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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Related quotes
Top slot
I wanted to be number one poet
Controlled urge so much but how to remain quiet?
Something more was to be done important thing to write
Ideas continued to emerge and made me to fight
Consulted over friend as how to execute the idea
He laughed it out at my humble plea
He retorted by saying “Have you gone mad or insane”?
What you want to be air borne and fly in plane?
“Why you want to write and to become number one?
You may borrow few lines from here and there from someone
Add some few words more with sugar coating
You will adopt some unusual method and resort to fake voting”
“What are you talking about my dear friend?
This will kill poetry itself and bring it to an end
It is better not to write at all
Why simply to waste time for some body’s call”
“You will die as unsung hero
Nothing will change and you will be zero
Your poems may be read posthumously
Sometimes it may be published anonymously too” friend discouraged me
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 might try to become number one?
They will not be there as permanent number one
You may come or you may just go
It will be followed on same but you may just it forgo
I did not heed to his advice,
Became active on line but only to find surprise
“What the hell you are sending request”
Why not beg in street instead of going for request” blasted young reader
I shivered for a moment and remembered
This was for asking trouble and uneasy to remember
How person could be so rude and impolite? I thought
There was shock for simple instead of delight
I really felt for those who were resorting to unfair means
They did not deserve but went for easy win
However they may rated high and find top place
World may forget it soon about mad race
What are they trying to prove?
Is it for cause or for self image to improve?
Why all methods do is needed for?
Poems mean poems and are not meant for open war
I thought for a second and decided to quit
It was not easy to climb and sit
It may dethrone you at any moment
There is unhealthy competition fake movement
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I Am My Poem
When you see me,
you see my poems.
For when i breath, i breath out ballads.
But vers libre express my heart.
Should i write in complicated
and rhythmic words to make
my poems deep and beautiful?
My life is complicated already.
Should i write in simple and
enticing words to make
my poems attractive?
My life is not that simple.
Like stream to the river
down to the sea,
so is my poems from my
soul to my spirit down to my body.
You may disapprove me
but come and take a walk
within my soul and see if
you can live there for a moment.
So when i write, must i
invite you to read.
Read if you want to.
I write because the chamber
of soul finds relieve.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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a poem for Ms. UNL
you may want a poem
for your life, maybe tomorrow, something that you can borrow
life,
a lifeful of life, a bed of sex not roses, a pool of orgasms
not the usual organisms that you feed
to kill the killing hours, not doves or kittens
a number of hugs, those that make you warm and huggable
i want to give you these poems today,
perhaps in my wet dreams, in my dirty mind,
perhaps i will swallow the whole of your body
and savor your soul
in the poems that i will write for you,
and perhaps you may like them
sublimally,
subconsciously, like the way you sometimes pretend to hate my smell,
they way you detest my
virtual presence,
but i know you well enough,
you only like something small and kind
this kiss
this little respect from my simple line
something like
i miss you
and be good, sleep tight, and have some sweet dreams
my dear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Do You Write Poetry
There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!
9 November 2011
poem by David Harris
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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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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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The Poems Have Lost Their Way
THE POEMS HAVE LOST THEIR WAY
The poems have lost their way-
They have become simple statements of feeling,
Flat and plain
Dull and one- dimensional.
The poems have become non- poetic,
And yet I write them still.
For what do I have now in writing
But my poetry?
And who knows if they do not
In their simple way
Say something to others
Meaningful to them?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poet’s Prayer
Lord forgive me
That I have chosen to become a poet
Forgive me for what I write
The poems of my life
Grant me such devotion
To write the poems that I love
Grant me the love of poetry
That must not distract me
From tenderness
Make my desire last long
Make my disillusion short
Uproot from me these impure desires
From those poems that trouble me
Let not some images confuse me
Let not some metaphors numb me
Let not my dullness sadden me
Let your radiance descend upon
The modesty of my poems
As you once gave radiance
To the prophets who cannot speak
For themselves
Let me be a strong poet
Able to love and defend
the poems for the
women and children and land
Grant me the talent to make
The poems that they may still
Recite and remember
Even when I am gone
In my weakness as a poet
Make me strong
To scorn the poems that are not pure
To shy away from the fires
And flames that do not light
The lives of other men
And women too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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I Write Poetry
I write not poetry for the poor
for tears from their swelled up eyes
smudge and erase my words,
I write poetry not for the rich
for the splotches from their fat and cheese
hide my lines of wise,
I write poetry for not men to read
for in their skirmishes, poems are trashes
like beans spilled in pond full of slush,
I write poetry for the men not to read
for poems are little words, little music
little cry that the men cant touch or destroy,
poem by Saranyan Bee
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All I Can Do Is Write Poems
ALL I CAN DO IS WRITE POEMS
All I can do is write poems
I have nothing else to say-
Only what Poetry alone can give
The expression of the soul
The deepest feeling we have
Whatever is in us and hurts the most
And needs most to be said.
