Guardsmen
these poems are guardsmen
with lances and bayonets
to keep this oft wayward mind
in line and follow what it has itself
thought to be the best method
to achieving poetic justice and
perhaps eminence
what a puzzle when the brain finds
its own rules so hard to keep up with
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Strangest Tribe
It's five below in evidence.
The winded eves and sideways snow.
His eminence has yet to show.
Follow the ageless tide.
Follow the angled light.
Follow the strangest tribe.
I... I... I...
It's 6:00 AM. You're waiting for...
You've had your feast. You're wanting more.
Follow the wayward mile.
Follow the distant high.
Follow the strangest tribe.
I... I... I...
Follow the ancient stripe.
Follow the angels try.
Follow the strangest tribe.
I... I... I...
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Puzzle
friends are like a puzzle
fitting together in so many ways
sometimes it seems like a piece is missing
sometimes it seems like everythings just right
sometimes it seems like things are falling apart
friendship like a puzzle is hard to figure out
sometimes puzzle pieces disappear
and sometimes they never come back
so my puzzle, your puzzle, our puzzle must be completed
there is only one thing that can complete the puzzle
a piece of every friends heart
our puzzle is what holds us together
my puzzle is complete
all friends are happy
all hearts are here
the friendship puzzle is complete
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Almost Poetic
It's almost poetic
The way you speak
It's almost poetic
The way you think
The way you sleep and dream
It's almost poetic
The way I feel for you
It's almost poetic
The way we argue
It's almost poetic
When we say goodbye
Not knowing the next time
We'll see each other
You are the curved line
And I am the dot
That creates the question mark..
And it's almost poetic
If it were not so pathetic.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Plan of Creation
Life's terms, life's rules.
Rules made up by life,
But not the creator of life.
Life tries to challenge the rules of the creator.
It tries to change the rules of the creator.
But the creator can never be changed.
Nor can His rules.
He should never be challenged.
His wisdom and knowledge is the design.
For I am not the designer.
I am merely a part of the plan.
Of the overall design.
A beautiful creation, by a beautiful creator.
My mind is my cage, my box.
To live outside the box is to be truly free.
The creator's creation is creative.
But I am only a piece of the puzzle.
A puzzle is many pieces, that creates a big picture.
For I am not the big picture,
I am merely just a part of it.
I am not the beginning.
I am not the end.
I am just something in between.
I am stuck in the middle.
And there is no place I would rather be.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Everything And Everyone
She's never afraid of what her past had might become
Alone in her lazy time in-between a thought that ends with loss
Her life is spent searching for the next
An answer a question never asked
Everything and everyone finds their time
Everything and everyone writes their line
But it seems hard now things work out in time
She lacks self pride her lazy time
Never once identified her lonely nights
Spending days alone but through the phone
She waits for a voice to calm her name
Then takes a drink says it makes me sane
She lives through a dream she once called fate
Then finds herself alone to contemplate
Everything and everyone finds their time
Everything and everyone writes their line
But it seems hard now things work out in time
song performed by by Near Miss from The Gentle Art Of Making Enemies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Poems with difference
How does the imagination strike the mind?
Does the brain allow them place to find?
Why they are termed as crazy and dreamy persons?
Does this statement find any favour with reasons?
May be poetic appetite does not allow them to grasp?
Appeal in wordings may not be enough to last
It is as if some is asked to under go test and take medicine
Feeling good inwardly but with bitter test of quinine
We may see enough water available in pot
Put to test while making it very hot
It may turn into vapor beyond certain point
Poetry is also like vapour………………..
Ideas may suddenly emerge in sequence
Mind may pick up and build it as consequence
How to project it rightly may prove as acid test
It may be looked as fine blend of poetry and best
Somebody may try it hard on words skill
Many may stuff it with metaphors and fill
Single sentence may now bear different look
Golden sentences may appear in costly book
Nature, heavenly bodies and earth simply provide
Kind of message, love and passion does not divide
Humanity survives with strengthening of the bonds
Poetic wisdom is stored like enough water in ponds
Easy words, fine presentation and theme crate impact
Love, passion, generosity improve with certain contacts
Poems can rule the hearts with immediate healing touch
Pulse can be felt as if it has enough power to offer so much
Poems can be those who can touch millions and rule
Lessen their worries and react with mind so cool
Poet Kalidasa* was novice and considered as fool
His poems are master pieces without help from any school
Rule the heart, touch the nerve and excel in field
Tremendous response and enough skill to yield
The desirable effect may be seen in poetic world
There may not be going back after developing cold
Poems must find the light of the day
Many may side line you and keep at the bay
You got to sail through and find the way
Stars and sky will be yours with more to say
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On the Innate Drive For What is Right
As life bled, martyrdom flared its buds.
Repression, red from irritation,
Rendered chinks and cracks; but thuds of
Armament - in cowardice - accomplice of the
Dictatorial blight thro' countless years -
Wreaked its retribution:
Yet hope began to bloom a coloured carapace
Enshrining their allegiance ‘gainst the
Terror in their tears.
