First Graders
Experiences come and experiences go.
My gray matter seldom takes one in tow.
Then a momentously fateful, fortuitous find
Crossed my way, forever branding my mind.
My mission was daunting. There seemed no solution.
Read a poem without causing a first grade revolution!
Recite words, enlivened by colorful illustrations,
Hoping to capture a few concentrations.
We sat on the floor. Then the tale commenced.
With story unfolding, I was surprised as I sensed
That these first graders quickly captured the theme,
Even providing ideas to improve on the dream.
Questioning pictures or words they didn’t know;
Guessing future actions and how the story would go.
Their ideas and comments so beyond their years
Promise a future of gladness, not sadness and tears.
These little ones listened, straining to see
How image and verse forged fun fantasy.
Fantasy turned real as these innocents displayed
A lesson of insight far ahead of first grade.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
1. One
I am trying to find my poetic rhythm.
Pen my flow of thoughts.
Words running through my mind,
Ideas running through my mind.
Incoherent, Scattered and disjointed
I am trying to make words and ideas one
Create a world of words, in this world of chaos
Words running from one end
Ideas running from one end
On a path of collision
Ideas and words unite, one
One, the beginning
One, the universal beginning
One, the number of the gods
One, my first poem
poem by Anand Dixit
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forgiveness: The Greatest Lesson Ever Learned
Forgiveness,
The greatest lesson ever learned,
From the greatest story ever told.
But is it a story or a promise?
If you do this, you will get this.
That is a promise.
He did this and this is what he experienced.
That is a story.
Simply an outcome.
Their outcome.
What if this were your story?
Could it be the same outcome?
If you do not try, you will never find out.
A muscle being worked out,
Experiences pain, then growth.
The heart is a muscle.
Growth comes from pain.
Am I angry that I am hurt?
Or should I accept?
Others have hurt me,
As I, have hurt others.
From them, I hope for forgiveness,
As a result of the pain I have caused from the mistake,
I have learned.
In the end, they were my blessing.
Another hurts me from their mistake,
They too have learned,
Yet they are my curse?
We are all each others lessons.
Each other's opportunity for growth.
What we embrace, is what we experience.
If we forgive, we are forgiven.
Then we receive the promise.
If the promise is true love,
Then isn't worth the lesson?
If you do not learn the lesson,
You won't get the story.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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El Captain
By the harbour I harbor
The strangest memories
Older than I could ever be
Stranded in nostalgia
So tonight i'll try harder
But it's hard to fix this spotlight on me
In a cast that's taking places
I'm not sure of where I want to be
Stand up, stand up and stand out
I'll Climb El Captain
And jump up to cheers from the crowd
Stand up, stand up and stand out
And I hope you take your camera
To photograph my tears as they hit the ground
No one even listens
The same way that no one ever laughs
I'm taking the car out of the snow
I'm wondering where the summer went to
Circled by your secrets
I'm hoping that they don't include me
At least I'm in good company
Because there's no one else around except me
Stand up, stand up and stand out
I'll Climb el captain
Just to watch the world slow itself
Stand up, stand up and stand out
And I hope you took your camera
The silence makes the loudest sound
It seems far too easy to say the same things
I'll choose my own way to use my life up
And finally I found a new way to say the same things in imaginary ways
I use my life up
You were looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
In your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
Looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
Through your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
Looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
In your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
Looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
In your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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El Capitan
By the harbour I harbor
The strangest memories
Older than I could ever be
Stranded in nostalgia
So tonight i'll try harder
But it's hard to fix this spotlight on me
In a cast that's taking places
I'm not sure of where I want to be
Stand up, stand up and stand out
Applaud El Captain
And jump up to cheers from the crowd
Stand up, stand up and stand out
And I hope you take your camera
To photograph my tears as they hit the ground
No one even listens
The same way that no one ever laughs
I'm taking the car out of the snow
I'm wondering where the summer went to
Circled by your secrets
I'm hoping that they don't include me
At least I'm in good company
Because there's no one else around except me
Stand up, stand up and stand out
Applaud el captain
Just to watch the world slow itself
Stand up, stand up and stand out
And I hope you took your camera
The silence makes the loudest sound
It seems far too easy to say the same things
I'll choose my own way to use my life up
And finally I found a new way to say the same things in imaginary ways
I use my life up
You were looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
In your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
Looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
Through your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
Looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
In your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
Looking at pictures in the distance
Hoping to see the future
In your pictures of the distance
Hoping to see the future
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Story
First - rage story
I talked to her yesterday
As a belated mission, to satisfy yr compassion
If it wasn't a before-death wishes, i would not perform
I was busy trying to avoid her sudden-reaction to flee away
I don't want you to look down and felt lost
I was spent, much more than my upper capability as a human with emotion
Keep reasoning myself to believe it is for the best- somehow i owe you a shot
Now that it's done - i conclude my lost as yr privilege
I would not expect you to shade tears more than you had for her
You had risk yr being for all of us, no-angel would keen to share yr burden
The gathering people around you - not a cheer-crowd they were there to judge you
But not a single words of anger and despair, nor wrath could delude you
How would you response to her stern face, blaming for yr limitation as a human?
