Truth To Tell
When your heart melts
The depth of sea is felt
All unknown kind of treasure tries to come out
The mighty pen tries to speak it all about
It is felt by others and appreciated
As it has something to be related
So far not done by anybody else
Joy, happiness pain including curse
Ideas flow like river water
But any times they may alter
If find with stiff resistance
It will change course without any insistence
You need not think about plot
It is already with the poet
Only needs little impetus
Pure innovation with ample thrust
Little plight may affect your heart
For sufferings of poor ache may start
That is how human beings are made
Poets are no different and don't treat it as trade
Love feeling is with everyone
Even cruel may have it as one
He may long for his family and children
And rush to them with slight bad news even
So you should pen whatever you feel
That can be called Almighty's will
No all can write or pen exceedingly well
Each individual has different truth to tell
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A worry for homeless
Why I don’t worry about homeless?
Why do I roam aimlessly and careless?
I have nothng to show on face
You won’t find any regret or trace
I have enough to last long
I hope nothing goes wrong
It shall remain same forever
I have full safety with cover
This is thinking of common man
He is contended with as human
He hasn’t come across the pain and agony
Hw hasn’t seen the horrible plight of many
I would love to be among them
No use to criticize or anything to frame
It is not created by destiny alone
This conclusion is far off gone
What can we think of lessening the plight?
We may start with few from the right?
It may not affect the scenerio even slight
It is to be in context of the light
Can we not provide one homeless a cover?
Can we not provide at least drinking water?
This may certainly be the human gesture
I see at the end a lovely and bright future
You may find the satisfaction of unqiue kind
It is not the quantum provided to a simple blind
It may be generous feeling that is appreciably found
See the result when you happen to make a round
Millions may find smile on the face
There won’t be bitterness among the race
The poor may be called poor always
We need tocome out of doorways
Can we not remove that sorrowful state?
Has that come to them out of fate?
Do they deserve no sympathy and only hate?
Rush if you can to their help without getting late
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Oh, almighty
Oh almighty, O ruler of whole universe
I kept on smiling without tears
I heard the blessing coming through ears
Strengthening my belief for coming years
If individual’s perception is taken into account
Then there is lot more to think and count
I am gifted with precious body
Considered most lucky as not to have with anybody
You are always messiah for others
Even if not then try to become and offer
Able and very strong to counter any threat
Kind heart to meet good people and greet
Nice face with glittering eyes
Feeling unhappy with people’s anger and cries
Mind bogs down with human sufferings
Nothing is left with for handful offerings
The heaven is at your feet
Its impact is felt when you meet
The words and holiness spread across
When you raise hands and offer the rose
Flowers offer fragrance with magic spell
You need not to speak at length and tell
The heavenly bodies hang above
You are like star on earth and move
When divine light take refuge in body
It is illuminated with light and felt by everybody
The heaven is down and at your feet
The curses and plight go off when people come and meet
It is not the magic or any kind of hypnotism
It is not related to any faith or merely”ism”
It is powerful thrust generated by noble acts
The kind heart that resides in you as a matter of fact
You have suffered it and endured
You conquered it and not procured
You found the reasonable way to benefit the humanity
You made it known in side you there exists divinity
It would have been wrong on your part to assume it as God
It would have been called treachery or simple fraud
It was not the matter for deceiving others for own interest
It was to be used for complete world for the best
What can be considered better or best?
If that is considered as critical or acid test
The nobility has found its way for very good use
The human body has been used without any abuse
No one can be taken for sure
But his or her acts can assure
They have made right use of what almighty has offered
It is used to large extent for humanity even though differed
The mild heart of the body is as good as steel
It can rob of your all pain and steal
You feel great relief from the burden
When it starts acting noble all of sudden
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Someone's Heart
sounds never heard, words never spoken, eyes that never see, feeling never felt, someone's heart forever melts,
love never returned, passion never givin, pleasure never shown, something someone's heart will never know,
tears always felt, pain always known, sorrow that never goes away, for someone's heart that knows it very well, someone's heart is broken, someone's heart is never missed, someone's heart will mend,
someone's heart will never love again, someone's heart will never trust again and want to love, someone's heart never felt and my heart forever melts.
poem by Sandra Brown Wright
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Ever Pure Is Love!
Love is that great feeling,
no one can deny,
to love is thrilling,
to be loved is more pleasing,
living with heart ever loving,
only wisdom of self remain ever shining!
