My Mind Always Turning
My mind is like a jet,
ideas I have, hidden away,
not thought of yet.
My mind keeps going, going, fast as a train,
only at rest stops, do I wait
my thoughts, are simple and plain,
of poetry, do I love
sitting down at my desk,
floating along, like a dove
to survive, and to live,
the words shall flow
and to the world, I will give
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The Written Word Rules!
At the idea of poetry, some people seem to scoff,
As they consider it is an art form only for toffs.
They may think that the concept of poetry is boring,
And that it will leave them fast asleep and snoring.
There are all types of poems: modern and classical.
There’s something for everyone: it’s not boring at all.
The lyrics of songs are poems as such;
They often rhyme together very much.
People like to sing along with their favourite songs,
So why does the concept of poetry feel so wrong?
I’ve only started writing poetry in the last few weeks,
And, I have to admit that I thought it was just for geeks.
But, now I can see, that whoever you are,
Everyone has the potential to go really far.
I have to admit, I much prefer
The written, to the spoken word.
At night, I lay awake tossing and turning in bed,
With random thoughts running through my head.
By my pillow, I keep a pen and note pad,
To jot down any thoughts, which I’ve had.
At the top of the page, my thoughts I jot,
And I always plan out a really rough plot.
I like to include words which have a nice ring.
Words, like these, into my poetry, I like to bring.
I continually go through the alphabet time after time,
Searching for useful words which, pretty much, rhyme.
In simple terms, my ideas, I always like to express;
Complicated and fancy words, my mind doesn’t posses.
I’m sat here, writing this poem, on a speeding train,
As thought after thought, floods into my brain.
I’m writing notes on a mini pocket timetable,
In any tiny blank space which is available.
In my handbag, I’ve got no pad, but I’ve got a pen;
My scribbled notes, I just hope I can comprehend.
I really must start carrying a notepad everywhere;
To forget all these thoughts I’ve had, I couldn’t bear.
When I’m thinking of ideas, I just can’t relax;
My mind seems to buzz to the absolute max.
I’m not far now from my final destination,
And the train is due to pull into the station.
On this subject, there’s not much more to be said,
So, I’m now putting this poem well and truly to bed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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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1. One
I am trying to find my poetic rhythm.
Pen my flow of thoughts.
Words running through my mind,
Ideas running through my mind.
Incoherent, Scattered and disjointed
I am trying to make words and ideas one
Create a world of words, in this world of chaos
Words running from one end
Ideas running from one end
On a path of collision
Ideas and words unite, one
One, the beginning
One, the universal beginning
One, the number of the gods
One, my first poem
poem by Anand Dixit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Mumbling This Is Rambling
do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.
this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,
or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.
someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.
or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.
this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face. That is the best way to speak.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Silent Conversation With Myself
do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.
this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,
or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.
someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.
or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.
this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face.
That is the best way to speak.
This is what is life is all about.
Speechless. Alone always.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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400th Mark
Completion of 400th poem was not great feat or mark
Many new ideas flashed in mind and worked as spark
Raising voice at roof top doesn’t make it worth while
No one will share ideas or walk with you for a mile
Over year and half ago I was virtually nothing
Only vague ideas of verses to translate as something
There was hidden fear that readers may reject
Still presentation of new ideas was only object
Nature was appealing when I went round
Something new was in offing and always found
Bird’s sweet voice and cool breeze were appealing
Mind was set up on it with earnest effort for revealing
It was so difficult to go in for poetic words
Sought the strength and blessings from the lord
World at large seemed so big and enterprising
Nothing could stop me from little writing
“Go to hell” or “never dare to call again”
Funny comments with abusive words main
I detested the weapon with its sharp edge
My be I lacked enough skill or knowledge
Many offered me with their kind comments
Advised to stand fast and not to lament
How can I be ungrateful to their advices?
I had to offer gratitude and only promises
Some one commented I was killing poems
Had no teeth, wisdom and lacked rhythms
I sincerely thanked them to improve upon
To write simple poems and simply carry on
New people, thoughts with old or new readers
They were by no means less than leaders
I was novice and had to act as learners
To gain and part with is the reality for beginners
I have followed simple theme and plot
It may not be up to mark or falling short
I may try to uphold values and ideas defend
Will not stoop so below to alienate or offend
How poetry does impresses up on mind?
What type of lessons or new things we find?
Poetry, I thought is the holiest approach among all
I enjoy its fruit when sit back and recall
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After All Hymn
After all I am human
And I get mad sometimes
Sometimes it is hard for me to think of something else in
Order to get rid of my anger
But I think I have to replace it with poetry
Poetry is my life
And I live writing poetry
Is poetry just a scribbling that doesn't make sense?
No
Poetry are feelings that are wrtten on a piece of paper or in the computer Scream
Poetry makes sense because every word I carefully select
And there are other words that might pop out of my mind
That I connect with the words in my heart
Do I use strong words in my poetry?
