Good Poetry
Yes and to prove it as natural flow
I get the inspiration when remember the almighty and bow
I think about nothing when poetical thoughts invade
I just plough the land with spade........
I plant the seeds not with any kind of greed
But with only intention to feed
It may be called pure deed
But later on to prove as human need
There is no technique or any ground rules
It comes in mind without any schedule
Poetry is god gift and can’t be mastered
It is not donated or freely offered
You can only construct the vague thoughts
As you encounter the enemy to be suddenly fought
If you can pick and gather it in right spirit
It may easily be put on paper or sheet
Have you ever experienced an edge of sword?
You may find sharp edge in powerful words
It may not cut anybody’s throat or shed the blood
But may provide to freedom fighters as tonic or food
Poems should not remain merely as expressive term
It must find respectable and loving place in turn
It should nether be used to show as arrogance
Nor to be used as lethal weapons as chance
Poems are means and pure medium
It can be sung in holy places or for audience in stadium
The impact and influence may be far reaching
It can be used for preaching and teaching as well
How can one learn about poems if remains least concerned?
How any one can be harmed if it lacks teeth and turned?
It is holiest form of expression and demands simple use
One must be able to get or touch the nerves and induce
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
Rules or no rules
Poetry has no rules to go
It has simply to flow
As lines emerge from deep corner
You write it as fast as runner
Rules or no rules
It has to be simple tool
To catch the nerves and make impact
Poetry is as such fine art with single act
I follow nothing
Simply obey the instinct that has to do something
With human mind and touch
Poetry has its own kind to influence as such
Some may say it is boring
Some may listen to it while snoring
Cuckoo reveals it in early morning
Words strike as has rhythm with warning
Wake up! And now time to resume
A bright day with blessings has come
We are all made of simple clay
Poems must spread fragrance when find its way
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A poems are treasure
Neither poems are lost treasure
nor they are means of pleasure
they are meant to be enjoyed by others
We need not go into it and bother
they are never lost from mind
They appear in many forms and we do find
there is place and existence
it has no past but real presence
Why do the thoughts emerge?
Why do they compel and urge?
Some happy moments to bear the shape?
Though with some bitter moments of shame?
It has equal bearing and importance
They invade sudden and at once
We got to give them place and honor
They may represent reality with horror
It may not be appreciated or liked by all
It may not be able to bring down the wall
But it will definitely pierce through the mind
Where it will generate the feelings very kind
It is simple projection coming out from clear conscience
It is reflective mood of the presence
It might have witnessed many pulses of high magnitude
It may speak nicely of the individual's attitude
Can any one take notes on piece of paper and write?
Can that draw any attention when you call some one or invite?
It may be commented as good or nice
But no one may commit or assure with promise
Many may be writing with great skill and deep feeling
It may not be finding favor or end with reeling
It is not the simple tact of conveying the message
It is not usual to come with the passing of the age
The poems are reflection of the natural mood
It acts like nourishment and serves as food
It is phenomenal development of the mind
It is generally accepted for its rich kind
It is nice medium to feel and convey
It responds to pure feelings and obey
It is not just putting of the simple views
This fact is realized by only few
The poems must find and be read in real context
It must have unique thinking with powerful text
It has writer's mind with powerful couplet
It should not meet cruel fate
The poems are read with zeal
It is not fictitious but real
It may serve as tonic or meal
It can assuage your feelings or heal
It is reflective mood of the poet
He can compose all but can't keep quiet
The poems may serve as eternal ground
We may like it more with intense bond
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Poetry Is Simple
Poetry is simple gift from almighty
Be at heart kind with pity
Feel pulse of agony and pain
And also that of breeze and rain
Cuckoo may sing as usual
You may write as casual
Day may emerge and set
So poems are part of the life never to be late
Poetry doesn't come off with pen
It may write but lack depth then
It will look artificial sans charm
May look descent but without effective arms
It may have metaphors
Nice words with river and shores
Ship or boat may float over water
But situation may remain same and not alter
Poetry is poet's cry
That has come from sky
Even if sky is barren
It will shower with heavy rain
It is all in mind but needs impetus
Right thoughts with belief and trust
It may generate love and compassion
So hatred is pushed out and remains out of question
Poetry is culmination of pure thought
As if divinely flowing and honestly sought
Which turns heart into loving arena?
