What I Know About My Dad Is Only A Few Things

What I know about my dad is only a few things,
eyes that radiates in seriousness,
he was sometimes strict but it was measured by love,
he was a god fearing man, but an Afrikaner
into the depths of his soul
and a teacher of history and Afrikaans

I remember his voice
reading the poems that he prepared
for post graduate studies in literature,
which made me get gooseflesh
from enjoyment

and so 'early autumn, '
'the headless horseman'
'Maria' and 'I will go to my father'
and many other poems
became to lie deep in my heart.

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Oh The Poems

OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS

Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –

What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?

I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-

Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-

Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-

Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?

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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.

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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


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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

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Do not read my poems…. [for YOU ]

Do not read my poems…
After I am dead
As a lament, a wail
An elegy, a requiem
Do not read my poems…
After I am gone
When no more I can
Hear your velvet voice.
Do not read my poems…
Alone without me
To comment along
And read with you
But, do read my poems
When I beside you lie
With my head resting
On your supporting arm
Listening to you read
In whisper, in kisses
In silence, in love
In sleep, in dream
Watching you feel
Every word I wrote
I’ll close my eyes - Love
Brush aside my hair
With your breathe
Which half veils my face
Sleepless fevered I wrote
Read me my poems
Now sing me a lullaby
Rock me to sleep
On your broad chest
Diving into your eyes
A thousand times
I am refreshed
By your smile
I’ll write on you a poem
Traced by my fingertips
To be etched in your heart
And burnt into your soul!
So, do not read my poems…

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The poems I love

There are poems that I envy,
poems that I admire and respect,
poems that simply sing to me,
poems that I puzzle over…

but the poems I most love -
they may be jewelled and adorned
with adjectives and adverbs,
similes and metaphors, (but
they must be enlightening, relevant,
making mind and heart to expand
in sheer exhilaration)

or they may be so quietly, humbly carpentered
that they say, I’m simply here to serve you…

but they all say to me with
shining eyes, as if
the world made new in that moment,

‘Yes, I was there!
Join me there! ’

and their ‘there’ is here and now
and as great as the universe
and the heart that yearns.

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There Are The Poems That Are Not The Real Poems

There are the poems that are not the real poems,
And the poems that are-
And the poems that are seem to come out of their own saying
With a rhythm and a meaning which makes a music so deep,
Even the most lonely soul feels them as a singing inside.

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I Hid Inside My Poems

I HID INSIDE MY POEMS

I hid inside my poems
And made a shelter there
Fearing my Integrity
Would not endure your stare.


The Poems did not appear
They died along with me
Hiding does not always save
Nor Cowardice set free.

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Poems Are My Life Now

POEMS ARE MY LIFE NOW

Poems are my life now-
I write them as if they are all
I will ever write-
I live in them
I take hope in them-

Small
And yet not delicate
My heart and soul in them
The Poems I write now
Are all I will ever be
In Literature –

Maybe they too are nothing
But they are what I have and am now.

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Is It Beautiful to Say I love You

Is it beautiful to say I love you
Even though I haven’t seen you for ten years?
But you once kissed my neck and you are not my aunt.
I still feel you there, and you are behind my eyes.
I look upon you though I haven’t seen you for
All this time.

You said two years ago that I don’t
Really know you, but that was on the telephone.
How come? I want to know
You, and in the language my hands create, I pretend
To know you. I know you! Or I am just foolish
And have never loved.

Stand in front of me and tell me you
Do not love me, and then I will leave you alone,
Though you might follow me if you wish,
With the trail my heart bleeds.

My favorite high school teacher says these
Poems are good, even though they are all about you.
He says get over you, but he also didn’t know
That I could graduate—I say, I don’t need to
Get over you. You are all that I have.
In fact, I need you.... not so much the poems....

And is that all there is when I touch myself
Involuntarily in the night, because I need you there?
Or will you finally come to me, and allow us to
Create for real all that I have hoped
And written.

poem by Bret R. CrabrookeReport problemRelated quotes
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My poems are stored

My poems are stored
In a funeral box
Kept beside the bed
They go unread
Similar objects are kept
Locked in my heart and head
They go unread
The habitation of my poems
Is bonded red
They go unread
All poems are offerings
To the god that can not read
For poems are only human
Made things
The bees do not care for them
Neither does the birds
Or the trees with better
Things to do then
Take note of them.

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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.

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Lost Poems

When I was a child about the age of 5,
I wrote a ton of poems late at night,
I gave them to my school teacher
who thought they were great,
but I never did see them again to this date.
My mom tells me I became despairingly mad,
then I became really sad,
which then made me cry and cry,
so to make up for lost time,
and also before I lose my mind,
I write Purple Poems that really do rhyme.
That my friend is what you will find,
when reading Purple Poems from Christina Sunrise.

Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.6,2011

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P. O. E. M. S

To me Poems are spiritual
that come from deep inside the heart
that can't be taught in school.

Poems tells the story of our lives
Poems is a way to express
our feeling to the world
Poems reduce our pains
poems is the only way to speak to the heart

To me
Poems is not a choice
It's not a Habit
I's not a way to express others
But, It's a talent
that shows the world the real you

P- Passion

O- Observed

E- Emotion

M- Meaningul

S- Spiritual

P. O. E. M. S

poem by Guenael OristelReport problemRelated quotes
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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.

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Pablo Neruda

I Remember You As You Were

I remember you as you were in the last autumn.
You were the grey beret and the still heart.
In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on.
And the leaves fell in the water of your soul.

Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul.

I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off:
Grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house
Towards which my deep longings migrated
And my kisses fell, happy as embers.

Sky from a ship. Field from the hills:
Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond!
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.
Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

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My inspirational poets

Let me think of the Vietnamese literature
let me miss the poet named Ba Huyen Thanh Quan
Who is so lovely and so warm.
As her romantic love poems are so clever and
forever for thousand years.

Let me dream of Nguyen Du
in the romantic love story of Lady called Kieu
that is so fantastic love life
and the beautiful nature 's lovely way
still lives in his poems forever.

Let my soul sinks in their marvelous poems
that are so simple and so beautiful for thousand years
AS my childhood fills all of their poems
that let me stirs the emotion never forget.
To their beautiful poems are forever and always.

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Which Poems Are True and Which Poems Only A Story?

WHICH POEMS ARE TRUE AND WHICH POEMS ONLY A STORY?

Which poems are true
and which poems only a story?

There are poems I have to write
They are the heart of who I am-
And other poems that tell a story my mind makes
And takes me where I do not know I'll ever really be-

There are real poems and there are imaginary poems-
And there are poems-in- between like this one.

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I Don't Want The Poems To End

I don’t want the poems to end
I don’t want to stop hearing my soul say
What it most deeply means-
I don’t want the poems to end
I want to go on and on with the poems
Day by day
As life at its best may go on
Just being and loving
And letting the poems come-
I don’t want the poems to end
And I don’t want to end now either.

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Like So Many Poems I Read

LIKE SO MANY POEMS I READ

Like so many poems I read
These poems I am reading now
Are not poems to me.

They are too detached
Too abstract
Too up in the air.

I want to hear the words
Make a music of feeling
In my soul.


A poem must move me
If it is to be real.

Why then do I write these words
as if a poem?

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