Poem about Poetry - Poetic ritual
when inspiration comes
the world falls into place
words strew themselves
into verses filling up
a blessed receptacle
god joins you in your
honoured quest
to help you experience the better part
of his creation
when the poem is finished
the flower is in full bloom
god throws himself at your side
to savour the essence
of the blend of spirit with you
the poetic ritual is nearly done
pray that the next full moon
he will return to you
to help put the world in order
for another round of divine union
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Harvest Moon
the yellow moon,
the colour that i could never get right
in my art class
well who can
it is never really yellow
and when you add white
it loses its luminosity
full moon
well when it is full
it is never round
if you look casually at it
it bulges at one side
with a tiny star twinkling at its side
a little child crying to be carried
but who cares except the round moon
poetic moon as poets would write
whether it is or not
the little child that would soften their poem
never given its recognition
lazy bones are always copycats
and they get the world messed up
with their inaccuracies, self conceitness
the moon,
the next door amateur witch
gives it a dose of evil
chanting archaic verses for a love charm, bag of luck
and a spirit in the wild
the moon that boosts my spirit
with its innocent roundness, a softness of a girl's buttock
maternal's light, and the ways it slims, fattens, slims, wanes
signs itself in and out of the sky
inspired by
The Harvest Moon
The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off, and sinks upward
To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.
The harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.
And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum.
So people can't sleep,
So they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.
The harvest moon has come!
And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world.
Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
Cry `We are ripe, reap us! ' and the rivers
Sweat from the melting hills.
Ted Hughes
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Nature Is What You Dont See
nature is what we dont see
for instance the essence that pushes words out
for this poem fated for posterity
the birds that without fail
chirp at first light, morn breeze
the unseen clock working at the dot
nature is what we dont see
the nocturnal bloom, that folds itself
in the day, throws its fragrance
in the dead of night as lovers
hide in each others' bossoms
below the soft glare of the moon
centimetre by centimetre
it has inched forward to exhibit its
full blown majestry to the world
Nature is what we dont see
the shadow play master tilting the earth
the petals for its bloom dance
the successive cells here there
guided towards optimal functions
and that ogiasmic tremour
that shuttles the world round and round
nature is what you should not see
the formulas, secrets kept behind everything
that could get even einstein mad
in unveiling, explaining them
nature is what we all should not see
nor equipped to see
though it rambles through our every cell
like the worst of storm
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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
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New Flowers, New Universes
a million years for a flower to unveil
its magic to us - fragrance, shades
and the art of divine creation
filamen, pistils, stagmen, pollen..
petal by petal, inch by inch,
second by second,
sun and moon, moon and sun
a million other universes
accompany the bloom
as it slowly, surely
digests the world
to show us its beauty
as the bloom crowns
us all at the apex of its wonder
- a million other universes
too have been born and
shuttle towards achieving
a full bloom in the heavens
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Flower Blooms As The Universe
a million years for a flower
to unveil the art of divine creation
to us - fragrance, shades, curves,
texture and minute ingenious designs
- filamens, pistils, stagmens, pollen..
orchids, roses, crocuses, geraniums
petal by petal, inch by inch,
second by second,
sun and moon, moon and sun
a million other universes
accompany the bloom
as it slowly, surely
digests the world
to show us its beauty
as the bloom crowns us all
at the apex of its wonder
- a million other universes
too have been born and
move inch by inch
towards achieving
a full bloom in the heavens
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Poem about Poetry - Born poets, made poets
born poet, nature's gift
the beauty of god's essence
caught in every bloom and season
the years caught, preserved
in the lines and cracks
of a treasured antique
that never fails to excite a collector
made poet, from him
scholastic verses that trace every
perception, but blurly hits on
their exact sequence
the echo of the poetic self usually
missing - God did not put it there -
a crescent that entrances but
never as much as a glorious full moon
a blindman's quest to tell
the bends and squaring of a lane
after having been led
through it a hundred times
the thinly veiled struggle between
confidence and diffidence
the perceived and the real
the pain to put each
in its proper order the way
nature has done it, minus all
elements of pretensions, or ignorance
that come lose through each written word
a net sieving out the made poet
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Over the expanse of the Poet's mind
over the expanse
of the poet's mind
a full moon hangs
a ripe round orange
full with the sweetness
and joy of the universe
every now and then
a tide of inspiration
suffuses the sea of
his intellect where
the allure of the
moon is magified in
dazzling lines the poet
lavishes his verses
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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God, is this the world you have created?