Where flows only flora an fauna
It has meaning behind
That an ordinary man must find
Understand when it is sung in public
Observes in mind like holy relic
There is no craze for artificial presentation
It is out of context and finds no relation
If you make people to cry over words
Then think about spirit behind and look forward
I have seen people crying
Over effective words and underlying
The importance of being so fair
In its usage and lovely fragrance in the air
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Rare Flower Blooms Only Once In a Blue Moon!
Just as Nature is an inspiration to spirit
Poetry is an inspiration to the heart ever!
Musical poems full of meaning delight all
Like the freshly blossomed flowers do to all!
Poems delight heart, inspire mind and
Elevate spirit to higher level ever in bliss!
Poems mean inspiration and delight to heart
That remain in mind ever to inspire soul ever!
Nature and poetry are reality and reflection
As Shakespeare did with his art of poems
Reflecting human life in all its totality ever
As rare flowers alive for all to enjoy ever!
Poems of such kind are flowers of rare variety
Such flowers bloom only once in a blue moon!
poem by Ramesh T A
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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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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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Poems with difference
How does the imagination strike the mind?
Does the brain allow them place to find?
Why they are termed as crazy and dreamy persons?
Does this statement find any favour with reasons?
May be poetic appetite does not allow them to grasp?
Appeal in wordings may not be enough to last
It is as if some is asked to under go test and take medicine
Feeling good inwardly but with bitter test of quinine
We may see enough water available in pot
Put to test while making it very hot
It may turn into vapor beyond certain point
Poetry is also like vapour………………..
Ideas may suddenly emerge in sequence
Mind may pick up and build it as consequence
How to project it rightly may prove as acid test
It may be looked as fine blend of poetry and best
Somebody may try it hard on words skill
Many may stuff it with metaphors and fill
Single sentence may now bear different look
Golden sentences may appear in costly book
Nature, heavenly bodies and earth simply provide
Kind of message, love and passion does not divide
Humanity survives with strengthening of the bonds
Poetic wisdom is stored like enough water in ponds
Easy words, fine presentation and theme crate impact
Love, passion, generosity improve with certain contacts
Poems can rule the hearts with immediate healing touch
Pulse can be felt as if it has enough power to offer so much
Poems can be those who can touch millions and rule
Lessen their worries and react with mind so cool
Poet Kalidasa* was novice and considered as fool
His poems are master pieces without help from any school
Rule the heart, touch the nerve and excel in field
Tremendous response and enough skill to yield
The desirable effect may be seen in poetic world
There may not be going back after developing cold
Poems must find the light of the day
Many may side line you and keep at the bay
You got to sail through and find the way
Stars and sky will be yours with more to say
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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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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Poems in her
Poems in her
It has become now a journey
Crusade against no one but a turn key
Almost with single thought in mind
Something new to search and find
You can call it divine injection
Penetrates in mind for lovely action
To transform thoughts into words
And create poems to look forward
Not all objects provide some clue
Some birds and natural objects are over due
Seasons and sadness come to my rescue
I think, rethink and make periodical review
Black color fascinates me so much
Not because of its color but quality as such
Its worth is precious and can't be counted in terms
But it provides enormous joy and returns
Such is my love for poetry
I consider it prayer to almighty
As words pour out to strengthen his prayer
I become mere tool and conveyer
At first sight I get enormous signals
The thought floods mind with its arrival
I look at face and it clearly impresses
I find its real worth to write poems
Can any one not read what goes on in her mind?
I certainly do when come across to find
She is certainly extra ordinary and truly gifted
Almost with same views and never shifted
I would love to dwell at length about character
The color may not play an important factor
Yet it leaves ever lasting impression
I write the poems with true confession
She is an every inch poem with message
If you look at her closed eyes in page
You may sum up with final note
Poems and poets certainly relate
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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How poems emerge
When passion gets settled down
Gives birth of poem and of its own
It is expression from the heart
You can term it real feeing and art
What are we discussing today?
