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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A poetic thoughts
“Hi, how do the poetic thoughts emerge in mind”?
I was unable to react and reply to the question of its kind
I had to struggle hard for the answer to find
I just kept cool and struggled in mind
I pleaded her for putting good thoughts across
You must have enough of trust in cross
It is not brilliance of an individual
You get it with blessings very casual
it got to be translated into words immediately
It may have no use if done very lately
Its real impact and feelings may go away
You may not have any means to recollect or find the way
It can be great moment of joy for self and family
It has not been forced on you heavily
The family and friends definitely strengthen the line
You exceedingly perform well and feel very fine
There is no dearth of good thoughts all over
It has good backing and natural cover
To translate and add color to it is not that difficult
Such quality is inherent and inbuilt
You can nicely compose if you determine one day
You may certainly find the resolve and clear way
There is every possibility of surging ahead
You may one day excel and definitely lead
You should have natural instinct to pick up leads
Try to put in fine composition with interwoven words
It may result in fine creation of poetry
you may have then full satisfaction with remarkable entry
You can try to translate feelings into action
It must have fine combination with good reaction
It may give then good sense of satisfaction
This is poetry skill and very good indication
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I Read Today A Hundred Poems
I read today a hundred poems
And cannot find
A single one that moved me -
Perhaps it is not the poems
But my poetic soul
that has no life -
I remember a poem
I read yesterday by Neruda
How beautiful how deep
How filled with passion and longing-
How rich in surprise-
I marvel at the greatness
Of his Poetry of Love-
There is Poetry
One only has to read a true poet
To find it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sonnet: Future of Poetry
Poems I thought had good rhythm and Rhyme,
And a moral good at the end of each;
Good Poems I thought should the test of time,
And remained well within the masses’ reach.
Poems I thought had nice music in them,
With apt words placed in right place in each case;
It was a time for Poetry’s Anthem;
Alas, the art is in for a rat-race!
Modern Poetry that is being writ,
From Prose is hard to ever from it sift;
Slang, vulgarities somehow find a place;
’Tis doomsday for poetry at this pace!
Turned has the Wheel of Time almost fully;
’Tis time to draw water with the pulley!
poem by John Celes
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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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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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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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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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A Spirit Of Poetry!
when a spirit of poetry decent,
it came
In a form of dove
When it came
Jesus became first poet under sun
And Almighty God
Was already, first poet over sun?
Using Poetry in poetic foam
Almighty GOD spoke through poetry
And he is a poet himself
Now his poetry is everywhere, and anywhere
We interact with poets
Words are like soil, are everywhere
Brighter that Sun
His poetic lights lead the way
When he likes
He will come
He will be in poetic foam
To Re-arrange poems
Schedule them in a poetic manner
On a judgment, He will met poets first
And secondly meet
Those who haven't written a poem
To Discuss similes, metaphors and personifications
Future of poetry is in heaven
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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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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Poetic Friend
I just met a friend on line who
complimented my poems of verse and rhyme.
He saw something in it which I can’t describe.
As if we had became one of a kind.
It was as if I had become the poetry
Instead of it coming out of me.
My poems and I became as one
As the sky with the sun.
This is a feeling which I find hard to
Put into words, like a voice which
Had never been heard,
Like the final door that has to be opened
And you have the key, that will set your
Mind and heart free.
Is there really a point in life
Where we become what we write?
Have I really gotten to such a threshold
Or is it that I’m getting old?
I guess I’m getting old!
For this is the story that I’ve been told.
Ha-ha got to love it!
poem by Louis Rams
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Anything in between
I can’t become anything even if I want to
I can’t attempt simply and pass though
It has certain norm and has to be met
Goal and priority should be decided and has to be set
Nothing materializes all of sudden
If you are sure of it then only it is done
You may get the success or fail
All your efforts may help you to sail
I know how to excel as good poet
I have revolutionary ideas but have to keep quiet
I may have strong will power to change the world order
It may some time result into disorder
How do the ideas enter into empty memory?
How do they develop into in to fine poetry?
Words after words may occupy different position
It may result then into fine composition
Can this lead into conflicting views?
Does the poet get its proper dues?
Can this land him into disarray/
Can this also take readers in to his way?
