Only To Act
I desired and posted
My poems and boosted
Alas! There were no readers
To corner, hoot or act as advisor
I used to feel sad
Felt hurt and very bad
But they acted like 'touch me not' plant
I failed to extract as per wish and want
I wish them to read more
Offer reaction if they can adore
Write something for at least new comers
They are shining starts and our future
It may open the gate
And as an opportunity to relate
What new things can they have in mind?
It will be nice gift from them to find
I have found little craze
As an animals go on green ground to graze
Not knowing well where to touch
So uncertainty exists for them as such
It is nice to weave thoughts in chain
Put across table in simple form and plain
It may give little glimpse of what do they think
Whether our thoughts deserve to go up or sink
Now stars and moon show little impact
The moon light doesn't appeal in fact
As rave parties and dance floors have taken over
The original charm has lost its fine shield or cover
I wish them to blossom like rose
That may certainly come up and pose
Spread the fragrance and freshen the air
What else we need from them? ............. only to act fare
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
At Right Moment
'You have blown my mind' one of the reader commented
It was with reference to one of my poems posted
'Are there any more words for poet to say' she added
Now it was my turn to feel speechless as I was highly graded
It is nice to feel, when some one staying far, is commenting
Her feeling in simple but in effective way and presenting
I can understand about the state of mind when you are moved
There exists no double thought or opinion to be removed
'We are potter's clay' I humbly stated
We have found no other way
We sing in His praise and enjoy
That is how the life is to be spent with joy
We also know that not all pots survive
Potter makes all efforts to save them and revive
Yet he expresses helplessness at the end
Looks towards sky as if that blessing god has sent
How come poems emerge from tiny mind?
It has no place to store and convenient place to find
I have wondered many times but simply surrendered
It is nothing but a grace that has been showered
I shall relentlessly strive to present
At any place and in any form like crescent moon
It may not offer enough light but a rare glimpse
Still more to say that feeling of divine force
I would love to praise not only about him alone
But nature as well to have come to our aid as one
We fail to notice the merciful act from time to time
Yet they are sent regardless of what we err sometimes
I bow my head in silence and thank
To all those who have become my close friend
Not out of any personal bond or attachment
But due to simple words to have come at right moment
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Why No Reviews?
With tired eyes I scan
Down lists of poems new,
Posted as New Releases,
Written for Me, by You.
Many poems are posted daily,
Hoping to be reviewed by all,
The pages get longer and longer,
Will I find any of mine at all?
It is now the 17th of January,
Hurrah! ! ~ I’ve found two of mine,
Written 2nd and 3rd January,
Will they be seen by my Reviewers as fine?
Why do I torture myself often?
Why must I expect New Reviews?
I’d write my poems as usual,
Whether or not, they’d be read by you.
I force my Mind to write verses,
HIS Thoughts are not directed to me,
Lethargically the words form as poetry,
But with HIS help, they form abundantly.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 17 January 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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I can't see the moon
the thin fibers that hold me together strain against the tautness
the weight becomes unbearable
and I can't see the moon
following the sting, and clouded by haze of my own making, I seek it
that feeling of discovery, of self worth
and I can't see the moon
wisps of smoke shelter me through the torrents
lost in agony, inconsolable
and I can't see the moon
darkness crowds the dark thoughts
suddenly you are out of reach
and I can't see the moon
life is just an illusion darling
but I'll believe you if you tell me it isn't so
yet I still can't see the moon
I lost my trust, but never should have
I am not the one you feel
and I can't see the moon
I thought I found you, but you weren't there at all
somehow you forget I am next to you. your beauty obscures
and I still can't see the moon
all the anger I have felt slips through my fingertips
live while you can
because I can't see the moon
paradise awaits on the other corner of life, knowing
if you love a lot you'll find strength to sing alone
and perhaps you will see the moon
there are a thousand things I want to say
but I can only think of one.
yet I still can't see the moon.
poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul
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A simple dreamer
It is nice to be day dreamers
They can prove as good swimmers
They have the ability to reach shore
They hold their love and adore
Everything things look so good and fine
It can't be experienced in the influence of wine
You may roam all over when sit to dine
Everything is seen holy as that of divine
Lovely to see and nothing to miss
Nice to enjoy and joy with tease
Life so simple and spent at ease
Something to experience with its release
It is nice to be called a fool
Nights are calm and there prevails lull
Stars twinkle with peaceful message
I wonder at sky for smooth passage
I may walk slowly to reach an edge
Nothing so difficult but easily to manage
He may emerge in form of moon
I shall feel coolness in noon
No sun blaze or hot rays can deter
No rising waves or river flow can alter
I think of him only and utter
It is sincere wish and very simple matter
I am not going too far
He may be shining star
I shall submit to dark nights
I have to be there by all my right
You may reign supreme
I can’t go to extreme
I must see light of the day
There must be straight and open way
I can love till the end of tenure
I may not have secured future
I still have good feelings to nurture
You just see the reason and make it sure
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Forgive Me
Forgive me for all my past sins
It was pursued with no aim of any win
It was just a young man’s venture
Without knowing its implications or future
I had proved weak to all the challenges
Failed to materialize support or ably managed
It was colorful life with appetite for all fancy thoughts
Life really seemed unique battle but never fought
I was becoming desperate when at beautiful garden
How many birds were visiting at odd time even?
The flowers were giving long magical spell
There were no enough words to dwell or tell
How can one resist the temptation?
To find all good company in relation
There was nothing to hide as it existed
All joy and fervor wished and insisted
Many lovely birds may move in desired direction
Make strong appeal for union with their action
I too had craze for surrendering to the nature
Everything was available and asking for sure
Forgive me for being bold and little rude
But nothing seemed to me wrong with its prelude
I found myself beautiful figure in mirror despite being nude
I failed to understand why other ideas did not intrude?
It was tender age to mingle with young companions
Form a group and make frequent smooth associations
Life was full of ventures to write with on golden page
Inscribe with own hand what can be best in such young age?
I would love to ask for forgiveness
But it had brought certainly the shine on face
There was clear mad rush and simple drive
Whether one had open mind to accept and believe
After years of long spell I sincerely apologize
Not for all nice acts that led to antagonize
But show of disrespect to elders for not submitting
Landing no ears to their advices or admitting
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Moon Moon
When Moon Moon says
In case of me
To be a quite poet is possible
In addition, I have to be a cool.
When Moon Moon says
The days have to face
Good ways
To begin its first hour
To get its special power.
When Moon Moon says
I cannot hear anybody’s voice
When Moon Moon says
I can realize my age
To do something better
Not caring any matter.
When Moon Moon says
I can guess
She says something special
Those are needed for all.
When Moon Moon says
I have to face
Some case in any case.
When Moon Moon says
Sometimes, no case can be found
Without she says, like
“Hi! How are you
For the few
With your near dear
Are there any tears in your eyes?
When she says…”
Man can be silent
Ocean can be island
He can be brilliant
Even
You can be toys
When Moon Moon says.
When Moon Moon says
All guys are nice
To play with their lives.
When Moon Moon says
Everything seems to us
Like a touch
Of heart,
And
That is a part
Of our life
To survive.
When Moon Moon says
Man pays attention much
Because, what she says, is a touch.
If Moon Moon doesn’t say anything
Then for her not saying
All will be dying.
When she stops saying
Everything seems to me lying.
When she will say
I may
Wait for her
Than other
For sine-dine
Even until I die.
poem by Manir Hossain
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Touch Me
Why don’t you leave me alone and in isolation?
Why is it that you still come and guide me with relation?
Why is it that I still spend sleepless nights?
Internal thoughts clash with mind and fight
You come before eyes when I close for little comfort
I try to forget sweet memories or resort to
No successes as you drive powerfully and invade
You stand in between doors and don’t fade
I fail to close the eyes and turn the back
Again you resurface and eventually crack
Oh god! what is happening for the good?