And on! Splits yawned - breaches in the junta:
Flesh fought fanatical minds -
Bullets welcomed into open hands
And blessed with yearnings for morality:
Chiselled man-toys of death and mutilation
Couldn't repel the might of freedom
Surging at the bright horizon.
Crepuscular rays of purpose, body,
Flooded pandemonium with
Overwhelming clarity, direction -
Burdened clouds drifting wayward as the
Light channelled out a vision,
Intensifying focus on tomorrow -
Deepen their stride
As they home in to
What is theirs,
Rightfully theirs!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The reign of justice and freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
justice justice justice justice justice justice justice justice
freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom freedom
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Ballade of the Incompetent Ballade-Monger
I am not ambitious at all:
I am not a poet, I know
(Though I do love to see a mere scrawl
To order and symmetry grow).
My muse is uncertain and slow,
I am not expert with my tools,
I lack the poetic argot:
But I hope I have kept to the rules.
When your brain is undoubtedly small,
'Tis hard, sir, to write in a row,
Some five or six rhymes to Nepaul,
And more than a dozen to Joe:
The metre is easier though,
Three rhymes are sufficient for 'ghouls,'
My lines are deficient in go,
But I hope I have kept to the rules.
Unable to fly let me crawl,
Your patronage kindly bestow:
I am not the author of Saul,
I am not Voltaire or Rousseau:
I am not desirous, oh no!
To rise from the ranks of the fools,
To shine with Gosse, Dobson and Co.:
But I hope I have kept to the rules.
Dear Sir, though my language is low,
Let me dip in Pierian pools:
My verses are only so so,
But I hope I have kept to the rules.
poem by James Kenneth Stephen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The poems I love
There are poems that I envy,
poems that I admire and respect,
poems that simply sing to me,
poems that I puzzle over…
but the poems I most love -
they may be jewelled and adorned
with adjectives and adverbs,
similes and metaphors, (but
they must be enlightening, relevant,
making mind and heart to expand
in sheer exhilaration)
or they may be so quietly, humbly carpentered
that they say, I’m simply here to serve you…
but they all say to me with
shining eyes, as if
the world made new in that moment,
‘Yes, I was there!
Join me there! ’
and their ‘there’ is here and now
and as great as the universe
and the heart that yearns.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You ask me to leave (Pantoum poetry)
The “pantun” is a Malaysian poetic form that was introduced to the West by French novelist, essayist, and poet, Victor Hugo (1802-1885) , hence the French spelling, “pantoum.” Westerners have taken creative liberties with the Malaysian form, which tends to follow a standard rhyme form of ABAB, where multiple, rather than single subjects, are introduced. While pantoums can have unlimited stanzas, you might want to begin with a 3-stanza poem until you get the hang of it:
Stanza 1: Line 1/Line 2/Line 3/Line 4
Stanza 2: Line 5 (repeat of line 2 in stanza 1) /Line 6 (new line) /Line 7 (repeat of line 4 in stanza 1) /
Line 8 (new line)
Stanza 3/Last Stanza (This is the format for the last stanza regardless of how many preceding stanzas exist) : Line 9 (line 2 of the previous stanza) /Line 10 (line 3 of the first stanza) /Line 11 (line 4 of the previous stanza) /Line 12 (line 1 of the first stanza)
And you ask me to leave all behind
Now when our moment in time is done
Going nowhere with nothing in mind
'Cause you're my world and my special one
Now when our moment in time is done
I love you like there's no end in sight
'Cause you're my world and my special one
You're still on my mind all day and night.
I love you like there's no end in sight
You're inside me filling my soul's space
You're still on my mind all day and night.
I feel still cuddled in your embrace
You're inside me filling my soul's space
Going nowhere with nothing in mind
I feel still cuddled in your embrace
And you ask me to leave it all behind
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Selling a Poets Mind
Devoted to writing the words of poetic inspiration
I offer my mind as soul payment
Some say it’s a madness of strange conception
I claim a quiet misunderstanding
To follow each emotion with such intent
Expressing and expanding beyond reason
That I may flower in bloom a thought
Far beyond its own conception
I whore out my heart to illustrations
To better depict that which I seek to serve
A flow of endless poetic verse
Seemingly I have become detached
From a world I may never have knew
And so in my indifference
Some say I carry a strange madness
Perhaps I do, perhaps I do
For I am devoted to writing the words
Of poetic and beautiful inspiration
If my mind is the fee of creation
Then to poetry I shall cash in
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My audience
i write for the sun
moon, stars, sea,
the real readers
of my lines, verses
listen, the laps of the waves
they rush in estacy
to collect each of
my new poetic gems
strewn over the sand
look, the twinkling of the stars
they crystalise each
of my poetic thoughts
basking in their joy
shower their charms to the world
oh, yes, how could i forget the moon? my muse?