It is difficult to judge and visualize
Nobody can prejudge and lateralize
It may touch the inner core of the heart
It may land into garbage before entering mart
I have no time to think about all this things
It has to be an honest attempt at something
It may not find place today then possibly tomorrow
Some time has to be given to express the sorrow
It may have premature demise
No one can guarantee or promise
At every step it must be revised
Some new ideas to be set in and formula devised
The poets are small vanes of the society
It must pick correct mood and offer in variety
There s no use to present the which is obsolete
It has to be unique an din it self complete
The poets are not emerging in a day or two
They are subjected to litmus test and have to pass through
Not possible that it may find all the time good favor
The quality and product both must have flavor and fervor
If your ideas resonate with rhythm and synchronize
If it can meet the challenge and people too sympathize
It is certainly possible to have all glory and fame
Otherwise one common thing to share is blame
Nothing goes out of tune in the mind
You must have suitable words ready to find
I must altogether touch the reader’s ideology
There has to be common approach without any bogey
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Traffic Jam: The Trap Of Traffic Light
It's not only test your luck, but also test your patience
It's not only test your guts, but also test your instinct
It's not only test your sanity, but also test your obedience to law
It's not only test your ethics, but also test your fidelity
It's not only test your sight, but also test your reflex
It's not only test your estimation of time, but also test your street knowledge
It's not only test your ego, but also test your kindness
It's not only test your control, but also test your awareness
It's not only test your attitude, but also test your responsibility
It's not only test your priority, but also test your humanity
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Two Hearts One Love
You are the moonlight I am the stars
Together we light up the night
You are the passion I am the flame
We are both one and the same
I am the taker you are the chance
This is the rule of romance
I am the seeker you are the find
Together we are two of a kind
Two hearts one love beating together
I am yours you are mine
Two hearts one love always forever
Standing the test of time
I can be happy you can be sad
Together things arent so bad
You are the sailor I am the sea
The treasure of eternity
Two hearts one love beating together
I am yours you are mine
Two hearts one love always forever
Standing the test of time
Here we are the two of us
Nothing in our way
Wanting you wanting me
Everyday
Two hearts one love beating together
I am yours you are mine
Two hearts one love always forever
Standing the test of time
You are the passion I am the flame
We are both one and the same
Two hearts one love beating together
I am yours you are mine
Two hearts one love always forever
Standing the test of time
Two hearts one love beating together
I am yours you are mine
Two hearts one love always forever
Standing the test of time
song performed by by Shania Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valentine’s day
Valentine’s Day of nineteen ninety nine;
‘Twas the forty-second birthday of mine!
A day, I cannot forget in my life!
My first book of poems published ’midst strife.
Eight months’ poetic work came to lime-light!
My Pen’s struggle got covered with delight;
It started like India’s Pokhran Blast!
And ended with a fine finish at last.
I have joined the band of Poets today!
A proud Indian Poet, I should say;
Stunning array of poems, I display;
My heart pounds with music and is gay.
Just a sample of my poetic skill,
Like a bolt from the Firmament, it fell;
To my airy lute, loud tolls the Church bell;
Every literary heart is full of thrill.
A turning point in my career, perhaps;
Stimulating my right Brain’s many gaps;
This God-given Talent, I better use;
In me, the world will see a mighty Muse!
The happiest day in my life, I feel;
My yester-years’ woes are put under seal;
My Poesy had got off to a fine start;
I’ve got to toil hard for my poet’s art.
poem by John Celes
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Life in Motion
I am not regular visitor
To shrines, churches or mosques
Yet I believe firmly in creator
But I find long wait and queues
I am blessed with his kind eye
That sees whole universe with smile
I find no tense moments when stat to write
As the wind carries in sky my little kite
We are held firmly by his wishes
How many may be daily waiting to perish?
Some may be parting with so much pleasure!
And some may be unfulfilled with discomfort and unsure
I did the work with difference
Projected all views through sentences
Might have gone here and there without precision
Yet that was perfect moment with clear decision
I knew no meaning of good poetry
I thought it may fine putting of words like good oratory
It proved little difficult when put into practice
It seemed all the more difficult to fulfill promises
It remained very in tense at heart
Some one rightly said” it is prayer with art”
Not all can sing a praises in his songs
As we are selfish and prove all the time wrong
My heart aches when hear some bitter words
I don’t take it to heart and believe in lord
I close eyes and pray for next good moment
Never bear a grudge in mind or lament
This makes me less vulnerable
I am more confident and capable
Poetic words flow from innocent heart
I think life can make with it a good start
What else can I do to project it properly?
