A Merry Carnival
Some poems are love songs
And can even be sung
Some are praises to love
All its glory and cost
Or personal enquiries
To those who are lost
I have songs that give praise
But this song laments
I have poems for loving
But this poem complains
Of Americopia, where consumers spend
Afflicted by thirst, without solace from pain
A Merry Carnival
Whose show cannot end
This Americomedy
Its laughter undressed
By those calling for peace
And working for rest
The Americarnivore
Plays at love like a beast
The Americatastrophe
In implacable haste
Addicted to plunder
Lays its heroes to waste.
Some songs are praise poems
To heroines and gods
Which celebrate mortals
With barely-heard cries
At the well of the throat
Where redemption lies
And at the firm juncture
Of a shoulder and hand
Tracing the crossroads
With delicate allure
The poems are recited
The songs raised once more.
poem by Frank Bana
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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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These Poems These Songs This Beauty This Life
THESE POEMS THESE SONGS THIS BEAUTY THIS LIFE
These poems these songs this beauty this life-
All that I hear inside me
And have heard from others
Through years of listening-
All that I take with me inside
As if it were forever mine
The songs I have learned and love
The poems I recite in my soul
Without even trying to-
All this like the dust
Like the air
Will vanish when I go
And the song of my soul
Will be
As blank as the silence
Of a page never written on.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Happy Endings
some poems are sad but we may help
them to be happy again
to let the poems wear a smile
and let these poems like
fairies dance in the
prairies let them sing the songs
of love and
passion and thanksgiving and
praise and be
so venerable before the throne
of the divine
i read this poem this morning
that has made my day
a very inspiring one indeed
and it was not that long and winding
and direct to the point
it simply said: i love you too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Songs of Praise the Angels Sang
Songs of praise the angels sang,
Heav’n with alleluias rang,
When creation was begun,
When God spoke and it was done.
Songs of praise awoke the morn
When the Prince of Peace was born;
Songs of praise arose when He
Captive led Captivity.
Heav’n and earth must pass away!
Songs of praise shall crown that day!
God will make new heav’ns and earth;
Songs of praise shall hail their birth.
And can man alone be dumb,
Till that glorious kingdom come?
No: the church delights to raise
Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise.
Saints below, with heart and voice,
Still in songs of praise rejoice,
Learning here, by faith and love,
Songs of praise to sing above.
Borne upon their latest breath,
Songs of praise shall conquer death;
Then amidst eternal joy,
Songs of praise their powers employ.
Hymns of glory, songs of praise,
Father, unto Thee we raise;
Jesus, glory unto Thee,
With the Spirit, ever be.
poem by James Montgomery
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How Many Songs Have I Heard Today
HOW MANY SONGS HAVE I HEARD TODAY
How many songs have I heard today
While searching for a poem?
In a way the songs are greater
They lift me more easily in feeling -
But the poems however more difficult and mind-meant
Are my soul-
The songs belong to others
However happily I sing them-
I can make a poem of my own
And its thought will go beyond
What a song can do-
I am not singing this
I am writing it-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Ships Of The Night
Poems pass
in the night also.
Port starboard lights
burn bright also.
Poems pass stirred
hear wave slap night gongs?
Have you not heard
their salty soft saline songs?
Poems pass plotted
in navigated narrows; of lapping passage night.
Have you not heard
their soft spoken saline songs; by glow of candle light?
Poems pass navigated
in natant night also.
Daily cares contested
at last laid low below.
Poems pass
in shadow seamed night.
Poems pass
in nuptial nocturnal night flight.
Has not herald heard
silver shimmering saline songs?
Poems pass like flight of bird
as eternal endless night sails on.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly
NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.
Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Are No Poems In The Land Of The Dead
THERE ARE NO POEMS IN THE LAND OF THE DEAD
There are no poems in the land of the dead
No songs-
The dead do not sing and do not write poems-
Relatives friends perhaps come,
Perhaps pray perhaps say their poems
But the dead do not hear-
They cannot really hear any more-
There are no poems in the land of the dead,
And no songs either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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We Need Poems To Make Us Love Life More
WE NEED POEMS TO MAKE US LOVE LIFE MORE
We need poems to make us love life more
Poems that will make us happier
Poems that will make us kinder, better people.
We need poems that will inspire us
That will add to our sense of the world’s Beauty
We need Poems that will make us love others as we love ourselves as we love God.