1-The minds full of lust
The minds full of lies
2-The world full of darkness
The world full of dirts
3-The world full of people like you like me
Using beautiful words when we need
4-The world full of injustice
Both in West and East
5-The world full of women who have lost their purity
For earning property
6-The world full of hate
In each time, in each date
7-So many racism, so many contempt
So many people who always pretend
8-GOD,
Is this the world you created
9-GOD,
I am sick and tired of living
there haven't been anything interesting
for me on your earth
poem by Nader Baheri
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Life for Lord
Lord,
You bring the world to me,
The world full of knowledge,
The world full of greatness,
The world full of winner,
The world full of miracle,
The world full of shit,
The world full of Satan,
The world full of faggot,
and maggot
I worshipped you,
I wish to steal your heart,
I wish to have you,
I wish to be you,
I wish to like you,
So nobody will hurt me,
and kill me,
I am one,
I am you,
No,
I am me,
I am still me,
From beginning until the end..
poem by Nur Jawahir Mat Jan
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Shapeshifter Poems
1
the legend is whispered
in the women's tent
how the moon when she rises
full
follows some men into themselves
and changes them there
the season is short
but dreadful shapeshifters
they wear strange hands
they walk through the houses
at night their daughters
do not know them
2
who is there to protect her
from the hands of the father
not the windows which see and
say nothing not the moon
that awful eye not the woman
she will become with her
scarred tongue who who who the owl
laments into the evening who
will protect her this prettylittlegirl
3
if the little girl lies
still enough
shut enough
hard enough
shapeshifter may not
walk tonight
the full moon may not
find him here
the hair on him
bristling
rising
up
4
the poem at the end of the world
is the poem the little girl breathes
into her pillow the one
she cannot tell the one
there is no one to hear this poem
is a political poem is a war poem is a
universal poem but is not about
these things this poem
is about one human heart this poem
is the poem at the end of the world
poem by Lucille Clifton
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How To Survive The Flood
This life has seemed
like a small grain of hope
washed away upon an
entire ocean of despair.
And yet have never lost
faith in the importance
derived from the lessons
taught during the journey
nor with choice currents
winds seasons of change
nor the timed destinations
which changed realities.
For the embryonic grain
carried was belief in my
changing consciousness.
Purpose in all creation
separated divine imprint
knowing mirror image.
Veil ocean of despair
was a materialistic
world that washed
against affirmation
of potential humility
compassion for others.
I sought to cultivate
in fertile soil within
myself to seed in
others. I believed
that to change self
was to change world.
To improve self
was to improve
an entire world.
I chose to cast
myself upon altar
of our creator God
when I could
offering up
my life energy
as a beacon
of insight to light
illumination
the indifference
with the wonder
that I perceived.
That seekers
might seek
the mystery
written within
the world
and question
creation
and wonder
at the infinite
being which
embodies
cosmic totality.
Thus in seeing
life seeded
in poetic soil
seekers
might
tend that
previous
precious
flower of
unique
creation
that contains
their own
soul which
will germinate
and flower
as shared
essence
of their
own life
coloured
experience
flavoured
being.
I know
a simple
recipe to
make a flower
grow a little
better in any
garden for
as long as
it lives.
Change
improve
yourself
you change
improve
the world.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The World Is Full Of Idiots
the world is full of idiots: the dumbest you can find
the world is full of idiots: who never use their minds
the world is full of idiots: they drool upon themselves
the world is full of idiots: bodies gathering dust like unread books upon the shelves
the world is full of idiots: just like you and me
the world is full of idiots, as dumb as they can be!
the world is full of idiots: rageing war for fossil fuels
the world is full of idiots: when it is taught those who think: are just fools...
A special child is a special One
thank you for giving me the light in this world...... when
you shared to me the life, that the Lord bestowed and
blessed, you deserve that gift, to have a special one
thank you for the fruit of love..... your lives fulfill the
purpose of creation, your unending steadfast care lifts
me up to survive, amidst the uncertainty of life
thank you for being there..... when I needed you most,
you are always in my side, pushing me to face all
adversity, though I exist with no fear in my heart
thank you that you let me taste and experience..... what
is life with you, our memories always linger in my heart,
even though that meaningful happiness is off valued and
something special to me
thank you dear someone..... your presence is giving
me the strength to stay alive, this is the life I live, my world
is different from you, and I have to stay in order to live and
survive
thank you for accepting and letting me go..... beyond your
limit for you don't know where I will go, this dream that I
take is only, me can reach, a place where nobody knows
thank you for helping and making me to achieve, with my
own volition to know more of myself..... hoping the best of
everything on me, and believing that I might see the
meaning of my existence for the destiny I made is the
destiny I live.....this maybe the end of why, I am living in
this world with you dear someone
thank you that in my journey in this life..... you are with me
surfing every pieces of puzzle of who am I in this creation,
a creation that everyone is free, a creation that I am a part
and I exist, a destiny to move on and a place I live today
thank you..... for believing me even in your heart, thou you
didn't see what........ I believed, just always remember that
the life I share in every moment I've take. lives with you
forever and it is beyond your own imagination for the
world I live..... lives.....only in every man's heart that is free
' do not see them as how they think and look, but see
them as what you feel '
poem by Antonio Liao
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Living the words
i pluck out all those gigantic
words in a dictionary with the wish
to write a high brow poem
it turns out a fruit i do not even know how to call
neither sweet, nor sour, nor a pearly shape
nor anything that you can find in this world
the final poem glaring at me like a stranger
one bumps into in a foreign town
all the words beg me for the reason
to grace my poem, they say they
are not even my friend for i know them not
that they have never interacted with me
and i have never caroused with them
they dont mind, they say, standing in
for the verses as new friends do for formality
but frankly tell me we are not yet in such spirit or
company as to perform a dynamic act
i reread the poem to find indeed they are mere words
friends that got thrown together without knowing
what to expect from each other
they bow out and the whole poem just got lost
in the wilderness of my mind
i seek those friends out anyway, to share a part of their life
so that i can if needed be, belt out a proper song with them
to impress the world, to throw the audience out of their seats
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The world is not divine sport, it is divine destiny. There is divine meaning in the life of the world, of man, of human persons, of
you and of me. Creation happens to us, burns itself into us, recasts us in burning — we tremble and are faint, we submit. We take part in creation, meet the Creator, reach out to Him, helpers and companions.