Yes I use strong words
Do I offend my readers with the words I pick?
That Is something that I try not to do
AAafter all
I am human and I do make mistakes
But after I make mistakes I try to move to the next step so I never get Stuck with my mistake
Yes poetry is my voice that is a message that I am trying hard to give to My readers
There are so many different styles of poetry
Haiku, rhiming, and free style
But I always stick with the free style of poetry
I find that it is the style that sooths me just fine
After all
I try very hard to live a modest life that is very plain and simple
From the one I lived 16 years ago
What is wrong to live a life of luxury to me?
First I need to have the money to live a luxurious life
The second part is that I don't want anything to do with a luxurious life
Because I am happy living my simple life
And I hope to live that simple life forever
I want to have dreams only and I don't wish them to turn into reality in My Life
Because I know that my dreams will be dreams
No I can't sell my dreams
Because my dreams are only fantasies that I face every night when I sleep In my bed
And after all I will always be human
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fast Train
Written by: myles goodwyn
I read the colors this mornin
I read the colors today
About a man who left from nowhere to be someone
And every day he has to pay in every way
I met a man from new york city
He spoke of things Ive yet to find
A good man driven from his homeland
Tryin to find some piece of mind
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
Its a fast train
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A need to do
What do I need in life|?
A beautiful wife,
No fight with swords or knife
Peaceful co existence
No more insistence
Lively presence
True essence
Why can’t I have it?
Unnecessary dog fight in mind
No sympathy or good words of any kind
No love or attachment suitably finds
Suspicious mind with sick ideas
Unnecessary arguments and pleas
Simple unrest and …………..
Love to live with present
Superficial ideas always absent
Feet firmly placed on the ground
Congenial atmosphere always found
No to hatred and yes to fine gesture
Not to live in fast but look at future
How do I overcome?
No to worries and happy welcome
Peace at heart and stable mind
Simple march in direction of wind
No confrontation and compromising trend
Not to aggravate and ways to mend
No enemies but find good friends
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry In The Closets
Poetry in the closets,
words are all stuffed away,
Open the closet door once more
so the words can say
'Listen friend and catch the thoughts
and make them come to bear.
Don't leave them where they can't be heard
for poetry takes you where
you fall in love with words again
like no prose itself can do.'
It opens your mind to brand new ideas
and then when you're through
you'll say
'Poetry in the closets
come out where you belong.
Take your proper place once more
beside each touching song.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fast Train
Transcribed from a live performance on february 26, 2000 at the barbican in york, england. the first performance of this new song.
When you been on a fast train
And its goin off the rails
And you cant come back together again
You just start breakin down
In the pourin rain
Cause you been on a fast train
When your love has gone away
Dont it make you feel so sad
And you know Im returnin
Way into the land
And you start breakin down
And go into the pain
Cause you been on the fast train
You had to go on the lam
Cross into no mans land
Aint nobody here on your wavelength
And nobody gonna give you a helpin hand
You just start breakin down
And just go into the sun
When you hear that fast train
And you keep movin along
To the sound of the wheels
Deep inside your heart you really know
You know just how it feels
And you start breakin down
And the deserts reign on the fast train
Youre way over the line
This time youre out of your mind
This time youre out of your depth
And to the window you crack open
Oh but theres nowhere to go
Theres only sleet and theres snow
Keep on movin on a fast train
You hear theyre goin over the line
Oh standin on the edge of the hill
Oh nobody on their wavelength
Nobody to give you a helping hand
And you start breakin down
When you hear the sound
Keep on movin on a fast train
Im goin nowhere on a fast train
Goin nowhere
Goin nowhere on a fast train
Goin nowhere on a fast train
Fast train
Going nowhere
Goin nowhere on a fast train
To the wasteland
To the wasteland
On a fast train
On a fast train
On a fast train
Im goin nowhere
Im goin nowhere on a fast train
Goin nowhere
On a fast train
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart Of Poetry
The mystery of words wisdom of the heart to each
angelic form, the voice of emotion in verse.
The melody of heart speak in words that feels the
emotion to express the deepness of feeling in the mind.
Thoughts of words flow to the emotion to make meaning,
to the essence that moves, sensitivity inside emotion
through the words.
Intellect of mind with the knowledge of experience power of
wisdom transcend to composition to unlock the perfect will of
words justify hidden truth.
The magnificent power compose words gives roots
blossom to the garden of heart and bring fruits to the heart of men.
Love kind words are power to win oneself to transform the
beauty of inside emotion to one particular individual.
The poetry, words of wisdom comes from inner motives of
good heart that gives us privilege to express the hidden
beauty of thoughts inside mind to put it in words.
The power to dominate inside individual for beauty and
wonder purpose of life.