All I can do in pain is write poems
But when the gladness comes?
When the happiness returns?
I will try too to to find words
For what is unsayable.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sonnet: Unique Are My Poems All
Who knew the kind of stuff, I was made of?
Who thought would flow my numbers, this much fast?
And now, the world around me dare not laugh;
As Indian Sonneteer, my spell is cast.
My other poems too are very good;
Simple, direct, they often have morals;
And write most poems in fast-track, I could;
And most of them will bring many laurels.
I writ my poems for all men to read;
They have the answers, they had been seeking;
And some do happen to be hybrid seed;
And they will find many to their liking.
My poems will help them to live better;
And Doctor John Celes is trend-setter!
poem by John Celes
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To A Friend Who Says That She Does Not Know How To Write A Poem Anymore
it is sad, when you think that you do not know
how to write a poem anymore
a simple poem as simple as you
what does it take for humanity to write one poem?
does it take that much from those who claim they know the way?
shall blood be shed to drive another point?
do not lose hope in the power of our ordinary words,
for as long as we quiver, poems are written
for as long as we lose the consciousness about our beings
the metaphors always come and build upon themselves their own meanings
take your time, breathe the air of poetry, and let the molecules
enter your lungs that long to see the light of the sun,
just be patient, keep on waiting, savor the silence, shower yourself
with the light of the moon, on another lonely night,
sleep soundly, and listen to the sound of your snores,
in your dreams, the poems write themselves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Just A Poet
I am just a poet
Poems are my life
Words are the soul
The pen is my might.
Versus are the cup
From which that I drink
And knowledge is the bread
From which my mind is fed.
I live if just to write
The words that I cant speak,
For locked away in my mind
Are the versus to be rhymed.
I am but a simple writer
With a pen and pad in hand
Gazing at the sky and trees
To write what man should read.
I have walked many trodden paths
And down many mournful road,
Now I write about their tears and fears
For now they have became my soul.
I cant cure a mans health
Nor can I stop a war
As I am not much as I see myself
A poor man who loves the Lord.
And when I walk my last mile
And then I'll write my last smile
And on my pad it will show it
That I was but, a simple poet.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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I don't write poems
I don't write poems,
I drink them like wine,
I become tipsy
with each coming line.
I don't write poems,
I breathe them like air,
I become so happy
when each one I share.
I don't write poems,
I live with them;
they prolong my years,
they are as true as I am.
I don't write poems,
I weave into verses
sadness, joy, tears,
prayers, love, curses…
My poems talk and sing,
Sense of living they bring.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
26th of April,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Isms, Isms, Isms
thank god poetry has inched its way
into the hearts of the common man again
let's not make its journey there too laborious
let's write poems for the common man
like Blake, like Wordsworth, like Neruda
poems that sing and dance as they make their
way out to the the sea of humanity
poems of the Creator's brush that paint an
enchanting innocent world to be unravelled
as they make their way into the repository of human knowledge
let's make it all that simple, like making tea
when all we have to ask is whether it should
be sweet or plain yet are sure it will be fully savoured
let's write poem with the common men's words
so that it can be embraced without apprehension
let's not extort an art of its life and gentility so that
they are drowned in a sea of isms, isms, isms
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Few Poems Are Remembered
FEW POEMS ARE REMEMBERED
Few poems are remembered -
Few poems are ever really known-
Few poems are chosen -
Few poems make us want to return to them again and again-
Out of thousands written every day
Perhaps one poem in a decade
Perhaps less.
This is not the poem.
One can write a lifetime
Without ever writing one such poem.
Most of us never write the poem
And most of us are not remembered either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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One Out Of Ten
goal was only
to write one good
poem out of ten...
therefore
just writing
is important
poems people actually
like can be surprising?
but a simple one in ten...
goal means 240 intriguing
or good poems achieved?
to write at least one interesting
element or altered
perspective was relative
to composed most...
even posted
poetic failures
as strangely
some like
enjoy fractures
go figure...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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