quote by Martin Buber
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Poetical Aspirations
No one can inject poetical aspirations
It has something to do with natural questions
It is natural instinct and comes from childhood
You may love to write and neglect the food
Some are turned poets in late life
May be they had shock over the demise of wife
So many problems made them weary of the situation
Life would have turned hell with suck draw backs continuation
Either someone is struck with love from a beautiful girl
Or something has come to him by sheer luck in turn
In both the situation he turns poet with lot more to write
Express it explicitly in one corner or in moon light
Little touch makes him to wonder with romantic world
He is in new world with everything coming to his fold
The destiny is just few meters away
He has found his new way
It is not poetic skill
But his triumphant views and strong will
That keeps him in good spirit
Writes everything on blank paper or whole shit
Whatever may be the cause?
There is no let off or pause
Something new is to be believed
Love must rule and pain must be relieved
Full moon appeals more under such condition
All phrases take good shape with new ammunition
It is nicely expressed in mild but heavy words
Full commitment to new relation and always looking forward
This is how new poetry comes in force
Either it is full of love or remorse
But certainly it is fine creation
From deadly life to a lovely elevation
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ohh! ! The world, , ,
The way world go round,
It seems everyone fighting for the crown.
The way people express their emotions,
It seems world has became the place of heartless persons.
The way people ignores other's tear,
It seems the world lacks human.
The way people gives order,
It seems the world is full of Hitlers.
The wat people cheats,
It seems the world is the home of Bluff-masters.
The way I found people,
It seems the is a hell, , , , , , ,
I AM LIVING IN, , , ,
poem by Mitika gupta
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A Child's World
Welcome to my world
Some say it's a simple place
Well that may be so
But at least, there's always a smile on my face
Welcome to my world
It's a world full of joy
It's a world full of love
The world to me now is just one big toy
If ever you're feeling low
If ever you have no place to go
I'll always welcome you to my world
That's something you should know
Welcome to my world
It's a world free of hate
It's a world free of wars
So please don't hesitate
To come and visit my world
poem by Ray Hansell
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Great Beyond
Ive watched the stars fall silent from your eyes
All the sights that I have seen
I cant believe that I believed I wished
That you could see
Theres a new planet in the solar system
There is nothing up my sleeve
Im pushing an elephant up the stairs
Im tossing up punchlines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
And all this talk of time
Talk is fine
And I dont want to stay around
Why cant we pantomime, just close our eyes
And sleep sweet dreams
Being here with wings on our feet
Im pushing an elephant up the stairs
Im tossing up punchlines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great beyond
I want the hummingbirds, the dancing bears
Sweetest dreams of you
Look into the stars
Look into the moon
Im pushing an elephant up the stairs
Im tossing up punchlines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great beyond
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great
(repeat following two verses 3 x each)
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great beyond
Im breaking through
Im bending spoons
Im keeping flowers in full bloom
Im looking for answers from the great
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be a poet!
the world needs more poets
not famous ones
just thoughtful ones
inspiration alive
to help us thrive
now here's how to milk
that poetic fecund cow:
pray if you choose
it's a savvy option
where you can't likely lose
Spirit just might -
quicken your light
but it's ok if pray you don't
if God isn't your thing -
poetry is about what
only you can bring
and then - think
of what matters most
since you're both guest and host:
friends?
insects?
sex?
anything is fair
in Poetry's wild hair
write what you feel
spill a few words or more
for mental relief
be bold and brief
be your editor in chief
no one is watching
except perhaps
curious angels
say it your own way
let the words fly
as if your thoughts
touched God's blue sky
poem by Harlan Simantel
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