Reading my poems
I've always written what was on my mind,
spewing stories of that moment in time.
Each word written,
was painful and enlightening.
My truth,
frightening! !
As I cry through every poem,
about me...
wanting to roam,
there is something I have to say,
no matter what I do,
I'm okay.
I have my faith,
my morals to get me through.
I see that I'm sinking,
my pity has got the best of me,
therefore...
until I fix what I'm truly thinking,
I will never be free.
Not a man...
although easy to blame,
what is wrong,
is me!
Related quotes
The Elaborate Hoax
The Elaborate Hoax
Written by Wilfred Mellers, Saturday, February 12,2011, @ 12: 05 PM
What if everything you were told was a lie
Would you just lie down and die?
Would you cease to try?
Would you even question why?
Would faith still render all your decisions?
Would there still be religious divisions?
What if trusted beliefs were just works of fiction
Sacred words were an elaborate misconception
Fables taken from other stories
Would you still sing of morning glories?
Would societies morals decay?
Would Sunday be another Monday?
What if there was proof that you are wrong?
Would you refuse and still go along?
What the fool truly believes
Concepts bold he cannot conceive
The deceived follows the blind
Far too scared to be left behind
The hoax convoluted by designed
A contract written but never signed
Words your life was defined
Does this blow your diminutive mind?
Instituted mind control
Paid in full sitting on a bankroll
There is nothing here meant to be funny
It is truly all about money
So easy one can be jaded
Pacify the sheep and for they are easily persuaded
If there is no heaven then how can there be a hell
More fallacies and tales to tell
Foul play uncovered by the sleuth
People don’t want to know the truth
Answer when you are called and do as you were told
Meanwhile the theocracy empties your billfold
Wisdom and knowledge are on parole
Watch the fabrications run up the flagpole
You say I am lacking in faith
Consumed by an unholy wraith
Only the hoodwinked closes their eyes
You can go on and believe all those lies
Stories written ages ago
Just because you wrote it doesn’t make it so
Let the dead bury the dead
In the sand you have already burred your head
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written
THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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Can A Poem Be Written
CAN A POEM BE WRITTEN
Can a Poem be written
In Anger Frustration Fear Disappointment?
Can it be written
In Failure?
Can a Poem be written
When no light shines
And the middle of the night is longer
Than life itself?
Can a Poem be written now
When old afraid sad angry foolish failure me
Cannot even dream?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Have Not Written A Poem For Days
I HAVE NOT WRITTEN A POEM FOR DAYS
I have not written a poem for days
For days I have not written a poem-
And my heart and my soul
My whole being
Longs for a poem.
But is this a poem?
Or am I nothing
But an unending babbler?
A word- struck fool?
A maniac in endless search of meaning?
While all around me,
This sunlit winter green Jerusalem Beauty,
I cannot say -
And as I stop to write,
Do not even now behold.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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for Tem on his last day
THE WORLD does not weep
for a quitter, no matter what
no matter how deep is your sorrow
no matter how justifying the circumstances
precipitating inside that cup of poison,
another poem is written for you
a sympathizer from another country
perhaps suffering too
like you
or us, but it will be only for a short while,
after the last word is written and read
the world moves again, spins upon itself
to complete another revolution,
nothing is achieved much, time does not tell,
but the motion keeps on moving
like a spiral, like a steep stair moving up
only to arrive at an empty room,
i believe in something else,
that someone is waiting out there
i guess, you are right, the end is reasonable,
but the means will always be questioned.
i hope you still have time to read the poem of Mike
i guess, sincerity lies there,
i still shiver about an old age that could not wait
for more time.
at the end, who knows? but you cannot tell. You are silent
as cement.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem Is Restless In Me
THE POEM IS RESTLESS IN ME
The poem is restless in me-
It waits to be heard-
Now that it comes
It does not feel especially happy about itself.
It knows it is not real-
It is not much-
Just because it is called a poem by me
Does not make it a poem -
The mind has its own place-
My mind also -
I am always thinking poems are with me,
And poems waiting to come-
But who am I and what do I know?
