Paper Has Beauty
Paper is beauty
If you look with
Your heart
Your mind
Writings mingling
Letters and lines
Grinding pencils
To faceless parchment
Allowing yourself
Your soul
Your expressions
Come and go
Or anything for your eyes
Placed on a page
Mystery, riddle, Puzzle
And paint
Many Methods
Use to guide
For almost as great as writing...
Is having
A reader
Opened minded
Not of the ignorant
or unrefined
The lines are wide
Immagery there defined
Satisfy,
Justify,
Enterain,
Amuse,
Impress those you love
For writers use it above.
For Flowers
Fragrant and fragle
In burning sun
Blowing wind
Pouring rain
Earthly pain
The freedoms here
Are yours to see
Acceptance may it be.
poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Paper Rose
Each time pen and line
brush the page
it is with you in mind;
all these years
you've been
reader to my writer-
you and I
giving life
to what starts as
mere blank pages-
and end as
our shared experience.
I can feel you;
hear you breathing
and lay
down each
night
renewed
for you have
read
between my lines
written and
I
received
your resonances
come back
to my ear-
these reciprocities
tracking
the journey
we each
together
have taken-
our lines entwining.
No greater bond
than the bond
of reader and that written;
no love more timeless
than that shared
in the missive
shaped
by two
interchanging
in this journey
through
life's space.
No gratitude greater
than mine.
Capture here then
to be clear
the
paper rose
this writing
is
because
its lines form
a rose
which will
last
down the years
forever read
forever written.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Lifted From Descriptive Restrictions
What is this thing called poetry?
Is it depictions...
Of vignettes connected.
Bridged between something said profound.
Recited as a sonnet...
With emotions sat upon it.
Exciting enough to be passed around?
Many try to describe poetry,
With an intellect approach...
Hoping to dull
Diverse interpretations,
With meters, tempo, rhyme
And lines counted!
Learned by rote and blurted.
Regurgitated from memory!
Can true poetry be defined without rhyme?
Can thoughts unconnected but colorized,
And flavored to moisten
Be the choice...
Of those who prefer their poetry moist?
Even though uncomprehending,
The meaning or intention of clues planted.
Seeded by the writer
Delighted to tease with mystery, sex
Or emotional pain aimed at the reader!
Can true poetry be defined,
As heartfelt expressions
Written to describe what then
Is in one's mind.
And who is to say there is a correct way
To reveal what one has to say with or without rhyme.
When those times come to pour a flow
That arrives and awaits the rush.
And thrusting that wish to be expressed as is!
What is this?
That has to find,
Poetic lines.
Requested or not!
When all it wants to do,
Is be delivered for what it is!
Searching for an accepted way...
In a style one owns,
Like none other conveys...
And lifted from descriptive restrictions,
To expand the demands of understanding!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Most Writers
Most writers 'twould seem have moments of self doubt
But they never go short of things to write about
And to become a top writer of one a big ask
And to succeed as a writer for many seems too daunting a task.
Most writers do not write for wealth or for fame
And despite lack of success they pen on just the same
For every one hundred thousand writers perhaps one writing millionaire
Amongst the ranks of the wealthy the writers are rare.
Few writers can hope for to scale success height
For the love of writing they only do write
Few writers get published and fewer know of success
But in their writings on paper their thoughts they express.
Most writers will never know wealth and renown
And they are not even well known in their own Hometown
They never will be known beyond their home shore
They write for the love of it and little more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Words on paper
Words on paper
~
Just words on paper
Where a story is told
An emotion revealed
Or a love laid to rest
Where a dream begins
An ambition is spoken
Perhaps a whim of fancy
Takes charge of the pen
To write what is written
Letters forming words
Shapley and beautiful
Expressions of a soul
Or a mind at play
There across the page
Words on paper
Written to have their say
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Valentine
For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet's, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Faces
I cant read faces but i can read yours;
I know it when youre sad or happy,
not through your smile but through your eyes;
and the lines of your forehead,
and the lines of your cheeks...
they tell your secrets and then mystery unfolds.
The beauty of your chin...and the lines of your lips,
they tell me of something that hasn't been told.
Sometimes you laugh, but you're empty inside...
sometimes you frown, but your heart glowed with pride.
Sometimes serious, but your face
has something to hide.
I know coz your eyes tell me everything,
everything within your soul.
You have so many faces...
and i wonder if the world knows.
I wonder if they can read them,
or see what you conceal..
I wonder if they can see your mysteries...
secrets to steal.
And i wonder if they can look into
your eyes like open doors.
I know i cant read faces...
but i can read yours.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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And So I'm Writing...