We need holy poems
And joyful poems
And blessed poems
And kind poems
We need poems which will make us love life more
Which will help us love others and ourselves more
God more
We need poems.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The History Poems Have Not Been Written
The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Divine
Poems after poems
Painted love as divine
Songs after songs
Hug and wet kiss
Are treated as eternal bliss
Paintings after paintings
Soft touch and sex
Are depicted as ambrosial
Heavenly things are in this world
Worldly things are in the heaven
Then, no difference
Between this world and the world after?
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Postmortem
Most of the poems in praise of mothers
Have been written after the loss of mothers.
Most of poems in glory of love
Have been penned after the love failures.
Such poems have well been appreciated
By those who belong to these categories.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On Hearing One Reciting Verses Of Callanan
He recited Gougane Barra and the outlaw of Lough Lene
And my thoughts went back the long gone years to my school going days again
When our teacher recited those verses to us from the pen of a Cork born bardic man
The one whose bones rest in distant Portugal Jeremiah Joseph Callanan.
The poems of J J Callanan will live forever more
And are recited far distant from green old Erin's shore
A true poet of the people though he died poor and young
And he was one of genius and his songs are still sung.
The poet and hedge school teacher his poems known far and wide
And greatness is a thing of him that can never be denied
He recited his verses in village and in town
And even in his too brief life Callanan knew renown.
He recited Gougane Barra and it took me far away
To the school house room in Millstreet happy memories with us stay
When our teacher recited the poems of Callanan 'he was showing his years in gray'
Back in the nineteen fifties and that's going back many a day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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An Afternoon Poem Is Rare
AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE
An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-
Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-
Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.
There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poems About Poems About Poems
Poems about poems about poems-
More poems and more poems and more poems-
Poems poems poems poems poems-
How many poems?
How much poetry
Until there is no poetry at all?
But only 'words' and 'words' and 'words'
Until one goes far away
Where there was never a poem before-
And suddenly hears
“Let there be Light”.
And Poetry perhaps
Is born again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dream Miracles God Speaks To Soul Mine
I gave God two more poems today
two perfectly harmonic resonating poems
two poems dream mind writ
two poems never to write out
two poems never to public post
the first fruits the best
I vowed to give God
in awaiting dreams I gift
poems to God is gifted best poems
God smiles I watch heaven’s eyes
across cosmos God’s love is given
across created God space prayer given
love gifted given God’s love shines
dream miracles God speaks to soul mine
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A legend and Diva, Whitney Houston
A legend and Diva, Whitney Houston
(Ode to Singer Whitney Houston)
Dedicating this poem
To you, Whitney
We all love your songs.
You're really a diva
Let your songs remain
In our mind and remain
Evergreen through time.
On February eleven,
Twenty twelve
You left us too early,
We never tire enough
Of all your songs.
You inspire us
With your lovely songs
And your beautiful voice.
Your songs
enrich our life,
motivate us,
make us happy.
We'll remember you
In all your songs
Let the world listens your songs
Always and forever.
Goodbye, Whitney,
A legend and diva,
May your soul be blessed by God
May you rest in Peace and in Joy,
May your songs be heard here and
In heaven.
Leaving a legacy behind
For all to hear and enjoy
Farewell to you, Whitney Houston,
We miss you,
Love you and
All your songs.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Involvements Denied
Songs for devotion, songs for occasion,
Songs for merriment, songs for funerals
And songs for love and war are made and sung
To take you away from involvements there.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Promises of Golden Fire (for Leonard, again)
You wrote your book of longing
Took down the songs of mercy
Every style of tenderness
Was in your verse exalted
Go you now to write
The last song of redemption
Before it is too late
To sing its vast refrain
You old bastard, Leonard
You faithlessly transcribed
The sacred rhymes and litanies
Of holy damaged lives
Leaving us to seduce the ones
Whom you long abandoned
At second hand, with only
Your creations at our side
The poems with the raven eyes
And songs that stare from telegraph wires
Lured me into darkness
With promises of golden fire
I'm sorry to hear you lost your mother
And I know you miss your father
To be alone is always very hard
Will you leave us orphaned now
Drowning in laments
And pieties of priests and prison guards
You were right about one thing
They always lock up the wrong men
And we are still at war
With the religious and the carnivore
Chauvinists and feminists
And all who wish to strangle love
Of its final poetry and breath
You were right, I'll give you that
I bring you this, an offering
A poem you never sought
And will never swear a moment by
From a man so cheaply bought
And still enslaved as I.
poem by Frank Bana
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