Every love is felt mortal in company of desires,
Just as immortal self felt mortal,
In company of mortal things,
river that flood during rain,
and drain in summer,
Surely dry some day,
But the river that keeps on flowing full,
Ever pure has origin in melting snow of icy mountains,
Love having origin in heart where snow heap of pure Love melts,
Never can dry,
Never be impure,
Unless polluted by human desires, selfish motives!
When body felt light,
filling more energy in wings,
wisdom gained by experience,
courage in heart make faith
strong,
Look for the Truth alone,
one can soar high, see deep into space to see the
Sun never sets,
the ever flowing river of life as
whole
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Imagery Animal
Poets are imagery animals
Wait for thoughts arrival
Think a lot and then write
Use head more to ignite
Thoughts are burnt
Wish ashes to turn
Into new form to upraise
The status to be up and praised
But normally they are quiet
Allow things to let
Down at low level
With proper time to excel
Now millions come up like flowers
Even without rainy showers
They are product of fast age
Not much to impress with each page
One in million stars is praised
Taken to recognition and believed
Poets are known as star family
Twinkle little in their own capacity
Not all may be able to speak with authority
Some may define imagery love and some may praise almighty
Some may put with all the times to remember and some with variety
It is all about poets tenure and may not be remembered like deity
It is their job to create pure imagination
Sometimes to be painted with correct relation
Not all the incidences pure images
Some ideas are meant to take out souls from the cages
It is reasonable stand to expose
To be known as poet and pose
With whatever capacity and thrust
The poet's position is commendable and is must
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 birth of poet
Has any one thought over?
Almighty has given gift to him or her
How does the ideas emanate from void mind?
Music in action and feelings very kind
The ideas to role out for vicious world
Happiness and joy for all to hold
Can poetry exist without impetus?
The writer can exist by his status
God might have given special third sense
Free flow of thoughts even without being tense
This is how the journey has begun with birth of poet
Love to all in his imagery world and keep quiet
He does nothing special for performance
He certainly weighs facts at once
Leaving all worries for the common cause
Forgetting for self and think what he was?
This is how he has come in to being
World at his feet without being called a king
What makes water to fall in from of raining?
It doesn’t require any guidance or proper training
His heart pains for others agony
H doesn’t work it for gain or money
He has the mighty thoughts to work as key
No slavery in his world and to make all free
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Simple Race
In morning and in evening I pray
Earnestly fall to his feet to show the way
If at all I am doing anything wrong
Virtually with tears and in religious songs
It is the only way to feel guilty
As we are called children of almighty
We are made by him from simple clay
He is the only one to show us with comfortable stay
We are human being and may err
It is neither folly on our part nor error
But a gamble that every individual takes
In quest for obtaining sweet cake
Sin or no sin yet it is great load
Some of the secrets are not to be sold
They are confessed before almighty
With pure heart to regret and feel sorry
He is there with kind heart
To forgive all our sins for new start
We got to assure him of good conduct
This is known to all with simple fact
I shall stay wherever I am
Nothing should bother me or them
He is merciful and our savior
No one is superior or no one is inferior
Let us live as single entity
Prove your worth with nobility
No one takes you for granted
You lead the life as you wanted
Curse or no curse it is your concern
But forget soon when tides turn
Go before him and confess
Life is to be moved on as simple race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Rappers
Rappers flow
With lyrics they curse
Prosper making dollars
By and by they will go
At times for some, meeting death
A turn for the worse
So often
From the dead of night
Till' the dawns early light
Feeling their pain
Ruling their plight
Peace, love and hate
Feelings of desperation
Pierce their souls
Some with truth
Heart felt pain
Some with a war stick
They watch it rain
On stage, another drama
Stories of desperation
Agony
Triumph
Degradation
Bless them
Pray for them
For at times
They too
Need love
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Let people rule
In olden days some specialized people managed war front
They had unique art and presented it to kings very blunt
They were given place in kingdom and adored seat
So many wars were won and it was considered marvelous feat
So is the role open for modern viewers and poets
They can’t remain mute spectator or quiet
It becomes equally important to rise to occasion
Arouse the public opinion and inflame the passion
It is poet's passion that ignites
Compel him to imagine and write
The real values of human life and misery
To remove the sadness and make him merry
Not all might have done same
Yet they have earned and brought the fame
We still miss them at our heart
As it was well beginning and start
The world is sitting on live volcano
Human race seems to be locked with inferno
Where is the way out to offer resistance?
