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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poems I've Considered Writing..All Thanks to You..

It seems I'm writing more
Than I have for quite some time..
It's not always good writing
Sometimes It's just a matter of getting out my emotions on paper
Though they say you shouldn't put everything on paper
But,
That wouldn't make me much of a writer then, would it..
I don't do it on purpose..
To be honest,
I can't really help it..
And,
When I contemplate some of the poems I've thought of writing
Since our acquaintance
Well,
Some of the following titles spring to mind..
'This should be interesting'
'I wonder how I'll ever get on in this place'
'I hope I make a good enough impression'
But, then, that's not specific to you, is it..
I'm always worried about making a good impression, doing a good job, working on bettering me...worried about what others may or may not think
I'm not in competition with anyone but myself and sometimes I think that's
Tougher than competing with someone else..
'Ummmm...I don't know what to think'
'Someone thinks highly of themselves'
This would have been about you by the way..
I guess first impressions aren't always accurate
'I think I can trust you'
'Maybe I've made a friend'
'Why did that feel like a date'
'What's wrong with me'
'Something to look forward to'
'Saying Goodbye'
'Hello Again'
'I like having you as my friend'
'Someone to talk to'
'That's...Not..What..! ! ! '
Because sometimes I feel like I can read your mind..
And,
It's not always on it's best behavior, is it..
I hope that doesn't change... it makes me smile.
'I Have to Admit, You're Kind-a Sweet'
'Nooooo! ! ! '
This would have been a funny poem..As would,
'Do you mean what you say, when you say what you say'
But, then.. I think..
'Maybe it's all in my head'
Let's face it.. I am known to think too much, too often, all the time...
It's a minor glitch with my mind...
Then, there was the minor incident where..
'Being Forced to Face That I'm Feeling....Something'
But, that's just hard for me to do..so,
'Bury it, Pretend it Doesn't Exist'
Or
'We Aren't Going to Talk About the Elephant in the Room'
Were poems that were quite appropriate to write..
I didn't write them..
Well, not quite that way..
Some others would have been,
'Uneasy with My Feelings'
'I Wonder What You Really Think of Me'
'Too Bad I Can't Read Minds'
'I'd love to know what your first impression of me was...does it still hold true'
I don't know if you have read my work..
I sometimes think it's you..
But, I figure there's no way for me to know
Unless you give me a clue..
And, maybe you have
But, subtleties are lost on me
Especially when it comes to you..
So I write..
Or contemplate writing poems..
With funny titles
Titles that don't always mean what they say
Or say how I feel
Or are specific to you...
Because writers write..
It's what they do
But, sometimes
My Poems
Might be
Just for you...

poem by Rabia Minhas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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Operator

Operator, oh could you help me place this call
You see the number on the matchbook is old and faded
She's livin' in l.a.
With my best old ex-friend ray
A guy she said she knew well and sometimes hated
Isn't that the way they say it goes
But let's forget all that
And give me the number if you can find it
So i can call just to tell them i'm fine and to show
I've overcome the blow
I've learned to take it well
I only wish my words could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real
But that's not the way it feels
Operator, oh could you help me place this call
'cause i can't read the number that you just gave me
There's something in my eye's
You know it happens every time
I think about the love that i thought would save me
Isn't that the way they say it goes
But let's forget all that
And give me the number if you can find it
So i can call just to tell them i'm fine and to show
I've overcome the blow
I've learned to take it well
I only wish my words could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real
But that's not the way it feels
Operator, oh let's forget about this call
There's no one there i really wanted to talk you
Thank you for your time
Oh you've been so much more than kind
And you can keep the dime
Isn't that the way they say it goes
But let's forget all that
And give me the number if you can find it
So i can call just to tell them i'm fine and to show
I've overcome the blow
I've learned to take it well
I only wish my words could just convince myself
That it just wasn't real
But that's not the way it feels

song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Worry Not My Dear Friend

Worry not my dear friend
I am not the person
To put you in trouble water
Remember the number
Go not after the number
It would be blunder.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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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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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Knowing you might some day come

Knowing you might some day come
and how unprepared I’ve always
been
like Mr. Sloppy
in Charles Dickens’
our Mutual Friend
I made a list:
not meat, vegetables, beer and pudding
but number l, warmth.
number 2, warmth.
number 3, warmth.
number 4, a good snuggler.
number 5, someone who sings
while he/she works.
number 6, a dancer.
number 7, someone who grows & is
intrigued by
the mind. And
by the spirit too.
Number 7, someone who is loved
by animals; and loves
them back without
a thought.
number 8, someone who smells
delicious.
number 9, someone whose anger
lasts no longer than mine.
number 10, someone who
stands beside me. behind me. If necessary
in front of me.
number 11, someone who
is a passable cook.
number 12, Someone who laughs
a lot, thinks I have a fine
sense
of humor
& has friends.
number 13, someone who can be
original in dress:
stylish
warlock –In silver, lapis
& black – to my witch.