About poor test and forceful way
What poets are writing today and chase?
Few short lines for readers to guess
First of all it has nothing to do with poems
Nothing comes in head as pure and nice themes
And even if it comes then it is very vague
All threads are to be tied and traced
It will be unnatural to think of breeze in afternoon
No ideas may creep in mind and supplement soon
When I start thinking of hot after noon
Then there may appear cool evening with bright moon
I shall observe each cool nights with changing horizon
Movement of stars and diminishing their shine for moon
I may think of giving more weightage to shining object
Thus reducing the importance of stars of their brave act
Well, poems are all about this struggle
They simply not come without trouble
They will openly clash with set themes
All earlier ideas may be lost or put into flames
I may not give up that easily for simple reason
It is natural law and so change the seasons
Why should I not change the theme from time to time?
It may click and help for the race sometimes
I have made several pages of rough preparation
They have fairly come to the help in relation
I thought poetry is not all about writing on pages
It is out come of natural thoughts coming with age
Thoughts must travel with speed of light
It must bring back all ideas in sight
Then it must flow in orderly manner at one go
In same manner as calm waters of river naturally flow
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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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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A Short Poem Written At The Moment When A Rising River Looked Like A Rolling Ocean
I was stubborn by nature and addicted to perfect lines,
fought to the death to find words that startle.
Now in old age my poems flow out freely, the way
flowers and birds forget deep sorrow in spring.
A new water pavilion has been built for fishing with a rod.
I choose to use a bamboo raft instead of a boat.
If only my thoughts were guided by poets Tao and Xie,1
we'd travel and together write poems.
New oder
What can man do to live immortal?
Even thought any accident can prove fatal
Person can be no more on the spot
This led me seriously to think a lot
What are we today on present age?
Nothing but a small fly and unable to manage
What are we struggling and what for?
I had sought an answer but did not go far
Many people like for what I am today
Some adversely remark and few find nice way
Talk freely with their problems and ask advice
I render it freely that makes them to dream high with promises
An art itself is divine gift
You can do nothing with its shift
It may vanish any time with passing of time
Or remain with you for little longer time
Poetry as such is an obsession
That can't be turned into passion
It has to origin from one's own heart
The words and narration simply comes out as an art
Some of the verses may flow like river water
Carry readers along and leave them later
It is some sort of hidden bond that remains forever
Many old poets have occupied position as such there
Today's generation passes through crucial stage
Computers have reduced the scope of pen and page
Everything is instant and available before eyes
Poems may go extinct in years that may go by
Let us hope for some new order
Young poets appear permanently here and there
We shall not remain here for them to watch
Even through thorough our poems they shall try to catch
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Makes Me Romantic
In a moment it makes me romantic
Remove all sadness and show to be fantastic
The poems are made as my heaven
The slight ideas get fine place even
How words strike mind in quick succession?
Form nice imagination with fast obsession
Romance with female friends and bright moon light
Oh, what a lovely desire to be expressed truly right
Why those dark nights don’t frighten me?
Why I touch all those stars and steal their twinkles in free?
Create their impression of sadness in fine poetical words
Feel so close to the almighty and spell it as holy from mouth of lords
Is poetry a means to cut jokes?
Cut some to size and unnecessarily poke
Does it not involve greater degree of appreciation?
I think it does and sometimes choke the throat and pronunciation
I try to control with tears and bring smile in between
But in fact it takes me to the extreme end and shows heaven
I take deep stock of it and compare what I get by composing poems
It is no less joy then what one gets from friends
I see with deep sense of human touch
Every time some incidence comes as such
I move with great care and involve
Rest ideas come in quickly and solve
It is divine blessing that you can think and form relation
An opinion about holy path, love or separation
How come you think with great pain about such sensitive things?