These lines are written in the still of the morning
When the light outside still brings hope
That a new day is possible.
But so many poems have been written in the early morning
And I am so old from hearing them said to me by myself-
And what does it all mean anyway in the end when God is the Only One?
And who am I to know what God is, or invoke the name of God
In such a small thing as my own poetry?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Pathological Liars
Pathological liars
are 'Legends In Their Own Mind'
well I make them into evil characters
all the time.
I don't even have to come up with a plot
pathological liars give me all they got.
They all think they are so charming and smart
they usually state this right from the start.
They usually say you are nuts
when really deep down they have no guts.
They hide from the truth—
and blame it on you
making you believe their lies-
even when they are totally ridiculous
like 'I was in the shower-that's why
I didn't come to your side'.
They make you out the guilty one-
for now you ruined all their fun.
when it's like 'who really cares—
I make my Stories more with a flair
Like game Truth or Dare...
Truth, Dare, Promise or Repeat…
it was a fun childhood game
we could tell secrets and not be discreet.
But now all your stories
are recorded in rhyme-
making interesting poem
come to life.
Written by Christina Sunrise on June 27,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Poem Tired Of Being Written Of Itself
THE POEM TIRED OF BEING WRITTEN OF ITSELF
The poem tired of being written of itself
It wanted other worlds and more distant beauty
It wanted the inspiration that ordinary life gives
It wanted too a language beyond what simple words could mean
But the poem could not be more than it was
It fell back upon itself
It was lost in its own lonely being
The poem stayed forever a poem about itself
And when no one read it
The poem had only itself to blame.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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What Poem Can Be Written/To Break The Silence Of Infinite Sadness?
WHAT POEM CAN BE WRITTEN/ TO BREAK THE SILENCE OF INFINITE SADNESS
What poem can be written
To break the silence of infinite sadness?
An infinite poem?
A sad Poem?
A poem that knows no one’s name
Including my own?
A poem that comes suddenly
Like the freshness of these winter breezes
And sweeps the mind free
Into a new world
Of Light and Dreams
So cold?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem- Tell Me This Is A Poem
A POEM/ TELL ME THIS IS A POEM
A Poem-
Tell me this is a poem-
Tell me I have written a poem
Tell me my life has meaning-
Tell me I am alright-
Tell me a life has meaning
Because a poem has been written in it.
Tell me it’s alright
Tell me this is a poem
Let me be -
Please let me be free
Free of all this anxiety and pain and doubt and fear.
Poem or no poem
Leave me alone
I just want be free
Free of all this anxiety.
Is this a poem or not?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is Nothing Wrong In Wanting
It is easy to pick up and leave,
For...
Those places envisioned in one's mind,
That are traveled and far away.
So they will have a space to go...
To wallow there,
In the comfort of their sorrows.
It is easy to pick up and leave,
For...
A tomorrow out of reach.
To perceive a destiny is to chase rainbows.
Carrying with them an emptiness,
That always seem to follow!
There is nothing wrong,
In wishing for the consistency of Sunshine.
There is nothing wrong in wanting,
To be showered with gold dust all the time.
There is nothing wrong,
In avoiding clouds with hopes none will come.
There is nothing wrong in wanting a life,
With a humming forever done!
There is nothing wrong to live those dreams,
In a wishful thinking of them to be...
Continually received.
It is easy to pick up and leave,
For...
Those places envisioned in one's mind,
That are traveled and far away.
There is nothing wrong in wanting a life,
With a humming forever done!
There is nothing wrong,
In avoiding clouds with hopes none will ever come.
And yet they do.
And many refuse...
To stop and accept what is done.
Preferring they do instead for them,
Is a life that is on the run.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Poem Should Not Be Written-When One Is Waiting For A Bus
A POEM SHOULD NOT BE WRITTEN-WHEN ONE IS WAITING FOR A BUS
A poem should not be written
When one is waiting for a bus
And simply trying to pass the time.