who cheers me up
as it signs in and out of the sky
in slender line, curvy line, round line,
to show its joy of my lines
never missing any line
and the sky that extends its heart
to all my poems, good or bad
giving the sun, stars, moon,
their recognised places
in this poetry world
the sea cheers on the rest
as the wind recites my lines
capturing my audience
in impressionistic bewilderment
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
New Super Hero Worship
Once there was a little child
Imagination running wild
Doctors used to say that he was lazy
Never had a word to say
Does not want to go and play
Locked him up and said that he was crazy
N-U-T-S that's what they say he was
S-I-C-K because of what he does
G-O-N-E they say that's where his mind is
B-A-C-K but in another way
K-I-L-L the method of today
L-O-S-T the meaning of what life is
Now he's free yeah he's a man
Takin' what he's learned in hand
Locked away for years with just a t.v.
Freddie Kruger shares his bed
Michael Meyers rules his head
Friday the 13th is what it should be
N-U-T-S is now what he's become
S-I-C-K because of what he does
G-O-N-E his mind went a long trip
B-A-C-K but in another way
K-I-L-L the method of today
L-O-V-E New Hero Worship
Super super The 1st power
song performed by by 24-7 Spyz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Poem about Poery - Poetic World
a hindrance for poets
are those who read
some poems and
think they know what
all poets are up to
they live in a world
of make believe -
a poetic world indeed
that somehow clashes
with the actual poetic world
if the rain would just fall
down in one straight line
the ants all created in a single rank
and the wind, blowing from
one lasting direction
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Puzzle Of Dreams
Raindrops falling down from the sky
Feeling empty inside
Searching for reasons to hold on
No one sees the struggle in me
Or the wounds that won't heel
Victim of choices that i'm making
(Welcome)
Welcome to my puzzle of dreams
Baby welcome to my heart
Trying hard to find pieces
In this puzzle of dreams
Fighting way out of the dark
Meet my puzzle of dreams
Pictures spinning round in my head
Feels that i'm almost there
But when i reach out it falls apart
In my mind I know what is real
Feel the power in me
Inside of my heart I have it all
When the hopes keep on fading
All the pieces I'm saving
Remind me that I am strong enough to
Make my puzzle of dreams
song performed by by Vanilla Ninja
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Valentine’s day
Valentine’s Day of nineteen ninety nine;
‘Twas the forty-second birthday of mine!
A day, I cannot forget in my life!
My first book of poems published ’midst strife.
Eight months’ poetic work came to lime-light!
My Pen’s struggle got covered with delight;
It started like India’s Pokhran Blast!
And ended with a fine finish at last.
I have joined the band of Poets today!
A proud Indian Poet, I should say;
Stunning array of poems, I display;
My heart pounds with music and is gay.
Just a sample of my poetic skill,
Like a bolt from the Firmament, it fell;
To my airy lute, loud tolls the Church bell;
Every literary heart is full of thrill.
A turning point in my career, perhaps;
Stimulating my right Brain’s many gaps;
This God-given Talent, I better use;
In me, the world will see a mighty Muse!
The happiest day in my life, I feel;
My yester-years’ woes are put under seal;
My Poesy had got off to a fine start;
I’ve got to toil hard for my poet’s art.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rules or no rules
Poetry has no rules to go
It has simply to flow
As lines emerge from deep corner
You write it as fast as runner
Rules or no rules
It has to be simple tool
To catch the nerves and make impact
Poetry is as such fine art with single act
I follow nothing
Simply obey the instinct that has to do something
With human mind and touch
Poetry has its own kind to influence as such
Some may say it is boring
Some may listen to it while snoring
Cuckoo reveals it in early morning
Words strike as has rhythm with warning
Wake up! And now time to resume
A bright day with blessings has come
We are all made of simple clay
Poems must spread fragrance when find its way
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Missing puzzle
They talk of the puzzle that has the missing piece,
But none mention the piece with the missing puzzle,
It's hard when there is nowhere to turn for release,
And searches for acceptance lead to refusal,
It pains me to hear puzzles constantly complain,
For the piece with a missing puzzle cries in vain,
They try to fit in places that they never can,
And end up with a life like that of a cursed man,
They can pretend they are another puzzle piece,
And then try forcing themselves into a puzzle,
But it will hurt them until they crave for release,
And acknowledge their prospective host's refusal,
They will surely be doomed to tiresomely roam,
In a vain search for a place that they can call home,
Till they declare themselves a puzzle of their own,
And then learn how to be content being alone.
poem by Christian Lacdael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh The Poems And More Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE MORE POEMS
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems I am writing all the time
God has given me this gift
And when I wait in the right way
And when I listen to myself properly
The poems come in ways I could never have thought of or imagined before
They come as mysteries as gifts as surprises
As wonderful to me as perhaps to you their possible readers
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems God has given me
And the light of this day and so many other days, also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!