I'm hard-pressed for time,
yet I do have the heart
And so I'm writing
Know not what to pen down,
have a paper to write on
And so I'm writing
May be I'll write about 'you and me'
Or may be of 'us and them'
Feel like playing with words
And so I'm writing
May be that starving beggar's hungry looks
Or that homeless Child's beckoning eyes
Are making me scribble these lines to you
And so I'm writing
May be you'll find my words vague
Or you might decipher a meaning
Intend to leave you in the oblivion
And so I'm writing
Whatever might be the impression I create
Wish to see its reflection on your soul
And leave an imprint on your mind
And so I'm writing
May be you and I've become immune
To the pathos of mankind
Or may be there's still
A dropp of humanity flowing deep within us
Wish to arouse 'The Human Being' in you
And so I'm writing...
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Red Rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
I am standing up at the waters edge in my dream
I cannot make a single sound as you scream
It cant be that cold, the ground is still warm to touch
This place is so quiet, sensing that storm
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Well Ive seen them buried in a sheltered place in this town
They tell you that this rain can sting, and look down
There is no blood around see no sign of pain
Hay ay ay no pain
Seeing no red at all, see no rain
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
Red rain-
Putting the pressure on much harder now
To return again and again
Just let the red rain splash you
Let the rain fall on your skin
I come to you defences down
With the trust of a child
Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me
And I cant watch any more
No more denial
Its so hard to lay down in all of this
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
I see it
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is pouring down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im bathing in it
Red rain coming down
Red rain is coming down
Red rain is coming down all over me
Im begging you
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Red rain coming down
Over me in the red red sea
Over me
Over me
Red rain
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monkey In The Moon
Once I was so sure, once I was so blind
Wonder what you said if you read my mind
Angel in a car, devil on a cross
Scarecrows in the fields, jesus on the rocks
Letters in the rain. rabbit on the run
God was made for you, lizards for the sun
Monkey in the moon, I can see you through
Monkey in the moon, this ones made for you
( message understood? )
Flower in a word, words without a priest
Wings without a bird, beauty without beast
Signal overkill, trains are overdue
Fool upon a hill, ocean overview
Letters in the rain. . .
Fool upon a hill, trains are overdue
Except what we forgot nothings really new
Head above the clouds, eyes are opened wide
Windmill burning down, walk into the light
Walk into the light
Monkey in the moon...
Letters in the rain
This ones made for you
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And then the paper is dirty
You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,
You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.
You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.
I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful
Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.
Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let It Rain!
Rain! Rain!
Let it rain!
Let the rain wash away the pain.
Furious thunder,
Roaring across the sky.
Releasing her anger,
That was kept inside.
Rain! Rain!
Let it rain!
Let the rain wash off the stain.
Heavy raindrops,
Pouring down to the ground.
Expressing her sorrows,
That was held inside
Rain! Rain!
Let it rain!
Let the nature heal the pain.
Violent wind,
Blowing out of control.
Exerting her power,
That was once withheld.
Rain! Rain!
Let it rain!
Soon there will be no more pain.
Chapter And Verse
I got the dictionary in my hand
But I can't seem to find the word I'm looking for
I've checked every letter, now I'm up to Z
There just ain't anymore
I've got a million choices in my head
If I could only chose the one that says it best
I shelled out a quarter for a greeting card
Now I can't seem to get my pen to do the rest
But I know it all by heart, chapter and verse
I'll quote you any part, every word
But it's so deep inside it can't be heard
I've got the Sunday paper in my hand
And I've been working on the weekly cryptogram
I know there's a message in between the lines
That's the same way I am
I got the crossword puzzle half complete
But now I need another word four letters long
It's just like the way I want a perfect fit
I can settle for less but all of them are wrong
There could be no jealousy over my poetry
It's my weakest quality, no vocabulary
I got the scrabble letters in a pile
But there could never be enough to say it all
I know you don't wanna hear the same old line
So you'll just have the read the writing on the wall
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Author's Inspiration
My fingers do not type the words on the page; they do not draw delusions on a thin piece of white lined paper. They are not meant for the works of art to be used and unworthy for. My fingers are worthy enough to paint pictures inside your cognizance, more than painting a paintless sheet that means nothing to me. My fingers work as if every picture I paint in my mind, inspires them to write the unwritten page, to make it a master piece. But not every inspiration inside my mind, will take merely a second to create. It takes time, patience, and art to smear the writings onto a page. Author inspiration is from what comes from the heart; deep and dark, inspring and light - it's as if it was left inside its cage. No freedom, no light, no darkness, no being of a creature that the render of the paper, simply gave up on inspiring the little ones'. It's as if this mere creature was left within a white blank world. No colors to paint, no words to express. An author inspiration is formed when they see or hear other works of art, whether it's music to their ears, movies they wish to be in, life and feelings that they feel or positioned in, or other writings that they write something else about - but as an inspiration from them. An inspiration can be from anything from the outside world, from what happens inside one's life, to what creates such imagination within one's thoughts that coats the page with color and creativity. Anyone can be talented. Anyone can have an inspiration. You just have to feel and be it.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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I Have Given My Life To Writing
I HAVE GIVEN MY LIFE TO WRITING
I have given my life to writing
And forgotten almost all of it
Why should others remember
What I do not?
