.
Innocence provides delight;
Inspiration is a Brook of Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Over the expanse of the Poet's mind
over the expanse
of the poet's mind
a full moon hangs
a ripe round orange
full with the sweetness
and joy of the universe
every now and then
a tide of inspiration
suffuses the sea of
his intellect where
the allure of the
moon is magified in
dazzling lines the poet
lavishes his verses
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I Feel Your Touch
I shall not cut short my hair
Still I feel touch of your finger
in my hair
I do feel how your finger crawl
inside my dark hair.
How can I meet you again
You are beyond my touch
You are beyond my vision
I fear if my body rots
The body once you loved.
poem by Devil Poet
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The Poet Walks Alone In The Night
THE POET WALKS ALONE IN THE NIGHT
The Poet walks alone in the night-
He is happy.
The Dark has a certain Beauty-
The Light has a certain Beauty-
The Sky has a certain Beauty-
The stars.
The Poet walks alone in the night-
Beauty.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mysterious Girl
There is a girl
With long black hair
With her big grey eyes
People can’t help but stare
Her beauty leaves a trace
Every time she walks by
She’s filled with magnificence
Such splendor you cannot deny
With her tall and fit body
She can blow fire off
As she walks past a crowd
Others can’t help but scoff
Her loveliness is admired by everyone
But her charm is envious by most women
By the way she dresses and walks
Her features are adored and gleamin’
Everything about her is stunning
She’s every girl and woman’s wanna be
Yet people did not know
That that girl with long black hair
And big grey eyes
Is me...
poem by Marria Attar
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Jumping Rope
We are jumping rope together
we are jumping rope together
unwinding naughty knots of tether
we are jumping rope together
We are jumping rope together
we are skipping beats together
pouting panting chasing chants
unraveling rigid wraps to sever
We are jumping rope together
we are jumping rope together
jointly jogging jagged breath
suddenly we
sneeze!
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Face To Face
Run your fingers through my hair and softly kiss my lips
Hold me close in your embrace and love me face to face
Face to face heart to heart body to body
Tingling tangle feelings lovers face to face
Ill caress your body and hold you close to me
Ill slide my hands around your waist and love you face to face
Face to face heart to heart body to body
Lips on lips arm and arm body to body
Tingling tangle feelings lovers face to face
Softly say you love me as you make love to me
No one else can take your place we happen face to face
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet Walks Slowly
THE POET WALKS SLOWLY
The poet walks slowly
The dream of the world surrounds him
As Light.
He stops to write
And the words open up happily,
As if the morning and the fresh breeze
Were all there need be
Of God’s Soul.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Middle Part
..and then she faces me
this time exposing every part of her
a tall. lean white body with long black hair
cascading like a waterfall
of silence
she walks towards me
as i lay my head on the pillow
as i signal her to come
and share with me
love and sorrow
and the passion of our presence
she takes a slow movement
her hands touching my hair
her lips getting near
my face
and then we close our eyes
and enter into another world
where we are one
so close
airtight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Growth of Free Verse from the Metrical Verse.
When you think and feel
in terms of iambs or trochees
and sing them in series within,
you feel the pulse of a regular
rising or falling rhythm.
The recurring feet or beats make the lines
monotonous or surfeiting;
may be dull and flat at times..
The increasing anapaests
Makes the movement fast
But dactyls keep the tempo slow.
The epics and long tales of the past
with thrilling and grilling events
recharged our minds to linger long
in tasting of those sonorous lines.
You pen the shoddy lines
of words and phrases you think,
with a natural mix of humour and rhetorics
images and word-music
in long end-stopped or short enjambed ones.
Free verse lines of syncopation
blossom out of syncronised patterns
to sing the beauties of the mundane
and supreme things.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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In some ways, that's the story of my season - when I wasn't making big mistakes, I was winning races and being on the podium. And when I made mistakes I was still fourth or fifth, just off the podium.
quote by Bode Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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