It should be written in solitude
After deep reflection
Ripeness as all
The falling fruit-
But this poem
Knows no ‘should’-
Knows only the long desperation
Of the happy holiday day-
Writing the words down quietly-
As if anything and everything I have to say
Is really
The poem I have religiously long waited for.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Life Art
Life Art
I want to write you a poem.
One that contains no verses
no words
how long it will be
I cannot tell.
It will be a poem that you can see through
yet it will shade you from the sun
a simple lyric
as complex as a crossword
I want it to be something
that you carry through your day
every day
I don’t know if I can write that poem
Or if indeed that poem can be written at all
So instead I am with you
Of you
And slowly together
we are writing our very own poem
Not on a page
Or in a lost notebook
But in the café
and in the street
At a table
In our bed
Every day we add another line
another image
another verse
and I know that with every word that we write
I want it to be the longest poem
That has ever been written.
poem by Andy Houlihan
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Nothing..
This poem is not about love..
This poem is not about pain..
This poem is not about the things i have learned...
This poem is not for the broken hearted..
This poem is not for the ones seeking help..
This poem is not for the depressed...
This poem is for no one,
Because no one can contain nothing...
This poem is not filled with wisdom..
This poem was not written with love...
This poem was not written for a lover nor a brother...
This poem was nothing special...
Not quite remarkable....
But it is nothing because that what it was...
Nothing and it will never be anything...
poem by Jenna Marie
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The Story Of Life
The story of jesus
So easy to explain
After they crucified him,
A woman, she claimed his name
The story of jesus
The whole Bible knows
Went all across the desert
And in the middle, he found a rose
There should be no questions
There should be no lies
He was married ever happily after
All the tears we cry
No use in arguing
All the use to the man that moans
When each man falls in battle
His soul it has to roam
Angles of heaven
Flying saucers to some,
Made easter sunday
The name of the rising sun
The story is written
By so many people who dared,
To lay down the truth
To so very many who cared
To carry the cross
Of jesus and beyond
We will guide the light
This time with a woman in our arms
We as men
Cant explain the reason why
The womans always mentioned
At the moment that we die
All we know
Is God is by our side,
And he says the word
So easy yet so hard
I wish not to be alone,
So I must respect my other heart
Oh, the story
Of jesus is the story
Of you and me
No use in feeling lonely,
I am searching to be free
The story
Of life is quicker
Than the wink of an eye
The story of love
Is hello and goodbye
Until we meet again
song performed by by Jimi Hendrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Can Be Written Too Early
A POEM CAN BE WRITTEN SO EARLY
A poem can be written so early
That even the morning light
Won’t see it.
A poem can be written too soon.
A poem can be written before it exists
And so never be
Despite the fact that it is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Poem Should Have Been Written Long Ago By Someone Else
This poem should have been written long ago by someone else
They should have said what needs to be said
Clearly and yet beautifully
They should have known what to do with their words and their intimations -
But instead I old I tired old I I with the I I I always I’ing
Have to write it again-
This poem should have been written by someone else
The way I was when I was young
But even then probably it should have been written by someone else
Younger happier stronger wiser more courageous able to give and inspire others to love life more and make it more good and more beautiful
A real poet a great poet should have written this poem
And then it would be one
Even I would try not to forget.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Take a word and wrap a poem around it
Take a word and…
Wrap a poem around it
Take a precious phrase
And weave it within
Take profound prose
And allow it to abound in it
Take pride in what you’ve written
And what you’ve written…Will be read
again and again
What better legacy could one leave
Than words that last forever
Just Take a word
and wrap a poem around
And you’ll be forgotten….
never
poem by David Whalen
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The Last Poem Was Written Again And Again
THE LAST POEM WAS WRITTEN AGAIN AND AGAIN
The last poem was written again and again
It said ‘All the poems have been written. There is no new poem to write.’
Writing it again now
I wonder how I dare demand the attention
Of any possible reader.
Aren’t they all as fed up with me
As I sometimes am with myself?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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