Copyright (c) Jocelyn Dunbar
13th of May 2006
7: 50 A.M.
poem by Jocelyn Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Send me some words
Send me some words that my gasping hope may breathe
That my agitated thoughts may release my mind to sleep, to rest in peace
Send me a message that my panting passion may survive
That my mind pantomimes on sweet honey memories stolen from our past hive
Send me some tokens of our love
I expect no rib bond written on paper white dove
Nor letters in scripted in your own hands
To knit back our love in strong strains
Of new touched youth of a ring and vigor to sew the stands
Of our affection, souls connection that as that round ring is plain
So should our love regain its youth its origin and simplicity
No, send me not the coral that your fine wrist enfolds
Laced up together in harmonious congruity
To show that our thoughts should rest in the same hold
No, not your picture though most divine and gracious
And most desired, popular and the best
No, not witty lines, which are most copious,
Within the writing which you addressed
Send me none of all
It will increase none in my store
But swear you know
I love you deeply so
Stall, hash and say no more
copy rights 2010
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Purpose Of Poetry
When first Man strove his thoughts to form,
New words became his goal,
Expressing hot and cold and warm
And spirit, body, soul
And heart and mind and conscience, too,
His dreams and his extremes
And ever-changing points of view
Turned into reams and reams...
From papyrus to paper size,
From words etched into stone,
Are truths writ there before our eyes
And laws that must be known...
As writers scratched their inky quills,
Inventors thought ahead
And simply by their thinking skills
Came fountain pens instead...
Computers came, both good and bad,
At our own risk, take care...
Keep saving all those rhymes we had,
Or they're lost in thin air...
But when they're saved and shared abroad,
Just think what's been acquired...
By some new special train of thought
The world could be inspired...
Thus poetry is in our hands,
Our heartfelt legacy,
Through which the whole world understands
Each psalm God caused to be...
Each birthday card that wishes well
With rhymes of fondest love,
Beguiles us with its magic spell,
As if from God above...
From hymns to pop songs day-by-day,
The world is made aware
That poetry is here to stay
With wondrous words to share...
Be thankful, then, for precious prose,
For favourites old and new,
With hidden secrets that God knows
And prophecies for you...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You & I
Oh, you and i
The time we spent together ends too soon
Like sun sets to the moon
So breath my beautiful
I often find that Ive been losing time
Cos what you said last night
That play upon my mind
Like thoughts of
Chorus:
You and i
You and i
It goes round my head like a carousel
And round and round my mind
You and i
You and i
I know what to do when Im not with you
I fill my mind with thoughts of
You and i
You and i
A simple need of love is what you bring
It plays on my hearts strings
Songs of love to be loved
Got me thinking of
Our moments that are gone but will not fade
And we live to be replayed
In my mind overtime
Like thoughts of
(chorus)
Well I know well make mistakes
But thats just the chance we take
I hope youll never say
Cos Ill never say
Goodbye
Say goodbye
To you and I (you and I)
You and I (you are always on my mind)
It goes round my head like a carousel
And round and round my mind
You and I (you are always on my mind)
You and I (youve just got to give me a try)
I know what to do when Im not with you
I fill my mind with thoughts of
You and i
You and i
You and i
song performed by by Five
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can't be undone
The truth remains same and can't be undone
The past and by gone may remain always bygone
The God has given you beautiful mind to inscribe on paper
It is how you feel and ink it on the subject matter
It does not remain then poetry
They are hidden words and not mystery
Every kind heart might have felt its impact
Let us make it as unforgettable holy act
Some one may see it as real art
Some words may be inserted as skillful craft
What actually you are doing with words?
Making it sharper than even swords?
Mind may read several things and store
It may add little or even more
The imagery may not remain ever confined
The feeling may come out and stay as defined
Poetry is reflection of clear mind
Many ideas may find mention and find
The safe refuge to come out at free will
It has to reside there and wait for still
It is like holy temple, mosque or church
You can create space, place and make search
It will create perfect environment with recognition
Only it will need proper key for ignition
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is All In One!
Passion for poetry is insatiable!
Poetry gives pleasure nothing can!
Poetry is many subjects under one roof!
Poetry never bores to write and read ever!
Poetry is a compression of many ideas in a nut shell!
Poetry displays power of pen to capture men ever!
Poetry captures as photo castles built in air!
Poetry is spontaneous over flow of ides!
Poetry flows free if extemporary!
Poetry is prolific words sure!
Poetry is a thing of joy!
Poetry is beauty!
Poetry is witty!
Poetry cheers!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Painting dreams...
Gazing at an empty page,
Thoughts and emotions run wild.
A portrait of words come to life,
Like dreams of emotions dancing.
Images of us live on in written words,
Stirring my mind and emotions.
A world of dreams built within the mind,
Forever floating upon the emotions of fantasy...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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