Even though it is left voluntarily to insistence
The revolution has not come all of sudden
It may have lots of sufferings and pain even
It is never dieing out cream for secured future
Someone has to strive hard and make it sure
The news are flashed across globe in no times
It has desirous impact and effects sometimes
Yet people have to undergo lots of sufferings
There is no enough heed to their patience and offerings
I would pray for quick end to their plight
So many have lost their lives in peaceful fight
How come it is that we have to offer blood?
There is enough of misery and shortage of food
Billions are siphoned away and used for luxury
It is adding to their woe, misery and worry
It is high time we harness the poetic skill
Let people rule supreme with powerful will
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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All Lovely Smile
All lovely smiles
Give encouragement meanwhile
Ideas fly from memory file,
Create impact in its own style
That is why it is often advocated
When stress is so much related
Have nice company of good people
They will take you out of trouble
Love and affection are most desired
In any form they are admired
Whether from child, mother or sister
It has capacity to change or alter
You can be in smiles again
Takes off your stress and pain
You are back in game
Happiness to share without feeling shame
No one can deny about such existence
All great leaders and sages lay such insistence
Danger can be pushed away and safety ensured
Peaceful living and harmony fully assured
Whole world can go mad at one smile
Great kingdoms have experienced and walked for miles
Why to talk of hatred when love is in abundance?
It must be given fair trial and tested at once
It has strength and it’s on own sphere
There has to be confidence sans fear
Love can cause no grave injury
It can calm down any amount of fury
Let it flow like river water
You can have anything sought after
See the magnitude in its pull
An ordinary can understand it or even fool
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Ceases to Flow
The course of river ceases to flow
As if smile has worn out and loss of glow
The course lay at standstill
River has lost its way and the will
The river bad has turned arid
As if everything is burnt by use of acid
No life is seen with even slight movement
Waiting for fresh waters to rush at any moment
I hear far cry from night birds
They made no noise was ever heard
The river has brought dead silence
I see it as unusual sign hence
It spells disaster for time to come
Not good sign and hence unwelcome
Not river bank but all streams may go dry
Birds will have to migrate and prepare for long journey to fly
I take it as nature’s curse
Entire blame must go to us of course
The river has altered course or deserted in between
Such situation has never been witnessed or seen
No green grass may grow
No fresh water may now flow
What to speak now of curve paths and falls?
It may be spelled as simple curse for all
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Please Do Not Ask Me How A River Feels
children bathe in the river.
we were children once, we bathe in the river
we float and go with the flow of the river
we lied to mother we were afraid of father
but we were children once and we bathed in the river
we all know how a river felt
throughout our bodies
time runs like a river how many times shall i tell you that
we had mud all over
we were once children we grow to be men
strong arms and swift feet
we caught fish
we claim to be men with responsibilities
we are still children at heart we still feel the rivers running on our skins
i know, i still know how a river feels
time does not know how to kill the feel of rivers
do not ask me then if i have forgotten the river
we are men with responsibilities we have gone away
far from what we are
the river still flows and it will never stop
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Plain
It made you feel plain, when you forgot your name
Let me tell you something I have felt the same
I know you're in pain but be another boy along the way
God He made you beautiful and there's nothing about you that's plain
[chorus]
You are a jewel, You are a treasure
You are one of a kind
And you shine just a bright as the stars in the sky
You're a rare kind of wonder created just right
So keep your head up the matter the pain
'Cause nothing about you that's plain
It's in the you're not boon tight
The kind of girl that they like
And you're a little insecure about how you look in their eyes
The fashion will change, the trends come and go everyday
But God only made one of you and there's nothing about you that's plain
[chorus]
'Cause you are a jewel, You are a treasure
You are one of a kind
And you shine just a bright as the stars in the sky
You're a rare kind of wonder created just right
So keep your head up the matter the pain
'Cause nothing about you that's plain
See your mind, it is precious
Though your heart may be wretchless
And your eyes, they will see all that you're in to be
'Cause your spirit is strong
And your soul carries on
Keep your head up the matter the pain
There's nothing about you that's plain
I have my days when I feel outta place, yeah
I look at who I am, cover what I can
Wish it all it would change
But, take the makeup away so the same girl still remains
She may not feel that beautiful but, there's nothing about her that's plain
[chorus]
You are a jewel, You are a treasure
You are one of a kind
And you shine just a bright as the stars in the sky
You're a rare kind of wonder created just right
So keep your head up the matter the pain (3x)
There's nothing about you that's plain
You may have felt plain
God He knows your name
Let me tell you something, yeah
There's nothing about you that's plain
-----------------------
It's your life
What are you going to do with it?