Unless you are gifted with invisible hands to create something
It is not poetic skill or some illogical presentation
It has even nothing to do with any kind of orientation
It is well imagined scene with mix of human feelings
That plays till end with souls together and willing
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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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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Soul and body
Oh, dear poems
I always addressed you to him
As I thought of you as medium
You were away near but kept mum
You made me to speak
Kept reminding me about peak
Even thought I was weak
You forced on me to stick
I take it as blessings
There can't be anything like missing
You are always there when I wish to assert
Come out in verses and visibly seen in concert
I know time is precious
Yet thought process is continuous
I know for sure you always remain in my mind
I spare now sometime for you to find
Cuckoo has no business to air melody
That can be assigned to anybody
But some one has to play that role
Nature has made it strictly as per rules
We have to play all kind of roles but differently
To express thoughts and present it vehemently
In such condition you invade mind decisively
I too accept it gladly and project positively
You have distinct place and position
Not all can make effective composition
I consider it as heavenly gift and art
Like Human soul and body as inseparable part
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Back To My Work
It's time for me to write again
The poems were on pause
So as to ease my mind
Now I see it only took my emotions away
It was locked with the thoughts of new poems
Now I'm back and filled to the brim
Here come the poems
For so long tried to escape to paper
Blocked by procrastination and laziness
Welcome to the world new poems
May the paper caress you for years to come
Written January 31,2011
poem by Ryan Collins
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An interest for nature
I have profound interest for nature
The whole world can see a lot more and future
I was damn curious about its impact for sure
More and more peope can be taken or be lured
Who can claim are is dead and can’t be revived?
The nature can be protected and survived
The art form of presentation thorugh words
A clear road ahead for looking forward
The beautiful seasons with lot of messages
The plants and trees laden with fruits for all ages
It is sourceof new aspiration for poets to compose
It is question faith and duty to repose
The natue may catch our imagination
Provide all impetus for words expression
Is it not time to come out of stem root?
Easy and free walk on lawn with bare foot
Everything is natural and unique
You can’t make stories or cook
It is felt and realized internally
The fact is recognized internationally
We may term it as pure imagery
It is heart and soul or mixture of both to poetry
It is clerence and nod for our entry
It is realization of feeling and not mystery
Let it not be made laughable academical
Nothing should be added to make it comical
It is purest form of prayers through words
All sincerity and truthfulness to dear lords
The words are more powerful than sharp edge
It has no language barrier or any age
It can come out at any time and at any place
It is purely a coincidence and not simple race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The time I discovered myself a Poet
I wouldnt say I was patient
but I have an interest in poetry
Is it the dawning of a new error
or will the sky be grey
I write how I see life and it is not always pleasant
I like to write abou experiences that I have been through
my poetry has changed as I ave changed
I see it as a hobby as I write in my grange
My poetry is mainly fiction but I also write about things that are true
I am not a person that would share alot of enthusiasim
poetry is a work of art
on each sheet of blank paper
I put my mark
Poetry is simple in this world of sin
I am not into shakesphere
what I write is authentic
the imagination on paper creates magic
a poem can change an atmosphere
I would like to say my poems mean something
my poems are meant to sting a mind
I want my poems to create pictures for people who are blind
poem by Natasha Browne
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Number one
I want to be number one poet
But how to remain calm quiet
Something more important to write
Ideas clash and make simple fight
Consulted friend to execute the idea
Simply he laughed at my plea
Have you gone mad or insane?
Are you on land or traveling in plane?
Why to write to become number one?
Borrow few from here and there from someone
Add some few words with sugar coating
Resort to some unusual method and fake voting
What are you talking my dear friend?
This will kill poetry and bring an end!
It is better not write at all
Why simple waste for some body’s call
You will die unsung hero,
Nothing will happen and you will be zero
Your poems may be read posthumously
Sometimes it may be published anonymously
But this is ridiculous and unfair dear
If someone comes to know and hear
What impression they will have and bear?
Nobody bothers and no one will shed tear
So many have become number one?
They will be there permanent one
You may come and you may go
They will follow same but you may forgo
I did not heed to his advice,
Became on line but found surprise
“What the hell you are sending request”
Why not beg in street instead go for quest
I shivered for a moment and remembered
This was for asking trouble and uneasy to remember
How person could be so rude and impolite?
There was shock for simple delight
I really felt for those resorting to unfair means
It was not deserving and easy win
However they may rate and find top place
World may forget but loss difficult to replace
What are they trying to prove?
Is it for cause or self image improved?
Why does all methods needed for?
Poems mean poems and not open war
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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