I fear that I may eventually forget to take food
You ask me about the reassurance with promises
I had done it number of times with so many misses
You whole heatedly forgave me with no regrets
Such was graceful act on your part to allow me or let
I fight for letting bright sun to appear
I can’t imagine its brightness so near
I feel like rejecting all happiness and stay far
The sky, moon and even don’t appeal the stars
Can’t you come again in same form?
I am totally shaken and mentally broken
I fear that I shall never get sound sleep
I shall remain awake and ceaselessly weep
Stars twinkle but don’t appeal
Moon light spread but strong urge is repealed
I shall never hear that morning melody
As I lay unconscious with no movement in body
Will you touch me in form of wind?
Will you spread the light and be kind?
Push me with your gentle touch to come in same for again
Rush to open fields to experience the rain
I hope you will be kind enough
The earth had been unkind and rough
I have now reason to smile or laugh
As you have come back as my better half
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Letters I Didn't Write
I wish you could have read…
The Letters
that I failed to write
I wish you could have felt the touch…
Of hands that failed to
reach out at night
Would’ve liked for you
to have heard…
Words I couldn’t say
Would’ve liked to have felt
The emotions missed…
When I failed to ask you to stay
What you didn’t feel…
When you didn’t hear …
The words I didn’t say
I wish you could have
At least…Felt the love
That you didn’t feel that day
I wish you could’ve known …
The feelings
that I didn’t show
The words I couldn’t bring to light
And tell you
Long ago
I wish somehow,
you could know now
Of things you knew not then
Of words I didn’t say or write
Of touch, or love
Of things... that might have been
poem by David Whalen
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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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My Lovely Rose
I have a rose in the garden,
Unfolding red lovely petals,
With thorns surrounding it,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.
I left the garden,
I left my lovely rose,
Far away yet so near,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.
Time have passed,
Have seen again my rose,
Beautiful and sweetly scented at its full blossom,
Could not touch and smell its fragrance.
My rose is not mine anymore,
Yet I let my rose feel
Thy undoubting care and heart rejoicing,
Could glimpse again my lovely rose.
poem by Dong Agosto
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A candle to melt
The candle that burns till the end
What useful message it tries to send
Simple message of dedication and sacrifice
It must be understood by all without any advice
Can we not see the way it melts?
Can we not express it in the way it has been felt?
The beautiful flowers adore the garden
The wind may blow the fragrance gently and not all of sudden
Some of the characters always perish without any notice
They stand all for devotion and still look very nice
It is not the way you lead the life but stand for it
No words may supplement action if it is exemplary feat
They may have little life to shine
Nothing may go in their favor to look fine
The life may spread the fragrance
It may indicate clearly upon your entrance
Many people try to remain in isolation
Fame or name is bearing no relation
They may try to remain as little known factor
Such achievement can be observed in many sectors
You dedicate and disappear as first desired step
It may bridge the gulf without creating further gap
Why not to try in the unexplored and unknown fields?
It may not give you any return or shining shields
Heroes always remain unheard and unsung
They bear all the agony and bear the burnt’
They may never complain about ill treatment
Their presence is felt with every movement
We may live longer without any purpose
No one may appreciate you or offer the rose
It is undoubting task to be pursued further
It has nothing to do with any weather
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Chain Reaction
Something bout the way
The moon and the stars are moving across the sky
Something in the still night air is telling me now is the time to try
Ive been scheming, dreaming up a plan of how to get to you
Now conditions are right deep in the night
To do what Ive got to do
To start up a chain, chain, chain, chain reaction
Chain, chain, chain, chain reaction
Im no fool, Ill be cool
Its a powerful thing that Im trying to do
Gonna fix it up, mix it up good
Handle with care like I know I should
And blow it sky high, sky high
With a chain, chain, chain, chain reaction
Chain, chain, chain, chain reaction
Set a spark to the heart
That will start up the soul attraction
Get to the mystery of the chemistry
Chain, chain reaction
Chain, chain reaction
(repeat)
That fires up the satisfaction
Chain, chain reaction
Chain, chain reaction
song performed by by Wynonna Judd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Modern poetry
What do you witness in modern poetry?
Does it represent sentiments of any country?
Do fond actual spirit missing and has evaporated?
It seems mind is bogged down and perforated,
No reflection of nature, snow clad mountains in poems?