poem by Alice Walker
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Divine Poetry

Poet never ceases to be poet
He can't remain quiet
He is not dependant on fate
He is with the scene and never late

Poetry is my food
I have completely understood
If I fail to write anytime in a day
That is enough cause for me to be taken away

I shall be no more
If thoughts compel me to feel bore
Thoughts just emerge from the idle store
Pen gets strength to write more and more

Poetry is dear to me like wife
It is also like an edge of knife
It may compel you to write tough
And land you in trouble to pass through rough

But you got to be fearless
As that may be tough situation to face
Many readers may try to pull your legs
When your are reciting it on the stage

It is easy to swim in imagery
Float in dreams with lines silvery
Moon may seem very near
To enjoy its beauty without fear

Poetry as such is divine gift
It may never allow having shift
He is the one who instills thought
When with peaceful mind they are sought

It is divinity that makes home
Pen must write always to welcome
Readers must enjoy skill and talent
Swim with melody and enjoy the moment

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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0009 Favorite Poem

and you can’t remember much
about the first time you read it except
that it held you to the end, but most of all
this one line, which seemed to hold
the key to the whole poem

as if you were opening the closet of your mind
to bring out something which you knew was there
but instead something way at the back
called to you and you remembered
a moment from way back you thought
you had forgotten

and then you read the poem again
in company with the poet and
yes that’s it, and the two of you
became friends for life, almost
related.

So, now you’ve read all their poems,
feel some more than others but
as if you wrote them all in the same room
where you read them together
and you wait for their new book with
a sorta family pride

and like family,
you leave the poems for a spell,
grow up a little, then
come back to visit -
they mean more;
can it be,
you've both grown?
each time you come back to them
you carry them more close to you

in fact you feel that you could write
poems very much like theirs
as if you’d inherited, too,
the family gift

and though you wouldn’t of course
seek them out in person except
in a reading where you’d
have to share their warmth
with the rest of their extended family
but not say much since
you are a, well, close relative,

if you happened to be driving a route
not far from them, you’d detour,
park a little distance from their house,
but have it in your sight,
hope you might catch a movement,
wait a few minutes, then
start the car with almost a sigh

half relieved that you didn’t have to try
on their cautiously polite doorstep
to find words to say
you love them in their words,
which you almost wrote together,
lived them together;
love them like life itself,
love them

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Being A Poet

I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.

Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.

At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.

If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.

There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.

I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.

Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.

In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.

With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.

Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!

poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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It Is A Habit

writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry

and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Was Away From The Poems

I was away from the Poems
I could not hear them within myself -
There were many sounds
Many different kinds of words
And speakers and ranters and shouters
And all kinds of false music also
And even beautiful music and prayer-

But there were no poems
I could hear no poems
And within myself suddenly there came such ‘longing’
And such ‘anxiety’-
‘Where is the Poem? And where can I possibly be if there is none?
And how can I find it again? ’

And all I needed I thought was some long long long silence
Some being alone and away
Some forever waiting to hear
Some listening to the true voice
And then somehow somehow the Poems would come again –

And here here here it is now
The poem
Quiet and sure and happy and light and singing
As if it were the one music God wanted me to hear
And repeat always as if it truly were mine and yours
Dear imagined reader,
Alone.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Top Ten Reasons I Would Make a Lousy Poetry Critic

(Letterman style countdown)

Number Ten: Because I probably lack the skill to determine where another’s failings lie
Number Nine: Because I doubt that anyone else really has such infallible skill
Number Eight: Because I lack the desire to render negative opinions of another’s work
Number Seven: Because I question the true motives of any one who readily renders scathing critiques
Number Six: Because I believe in positive reinforcement rather than accentuating negatives
Number Five: Because I don’t wish to have any hand in discouraging or killing the dreams of other poets
Number Four: Because I believe that what people write is far more important than the skill they show in doing it.
Number Three: Because the majority of poetry derives from a warm heart and most criticism originates from cold indifferent intellect
Number Two: Because I know what it feels like to be on the other end of the equation

And the Number One reason I would make a lousy poetry critic:

Because, poetically speaking, I live in a glass house.

poem by Mary Havran
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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