Poem about Poetry - The Dove
the dove that
just flies away
carries my dream
high up into the sky
and fans an inspirational
poem right into my mind
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
We should get into the habit of reading inspirational books, looking at inspirational pictures, hearing inspirational music, associating with inspirational friends.
quote by Alfred A. Montapert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Grieve
It was only one hour ago
It was all so different then
Theres nothing yet has really sunk in
Looks like it always did
This flesh and bone
Its just the way that you would tied in
Now theres no-one home
I grieve for you
You leave me
so hard to move on
Still loving whats gone
They say life carries on
Carries on and on and on and on
The news that truly shocks is the empty empty page
While the final rattle rocks its empty empty cage
And I cant handle this
I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing whats gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on
Life carries on
In the people I meet
In everyone thats out on the street
In all the dogs and cats
In the flies and rats
In the rot and the rust
In the ashes and the dust
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Its just the car that we ride in
A home we reside in
The face that we hide in
The way we are tied in
And life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on
Did I dream this belief?
Or did I believe this dream?
Now I can find relief
I grieve
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Dove
A white dove came to me
The sun was high..
The dove sit upon my swing
The sun was high, ,
As his eyes burnt into my
Soul..
The sun was high..
As he carried me upon his
Wing..
The sun was high..
As we descended into the
Cloud’s..
I seen a shadow as we whisk
Within and above the sky..
The face that linger beyond
The sky..
Gently smile and to just fade
Into the simmering light..
The sun was high..
But, yet the dream felt real
As his eyes burnt within my
Soul..
As the bright light engulfed
me..
A white dove came to me
And the sun was high
poem by Carolyn Sears
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Walks Without A Poem
HE WALKS WITHOUT A POEM
He walks without a poem
There is no poem in his mind
No poem in his heart.
But the idea of a poem
The dream of a poem
The daily task of a poem
The justification given by a poem-
He stops and writes these words down.
All around him
the morning light sings songs
of the things
of this world.
A poem perhaps?
Perhaps not?
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem In My Mind
you cannot steal my poem
it is in my mind
you cannot put an end to my poem
it is alive
it has the wings of an eagle
flying high
nesting on a cliff
a very high cliff
beyond the grasp of my hands
it is wild
as wild as the cobra in the forest
but when i recall it back
in my memory
it becomes gentle as a dove
as tamed as
my dog
wagging its tail behind my
back
it becomes a tamed horse
waiting for my
ride.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poem Is Not A Dream
THIS POEM IS NOT A DREAM
This poem is not a dream
It comes from where so many true poems come
From the other side of the mind
When it does not know peace -
From the waking desire
The hunger that is not satisfied
The lonely life and the lonely mind-
It comes from the search for love
And the love itself – the joy of love-
And from the memory of what we most deeply know when we are ourselves in love of another-
This poem is not a dream-
It comes from the waking world and the waking words-
The hard truths the bitter small things
The disappointments and rejections
The endless small humiliations which Time and Chance make of us all-
This poem comes from where we are most human
With the pain of those closest to us-
And our longing to save them and be loved forever by them-
The dream is not the poem
Life in its all its endless difficulties is the poem
And this poem too
Does not say half of all the hurt I have suffered in this one small day alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been
THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN
The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again
THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’
‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?
Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’
The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream Poem
this poem is a dream
you wish to escape
if only you would awake
you could forget this poem
words pursue you through
the white pages of this dream
the voices you hear have
been spoken by this poem
people reach out, they live
here, they dream of you
now you smile, eager to dream
on, but the poem is fa d i n g
poem by Bruce Deitrick Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You And I Could Fly High Into The Blue Sky
If you were my morning dove
What is love dove
Could we fly through the air dove
Would it be enough
If you and I could fly
Could you and I try
Not to shed tears and cry
I will not lie
To thee my dove
You and I could fly high into the blue sky
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have a kite
a kite fly too high, is but a dream to see
see it with me, fly it to see, feel it
with me, all are just the way to
be with me
a kite flies, lies a tie that flies
a wonderful kite, soar high above to
the sky so high, surfing to the heaven
it see
a kite that brings, the thing to be,
brings it with me
a day that i know, where it go, hold
me so dearly, and leave with me
for that kite that fly is me....
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0127 A Poem About Gertrude Stein
a poem slept
the poem slept
nobody knew it slept
it did not know itself that it slept
it slept like a baby
and that was refreshing
it refreshed itself before it was born
as babies do
it did not then know itself that it slept
but when it woke up it knew that it had slept
while it slept this poem had a dream
it was a good dream
it did not know that it was a dream
it dreamed itself awake
but when it woke up it remembered
that it had had a dream
it remembered that it was a dream
when it was awake
when it woke up
it remembered itself
and dressed appropriately
and told itself to friends and strangers
it told itself the same way to friends and strangers
that was its duty because it was
it did not mind whether they were friends or strangers
because it was a poem
I know
I know this
I know this because
I know this because there is a because
I know this because the poem told me
I know this because the poem told me it had a name
A poem about Gertrude Stein
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by David Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by Aisha Patterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love The One You're With
f you're down, and confused
And you don't remember, who you're talkin' to
Concentration slips away
'Cause your baby is so far away
Well there's a rose, in a fisted glove
And the eagle flies with the dove
And if you can't be with the one you love, honey
Love the one you're with
Don't be angry, don't be sad
Don't sit cryin', talkin' 'bout the good times you had
Well there's a girl, sittin' right next to you
And she's just waiting for something to do
Well there's a rose, in a fisted glove
And the eagle flies with the dove
And if you can't be with the one you love, honey
Love the one you're with
Turn your heartache right into joy
She's a girl, and you're a boy
So why don't you get it together, make it nice
You ain't gonna need any more advice
And there's a rose, in a fisted glove
And the eagle flies with the dove
Sometimes you can't be with the one you love, honey
Love the one you're with
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem Comes From Somewhere Else
THE POEM COMES FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE
The poem comes from somewhere else-
From behind my mind,
The black the darkness.
Through the eyes,
The green the morning light.
The poem comes from somewhere else-
Beyond I-
God High God Nigh.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weight of the Wind
The wind carries much more than we see
It carries a lot of what makes you and me
The wind blows and carries lies
Around the world it carries cries
We don't hear nor see any of these things
We don't know or feel what the wind brings
The wind carries the wishes and dreams
The wind carries promises down streams
On it lays our secrets we hold inside
Also the love for others we try to hide
It carries so much oh how I wish to know
With all that weight how can the wind blow?
poem by Mathew Welch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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