Glad you're not here to attend the moment... this just too much
Second story - old story
She could keep her demon-wishes and live happy in her fake hell called a home
I don't even mind to ask her how she grows that horn or earned that red tail
I really don't bother to trace what went wrong or which cell betray her vein
How on earth she could easily shed the bond of blood?
She was there -as we all do- sharing the motion and wrapped in emotion better than 3D trailer
Did she really feel you? Everybody would ask, for her bold insanity refusion
The part of little child crying endlessly and clinging eagerly to the one who know no mercy
A complex memory that leads to future disorder - which part did she miss?
Senseless as air... so she through the fake-shallow-desire called passion of adultery
If it grey she has, i would have pitch black grade.. But it's not the fall to renown bitch
I stand calm and hold everyone breath..
A human kind is not a rival of animal... Let his corrupted soul unharm
Reveal bit by bit of such fantasy- why should an angel buy a cheap filthy old story?
Then.. Once again, i remember you.. your pain, your love., your devotion, the 'you' in me...
step on my vanity i bow to win., it's more to cheer of woes than the standing ovation thing
I somehow glad you missed this time...
It's just a footnote of what i'd said to you back then
No matter how much you take the course for us, we still have our own lesson
So she fail... But we there to Shower yr old glittering sparkle and once again defeat fate
I would like to share anything with you... But not this two story
poem by Niken Kusuma Wardani
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400th Mark
Completion of 400th poem was not great feat or mark
Many new ideas flashed in mind and worked as spark
Raising voice at roof top doesn’t make it worth while
No one will share ideas or walk with you for a mile
Over year and half ago I was virtually nothing
Only vague ideas of verses to translate as something
There was hidden fear that readers may reject
Still presentation of new ideas was only object
Nature was appealing when I went round
Something new was in offing and always found
Bird’s sweet voice and cool breeze were appealing
Mind was set up on it with earnest effort for revealing
It was so difficult to go in for poetic words
Sought the strength and blessings from the lord
World at large seemed so big and enterprising
Nothing could stop me from little writing
“Go to hell” or “never dare to call again”
Funny comments with abusive words main
I detested the weapon with its sharp edge
My be I lacked enough skill or knowledge
Many offered me with their kind comments
Advised to stand fast and not to lament
How can I be ungrateful to their advices?
I had to offer gratitude and only promises
Some one commented I was killing poems
Had no teeth, wisdom and lacked rhythms
I sincerely thanked them to improve upon
To write simple poems and simply carry on
New people, thoughts with old or new readers
They were by no means less than leaders
I was novice and had to act as learners
To gain and part with is the reality for beginners
I have followed simple theme and plot
It may not be up to mark or falling short
I may try to uphold values and ideas defend
Will not stoop so below to alienate or offend
How poetry does impresses up on mind?
What type of lessons or new things we find?
Poetry, I thought is the holiest approach among all
I enjoy its fruit when sit back and recall
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I started off like everyone else does, slogging but having a compulsion to put words on paper. I didn't write or read horror or fantasy, other than children's fantasy, until I was in my teens.
quote by Laurell K. Hamilton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Image
Written by: richard marx & fee waybill
Hope you dont believe a word
Of all the things I know youve heard about me
Really just a pack of ies
You see the truth before your eyes around me
Hard to keep it straight
The real from the ruse
Probably way too late
What can I do, but its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Would it be too much to ask
That you could just gvie me the chance to prove it
Or would it only be a waste of time
To try to make you change your mind and use it
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Story Of Opinions
A story so strange and disturbing that it writes itself
Surely these actions are not good for ones mental health
As dark as the day yet twisted in the hands of a pen
A story that has not yet fallen to the mind of men
A title that holds so much more honour than the object
The words that mark the page are nothing but a prospect
Of a decision or miscalculation that causes such deep regret
That neither king nor tyrant shall ever try to forget
Engraved on the face of the earth, buried in the heart
Burnt in the mind and sleeping in the soul, there is the start
Of a tale from so many different angles and opinions
Mourned by the victim or retold by the loyal minion
The ink that taints the page slowly swallows the truth
‘Unbiased' yet moulded to teach today's youth
The story clear as water yet disturbed by the waves
Propaganda gives the public the words they crave
So maybe it is true that one should read between the lines
Lessons have taught that words are twisted with the times
Whether for added affect, sympathy or to remain a mystery
That is the truth of my story, their story, her story, History.