Lines of great beauty are rare
And poets of greatness more so
Why remember my little lines
When billions beat on forever emptily?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Chapter & Verse
I got the dictionary in my hand
But I cant seem to find the word Im looking for
Ive checked every letter, now Im up to z
There just aint anymore
Ive got a million choices in my head
If I could only chose the one that says it best
I shelled out a quarter for a greeting card
Now I cant seem to get my pen to do the rest
But I know it all by heart, chapter and verse
Ill quote you any part, every word
But its so deep inside it cant be heard
Ive got the sunday paper in my hand
And Ive been working on the weekly cryptogram
I know theres a message in between the lines
Thats the same way I am
I got the crossword puzzle half complete
But now I need another word four letters long
Its just like the way I want a perfect fit
I can settle for less but all of them are wrong
There could be no jealousy over my poetry
Its my weakest quality, no vocabulary
I got the scrabble letters in a pile
But there could never be enough to say it all
I know you dont wanna hear the same old line
So youll just have the read the writing on the wall
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Perfect Poem
Fledgling poets often make a wide variety of mistakes,
And it’s nice to have these brought to your attention.
People enjoy writing poetry, as at the end of the day,
They end up, with a product of their own invention.
If you’re writing a poem to enter into a competition,
Don’t be tempted to use coloured ink or fancy fonts;
Along with the use of images, they detract from the poem,
And this is not what any reader, especially a judge, wants.
The title of your masterpiece is very important indeed;
It needs to really grab the reader’s eye and attention.
People don’t always realise how important a catchy title is,
But, it is a valid point which really is worth a mention.
The body of text, needs to be broken into bite size verses,
So as it’s attractive to the reader’s roving and selective eye.
If a poem looks forbidding, and uninviting on the printed page,
Many a reader is likely to just gloss over it, and pass it on by.
The wording of a poem should sound as natural as can be:
Phrases shouldn’t be inverted in order to satisfy a rhyme.
The use of inversion is not considered to be skilful writing,
But, it is used by many writers of poetry, time after time.
The lines of a poem, especially those ones which rhyme,
Give or take a syllable, should be roughly of equal length.
If a poem has a really good strong, rhythmic pulse to it,
It really does give it so much more balance and strength.
Readers are much less likely to choose to read a poem,
If it is really confusing, or if it is just weirdly obscure.
Too many ideas and themes packed into one piece alone,
Is another problem which readers hate to have to endure.
You shouldn’t tell the reader too much or too little –
It needs to be just the right amount of information.
They need the chance to find their own way into a poem,
Leaving room for their own imagination, and interpretation.
Certain subjects are covered time and time again,
And so there’s not really anything very new to say;
If you do choose to write about a popular subject,
You need to present it in a totally fresh and new way.
If you follow the above useful advice and guidelines,
Your chances of winning a competition should increase.
Correct any spelling and grammatical errors you may have,
Then, you should end up with pretty much the perfect piece.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Write A Few Lines
IF I WRITE A FEW LINES
If I write a few lines
My mind will open
My heart will take heart
I will begin to believe in myself again.
If I write a few lines
I will say that I still somewhere am alive,
Writing these lines
In such deep deep sadness and trouble,
I try
And word by word
Squeeze out a bit of Hope.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Every Walk Of Life
From every walk of life
One a child just wanting to play games
And making funny faces to make everyone laugh
One a young adult maybe of 20
Showing her beauty to the world
With every stride of her black high heals
One a gentlemen writing of his charismatic ways
Passing the miracle of poetry on to
Anyone his words color the taste of
a magician which he surly is
The other a bit more aged and
Seasoned within life’s steak
Trying to teach the children even at
The bottom of her pool of life
That without an education you are nothing
Will be noting and can be nothing
Not only in her eyes but nor in any one else’s
Each telling a story within their unique way
Maybe in the innocent smile he brings to your face
The drawings of chalk that will just be erased in the rain
Maybe in the way she walks along the path of ambition
The gliding motion that clicks with every impulse
To have all the world desires her to have
But knows she has only what she has
Her black high heals
Or maybe in the writing of an unselfish poet
That writes for his many readers not for himself
And the filtering needs of his overflowing mind
And maybe even someone that shows us in a very different way
Within the lines on her face
The stories we long to hear that she tells
Each giving something to the world
One his future so brightly lit
With fresh colors of innocents
But only a dimmed light shows the path he will take
One with her black high heals to guide her
Gives only the flicker of an eyelash to the world
With an empty mind and careless soul she tells no story of wisdom
Another his words of wisdom and self assurance
Float onto the golden paper to welcome his wand of mystery
He shows you are more then what everyone sees in you
You are his reader and without you he would just be a man
With every walk of life there is
A beginning and an end
A start and a finish
A story to tell and one to listen to
Something to give and something to take
The proof is within the wrinkles of an old woman’s face
Because every walk of life has
A start to start and a finish to finish
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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