But I have found the way to feel it happily
I think it is pure grace that poems flow directly
Those words create some harmony in mind divinely
Sure those words may be cutting across
People may be finding it boring or clear loss
I take it simple way of reaching to kind people
If little can be done to relieve their problems and troubles
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Not Regular Visitor
I am not regular visitor
To shrines, churches or mosques
Yet I believe firmly in creator
But I find long wait and queues
I am blessed with his kind eye
That sees whole universe with smile
I find no tense moments when stat to write
As the wind carries in sky my little kite
We are held firmly by his wishes
How many may be daily waiting to perish?
Some may be parting with so much pleasure!
And some may be unfulfilled with discomfort and unsure
I did the work with difference
Projected all views through sentences
Might have gone here and there without precision
Yet that was perfect moment with clear decision
I knew no meaning of good poetry
I thought it may fine putting of words like good oratory
It proved little difficult when put into practice
It seemed all the more difficult to fulfill promises
It remained very in tense at heart
Some one rightly said” it is prayer with art”
Not all can sing a praises in his songs
As we are selfish and prove all the time wrong
My heart aches when hear some bitter words
I don’t take it to heart and believe in lord
I close eyes and pray for next good moment
Never bear a grudge in mind or lament
This makes me less vulnerable
I am more confident and capable
Poetic words flow from innocent heart
I think life can make with it a good start
What else can I do to project it properly?
But I have found the way to feel it happily
I think it is pure grace that poems flow directly
Those words create some harmony in mind divinely
Sure those words may be cutting across
People may be finding it boring or clear loss
I take it simple way of reaching to kind people
If little can be done to relieve their problems and troubles
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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Love You
Dearest T…,
Great to hear from you!
I’m glad the hospital didn’t confiscate
your mobile and your laptop
this time…
but – what can I say?
I’m sorry to hear that
your break-up with the new bf
was so violent – well, at least
you’re highly trained in law h h h…
but I’m glad to hear
that you changed your mind
when you got to Zurich…
I’d like to know more of that;
but won’t ask just now..
and I’m touched that the two poems
on the riches of the self
were the first poems that you read
when you came back into the ward…
should I be glad, you silly girl,
that they ‘made your mascara run’…?
Oh dearest T - whom I love, as the self in all;
who’s stretched the love of parents, friends,
beyond all reason, to that place where only love
is left… to do what love can, may, might, do…
you’ll go on testing the – let’s say –
Absolute’s – God’s – love for you
with tests that only someone so loving,
so intelligent, so aware, so stubborn for the truth
could devise, as self-destruction…
until the day, when you’ll accept
within that sober, loving self we know so well,
that you, yourself, are but that absolute, that self, that love
which you have no need still to test; nor can;
until that day when, out of love,
your self tires of your tricks…
keep me in touch? for there are some of us
who know that love is boundless;
useless, T, to test our love for you;
and you’re too bright (alas?) for me
to tell you yet again
the consolations of philosophy..
I’ll simply write,
Look after yourself;
and look, then, at those words
as if I’d never seen or read them once before;
fall still; wish you, too, stillness;
there is no more for words.
Michael
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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A goal in sight
One two or go on making it to eight hundred
The poems may go on piling without any end
There is definite goal or aim in sight
You might attain it or would like to continue the fight
'You are good man but bad poet'
I read message which cautioned me not to write
This is not right place for you to reflect the views
I too felt it needed constant reviews
It has become craze among writers
They try to play easy and not prove as good fighters
They may approach readers to view their articles
They also try to limit themselves in small circle
'You read my article and I shall read yours'
This may please each other to have some favors
The quality may limit to one particular leave
The writers may not have good chance to excel
The flaws or drawbacks may not be pointed to him at all
It may be crushed under friendly observation or call
Why at all we need to approach viewers to comment?
Is there no other option to approach them for a moment?
Many comment sarcastically as if they are very good expert
The writer' only crime is request for support
This is not essentially to find any favor at the outset
It is only aimed at getting foot hold to set
Some writers get alienated over the honest remark
They want favorable remarks when try to venture or embark
This is not correct approach as it may not allow their real talents to surface
It may block the creativity and finally they enter in mad race
Any human being may not be pleased with the criticism
It hurts their ego and they take it affront to individualism
The relation has to be kept at one side and profession on other
Both should not be mixed and it should not concern or bother
The writing skill is God's gift and may come out as creation
To some it may prove dine piece and to others only recreation
Everybody has different perception and right to evaluate
The writers weight pro and con and the calculate
It is always nice to find place with some recognition
Your pen may be contributing more with ammunition
They may embark up on new themes and excel
Everything may then move on sound footing to fare well
Let us bear in mind that writing is good skill
They must write original and not try to steal
This may give them real test of poetry
It may prompt them to write new and it may also vary
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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