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This one for Hanque with thanks
All around the world,
poems are talking among themselves
when the books are shut,
when the computers are switched off,
when old-fashioned poets put down
chewed pencils, sucked ballpens,
lips a little stained with the flavour
of ink that’s washable or permanent;
poems talking among themselves
in that language that poems understand,
that poets seek to write;
poems murmuring, complaining,
sometimes shouting desperately,
who are these people who
have dared to speak our language? What
is their right and reason? When
did they arise? Where
did they get their ideas? Why
do they even try? How
do they hope to improve on this? What
is a poet, anyway?
The tumult of their languages,
the babel of upraised voices
speaking, though, with that unutterable
beauty of that sound which can really act,
can change the world of change,
can touch the heart for lifetimes,
melts a heart of stone,
brings tears to eyes needful of tears,
opens clouds to blue sky and to sunlight,
watches angels as they ascend and descend,
speaks of, speaks,
the unknown, formless, eternal, ever present –
the tumult dies down; in the
silence and the stillness,
only the pure sound of sound itself; and
in that sound the absolution:
forgive them, O Muse of Poetry:
they know not what they do..
yet in their hearts, they know
what must be said.
The pain, exquisite;
found worthy; loved.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Poem about Poetry - Writing poetry for poetry's sake
does the waterfall fall
because it wants to be heard, seen?
does the mighty river flow
because it wants to be admired, painted?
does the rainbow arc over the sky
because it wants to listen to a love wish made in its name?
does the moon shine because it wants to be written an ode?
no, no, none cares for even an echo of a response from the world.
so should poet, shouldnt he?
poetry, yes poetry,
should run through him
like the river that pours out to sea
the water that cascades down the waterfall
the rainbow that colours the sky
the moon that subtly crowns, lights up night
without those ego/desire attachments
where buddha appends all human sufferings
real poetry runs from that part of our soul, world
that is a part of everybody's world
like the river, waterfall, rainbow and moon
admiration, if any, goes back to nature
where the poets belong
real poets as homo sapiens dont crave for them.
they are not instruments made for such low ideals
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Dead And Gone
In years from now when I am dead and gone
Will people read the words that I had wrote
If they do will they agree with what they read
And if so truly, understand the feelings I had spoke.
Will they feel the pain and suffering that I felt
In the many days of my own life
Maybe they will etch my feelings inside their soul
And If so, I wonder for me if they will cry.
I wonder if anyone will go into a deep thought
After reading the words that I had spoke
And then will they think and understand that feeling too
While inside their soul or heart a memory I will had awoke.
Maybe they will be with me in those lonesome nights
When my soul and I felt so very alone
When I couldn't sleep so I had to write
While my soul stayed stationary, but my mind it did roam.
And will they feel the pain that I did feel
With every line that I suffered as I did write
Will they shed a tear that my lover never shed for me
While she was always in my heart and in my sight.
And when they finish my book and close it shut
Will they reflect my feelings as they walk away
Will they say they know the pain that I have felt
As they too had felt it in their very own days.
Will they cry the tears that was never cried for me
As they go searching for my last resting place
To give the sympathy they might say I deserve
While trying to visualize my soul through my face.
If they look and find and then walk unto my grave
I wander for me if i will receive long forgotten grieving
Telling me how sad and the pity they hold for me
After reading my words, maybe they will start believing.
And maybe they will walk to the graves of the others
The ones who did me wrong and who sealed my fate
Who made me the poet whom I had to become
Will they tell them their souls, and living they do hate.
So as I finish writing with these last few thoughts
I hope forever my words and feelings will continue on
As I know I am not alone and my pain is not fastened to me
But really who will know, until I am dead and gone.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A Treasure Box
So soon this time
melts away
like you;
my common sense
sometimes
leaves me too
like you.
Often I am blind
and cannot see
the You before me;
many times I need
help to see
desperately
from you.
I lay down with you
to make peace
but cannot speak
the words;
I want to say I love you
but can only buy a present
which only signals how I feel
but is not what I feel.
Chocolates are not
a human heart.
Many times I want to reach
out you
but feel I cannot spare the hug
you need.
I'm always on the edge of hesitancy
feeling I cannot spare the Me
locked away in my small
meager
treasure box.
Nary a coin there
I feel
can leave,
and I guard even small
leavings
jealously.
The wonder is
I think,
such meager treasure box pickings
I have,
I think
I have to protect;
because it is always closed
it does not easily release
scarce
feeling coin;
but then again
it is never open
to receive
new coins,
bequeathed.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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