poem by Rebecca Pepper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Having A Good Time
(bliss / kipner)
You read the stars
Everyday in the paper
And believe every word they say
You want to know
If Ill always love you
But I cant see tomorrow today
So, I cant guarantee
A happy ending
The story is always unwinding
But right here and now
It doesnt matter
Are you having a good time
You know that Im no fortune teller
I cant predict
How it will be
You need a love that lasts forever
That far ahead
I just cant see
So, I cant guarantee
A happy ending
I dont know what mightve happen
But this me and you in this situation
Are you having a good time
If everythings perfect
What more could we ask for
Were here and now
Are you having a good time
Youre somewhere off
Into the future
Imagining how it will look
Will we last another chapter
Can we make it last til the end of the book
So, I cant guarantee
A happy ending
The story is always unwinding
But right here and now
It doesnt matter
Having a good time
Verse 4
Verse 2
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beyond My Fatal Shore
I walked the last and hardest mile
full me of good intent
my mind was full of great ideas
and of glorious times spent.
I'd travelled that broad swathe of land
that the ottomans called home
and i never ever turned my eyes
to the glory that was rome.
i'd spent some time in ephesus
before i made my way
towards the delphic oracle
and the words that she would say
she cursed the earth she stood upon
and with hands her hair did tear
she looked at me all strangely
as if i wasn't there
for greece and rome were built upon
a fantasy complete
and as ever shall i wander
her words - like death's own sheet
are wound and tightened round my soul.
i hear her words i've heard them loud
a thousand times or more
each time i take that fateful step
beyond that fatal shore.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I’m Your Fantasy
I’M YOUR FANTASY
I’m your fantasy don’t you see,
even at night you dream about me.
You are spellbound by my mystic,
I’m like a rare diamond at its peak.
Sparkling and shimmering is my magic spell,
I had control over you and how you fell.
Fell for me and my made up fantasy life,
you don’t really know me after all this time.
My life story unravels before your eyes,
your like a red cherry caught in the vines,
you are drunk on me and don’t know your own mind.
Look at my photos, read all of my poems,
you try to figure me out even though it’s plain as the driven snow,
you don’t know what’s in front of your nose.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 22,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A stranger to most, An open book for some
[He prides himself in honesty
Doing everything he tries perfectly
All except for modesty]
Dreams and ideas fly easily in the globe of his mind
As he is quickly entranced in some knowledge only he could find
He is the only person I know cursed with understanding
Also the only one I know who is rarely ever demanding
The only person who follows gods laws without realizing it
The only person who knows when to admit
His preaching’s of war are countered by his wish to exterminate the vile
His bouts of sarcasm are run over by his urge to smile
His blatant quick judgment is overshadowed by his quick thinking
His thoughts are never ending and never sinking
It sometimes seems like he knows it all
Like no whisper could ever escape his ever heightened senses
Like no one could truly walk the halls of his mind
Like his thinking has no barriers or fences
Sometimes he forgets I can’t keep up
As his mind swiftly races from green to the age of exploration
From the economy of East Timor to Lebanon’s situation
Always steeling a glance in my direction as I look on in admiration
As he mouths the words to “From Yesterday”
His features rearrange in perfect concentration
And I didn’t understand it until today
That the words are his perfect re-creation
As he goes on of how the school is a perfect place for a sniper
His eyes shine as if he can assure the future with a simple guarantee
Seeing everything he describes like a movie in my mind
So he won’t stop talking I make sure and disagree
He is confused more than half of the time
But not in the disastrous way you think
For in his mind ideas become sublime
And all unimportant matters shrink
He hates so many things that are
And loves so many things that could never be
His many ideas seem impossible
Though we rarely truly disagree
Sadly a poem must end, or else this could get long
Though I will tell you that since I met him, my life has completely twirled
Just as the words from that song
“On his face is a map of the world”
poem by Yaritza Florencio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Revolution
More calm than a heartbeat that flat lines
Quiet like a dark street under the moonlight
A phrase of action that's been screamed from the guts of men
Ever since they're first experienced
Injustice, prejudice, discrimination
A word louder than a gunshot
And softer than a baby's laugh, it will pass
Just like it always has. Until it spits off the lips of
The next man who's had it up to here.