Not concrete views on subjects and lack proper themes,
Short size of lines and left to readers for views
Read out as Para or commentary in news
No curse or regret in words for any message
Be silent spectator and clear smooth way for passage
Our poetic soul has died long back,
We write artificially as if standing on jack,
We have completely lost faith in system around,
We are back to the square one nothing new is found
limitation in expression of ideas and are not found suitable or sound
People do not appreciate as it has lost the ground,
Has the level of writing gone up or we leg behind?
Does the nature has lost its charm and nothing new find
Forests are depleted and wild animals has lost cover
what is left in nature is simply to imagine over?
Ozone layer is depleting and glaciers are sliding
Air is completely polluted and we are minding
Rivers are added with affluent discharge,
there is health hazard and risk is looming large
What to write in modern poems?
Where is inspiration with good theme?
Who has the time to spare for nature?
We are concerned with only future
How come old themes are rich with heritage?
Why do they not fall under class vintage/
They still inspire us in our daily routine
Lot many ways to be explored and put in
How our ancestors could write great epics?
There were tragic events including comics
Every part so interwoven with delicate presentation
Still we prefer it to be put in our quotation
Love epics are down with limited object
Suicides and downing in river is the only subject
News papers are full of robbery and murders
Little we offer as solace and only murmur
Death as horrified subject is only to be covered
Its impact is only to be lowered
What else we can offer in present day of living?
We must go deep for analytical study with forced diving
What message we carry for the masses?
No one has to worry and make passes
we are the real voice for any uprising
Only passion should be aroused for rising
Still we have so much to offer
Subject same but opinions differ,
Message should be simple but has to be widely read
Mass appeal for love and peace but not hatred
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Beating The Blues
You have seen my face
You have seen the way I smile the way I bend my back
My shoulder leaning on the door
As though greeting you
A nice day a promising future
The glow of sun
The coolness of the moon
The splash on the clear blue waters
By the pool
By the sea
The sail boat passing by
The ship on anchor
By the wharf
And the cotton clouds hanging
By the green mountains
The poems I write are sad
You read them and you cry
You say you relate
You say you feel
The sadness of my lines
Now you ask me
Who am i?
Was I the butterfly dreaming about the sad man?
Or was I the sad man dreaming about the butterfly?
You are confused
I am not; I choose what I want to be
I am what I am
This moment,
And the moments that you imagine me to be
I write what I want
I am what I am
Some lines may be lying
But read them all over again
I may be there
between those lines somewhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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344
You have seen my face
You have seen the way I smile the way I bend my back
My shoulder leaning on the door
As though greeting you
A nice day a promising future
The glow of sun
The coolness of the moon
The splash on the clear blue waters
By the pool
By the sea
The sail boat passing by
The ship on anchor
By the wharf
And the cotton clouds hanging
By the green mountains
The poems I write are sad
You read them and you cry
You say you relate
You say you feel
The sadness of my lines
Now you ask me
Who am i?
Was I the butterfly dreaming about the sad man?
Or was I the sad man dreaming about the butterfly?
You are confused
I am not; I choose what I want to be
I am what I am
This moment,
And the moments that you imagine me to be
I write what I want
I am what I am
The lines may be lying
But read them again
I may be somewhere in the lines between
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You ask me who am I really?
You have seen my face
You have seen the way I smile the way I bend my back
My shoulder leaning on the door
As though greeting you
A nice day a promising future
The glow of sun
The coolness of the moon
The splash on the clear blue waters
By the pool
By the sea
The sail boat passing by
The ship on anchor
By the wharf
And the cotton clouds hanging
By the green mountains
The poems I write are sad
You read them and you cry
You say you relate
You say you feel
The sadness of my lines
Now you ask me
Who am i?
Was I the butterfly dreaming about the sad man?
Or was I the sad man dreaming about the butterfly?
You are confused
I am not; I choose what I want to be
I am what I am
This moment,
And the moments that you imagine me to be
I write what I want
I am what I am
The lines may be lying
But read them again
I may be somewhere in the lines between
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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 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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