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
solution
not the first or the last to imagine it
Acknowledge the concepts, question and grasp it
Rebel against the I, and bring down the self.
Mutiny me! overthrow you
Rebellion starts within, the time is now
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
Your Revolution
Purple skies, Devil eyes, Hypnotize
Little lies, Compromise, Fireflies
Samurias, Parasite, Fly by night, After light, Materialize,
Look alive, Stereotype, Do with die, lullaby, black and white
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head? your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution, your revolution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or at least it's been said, your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution?
Your Revolution
No resolution -Your Revolution
what's your solution? -Your Revolution
And no substitution -Your Revolution
And no resolution -Your Revolution
not your solution
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writer's Block!
Yes, these two words came into mind...
Wordpad opened again,
New Rich True Format Document,
Followed by Arial ten...
No text displayed as I perused,
The cursor blinking still...
In readiness for brand new words
My thoughts were yet to spill...
I typed the title, first thing done,
Two line gaps then the verse...
With not a word to lead the way,
It couldn't get much worse...
But then I thought, I'll add my name
And copyright as well,
Then type the date, as if to claim
There's nothing left to tell...
The poem stands, no words at all,
To summarise the theme,
As if the empty heart and mind
Had nothing there to dream...
But then I thought, that's such a waste!
I'll let the reader know,
That even nothing has its place
Before the words can flow...
And so, from nothing came these rhymes,
These thoughts upon a page,
Or PC screen each time I type
To reach another stage...
Who knows? The poem I write next
Could be a great success,
That may grant tremendous insight,
Some cherished happiness...
So Writer's Block, I've beaten you!
I've conquered every doubt!
God gave me something that's brand new
And now I've typed it out!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thing About Dreams
Wonderful thing about dreams
kept in the closet until it seems
the time is right to dream again
I still cannot dance, so the dream
about Death dancing a tango with
me as Renate Flitworth, is ever new
Any dream can be rekindled by the
merest nuance triggered by a soft
whisper designed to create a fairy-
tale romance – whenever my Mary
Poppins dream of being allowed to
help people in need by means of
magical, earth-shattering love, is
awakened, I am off, inflated like a
balloon, full of romance, floating on
currents of fantasy, I float on the words
of those who describe fairytale ideas –
knowing my delight will take me to
More such beautiful sounds – tonight
I shall dance again held in Death’s arms
wearing the dress he brought for me, the
diamond he stole round my neck, Death
as anthropomorphic idea is a guarantee
my fantasy is safe and I may dream
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Painted Canvass: Perspective Master Strokes
Luxury. Time and a whole new poem to cite.
Exquisite. An exceptional poem a classic write.
A great poem from a favourite master poet.
And mine all mine to read now in the night.
With deep appreciation, I read these words in hues of light.
Others may fear fail to tread, this path that shines so bright.
First we avid read, then deconstruct, then reconstruct,
the words are whole again, with new fair crafted insight.
If we do not venture, into the words?
How will we know, there meanings?
The poem was whole, written in theme concepts.
Word play gifted images, savour ponder contrasts.
Mine eye perceives perspective, shaped in logic art.
The images drawn forever grace, astound my heart.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Secret of Time and its Passage
Memory defeats passage of time
Hurts and pains enliven passed times and events
In the form of aches, and rarely are enlivened pleasant experiences had;
Anxiety, fear, apprehension constitute the future;
Past and future are thought forms
In the present continuous,
Arising out of earlier experiences,
And doubts and imaginations about the imminent,
Are mere mental projections
In the present;
The present continuously changes
Every one tenth of a second
As a pulse series of awareness
Replacing past dissolving into future;
Events took place and the ones we imagine may happen
Respectively create memory,
And doubts, fears and expectations;
Thus the egoistic mind drawing us into the past or future
And seldom allowing us to live in the present
And enjoy current bliss, peace and silence
Creating whirlpool of time and its passage
Never lets us transcend the notion of time
And its passage;
But the reality is,
Present continuous being
One-tenth of a second,
The past over and the future yet to dawn;
Realization of this secret of
Passage of time, past, present and future
As mere thought forms in the present,
Sets in us peace, bliss and quietude
And we face life cheerfully
Transcending mental suggestions
And enjoy the present in calmness,
Peace, bliss, silence, in unoccupied awareness
As contented and content-free state of mind
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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