True Blue Poetry
poetry may not
be a popular art
but a true yardstick
of the wisdom of words
you are either frown upon
on the first few lines
or cherished as friends
at your very first
the way a new acquaintance
is judged from the very first impression
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words of liberation for my nation
Chains of slavery are still over my people.
Notorious minds still over power innocent minds.
What can free the black child, what can free my nation?
I ask in pain and suffering in the dark jail cells,
What can free me from mental slavery?
How to know right from wrong?
How to think free and build a free society?
The solution is in the words of liberation, the words of wisdom.
I write and recite a revolution, my revolution my poetry.
I do n’t need praises or worship but only recognition and understanding of the people to words of liberation, understanding of poetry.
I stand before you to present poetry,
I stand before you to present the words of liberation to my nation.
Poetry that builds, poetry that destroys.
Poetry that destroyed the impious minds of colonists in Rhodesia.
I speak of poetry that built freedom in South Africa.
When I speak of poetry I mean the true meaning of words.
Words of wisdom,
Words of freedom,
Words of liberation,
Words to free my nation.
The words of liberation to my nation
Words of liberation to free my generation
Poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry.
poem by zimi Nakeni
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry, That's What I Write
Parody of the classic song Money, That's What I Want
The best words on the page are here
Teaching you a hell of a lot more about life
Then just the birds and bees
Now you know words of magic
Words of wisdom
Given birth
Right here, right now
Oh, yes
Poetry, that's what I write
My wicked writing should give you such a thrill
So don't be shy
Go ahead and click on this link right here
My poetry won't pay your bills, no
But I can promise to give you some kinky thrills
Now you know
Poetry, that's what I write
Bright and beautiful
Perfect as can be
Poetry, that's what I write
Oh yeah baby
Poetry
Poetry, that's what I write
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I like
Poetry
Oh yes
Poetry, that's what I love
Poetry, that's what I write
Whoa
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Well, now read my poetry
Ooooh, oooh yeah my poetry
Read my
Love my
Poetry, oh yeah that's what I like
What I love
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I write
Yeah
2008 Ramona Thompson
poem by Ramona Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Has Its Own Music
POETRY HAS ITS OWN MUSIC
Poetry has its own music-
A mind empty of it
Wonders where it is.
Poetry has a rhythm of its own
Without that rhythm
Dead words dead lines dead pages.
Seeking the rhythm the music of poetry
Flat lines come
And the poem is a parody
Of true poetry.
How many flat and false poems
Have I written
In order
To help me try
To come alive?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Became His Own Poetry
A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY
A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.
A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anxiety Is Not A Poem
ANXIETY IS NOT A POEM
Anxiety is not a poem-
Fear is not one either-
Yet inside
Needing some relief
Words come as Balm-
Only they cannot be just words
They must sing inside themselves
And bring an inner Joy in Beauty –
Only Poetry true Poetry words of Poetry
Can help now-
And whether they are in these lines or not,
I hope, but do not know.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True Identity
True Identity (This is a song)
(1) I’m trying so hard to get though the week, but things go wrong when people don’t speak, see that is not my problem my problem is I have no one the speak. to, I try and I try to put on a happy face, I try and I try to not look misplaced, but I guess that’s what’s on the outside, on the inside is a whole nother’ place…
(Chorus) I’m let down, by my friends at school, I’m not pretty popular or cool,
I whish they could know, how much they’ve hurt me, all those things, just had to be dirty, I’m the loser with the long blonde hair but in my heart I’ve gone somewhere,
So what they see is not my true identity….
(2) So my heart is like a mirror, reflecting those words, the school days draw nearer, and I feel like a curse, My feelings kept inside my head, so I reveal them now to you instead….
(Chorus) I’m let down, by my friends at school, I’m not pretty popular or cool,
I whish they could know, how much they’ve hurt me, all those things, just had to be dirty, I’m the loser with the long blonde hair but in my heart I’ve gone somewhere,
So what they see is not my true identity….
(Bridge) M world is spinning upside down, And now my smile is a frown, But now the summer is over, the weekends are all I have left, the school week seems not to end, like a river with a never ending bend….
(Chorus) I’m let down, by my friends at school, I’m not pretty popular or cool,
I whish they could know, how much they’ve hurt me, all those things, just had to be dirty, I’m the loser with the long blonde hair but in my heart I’ve gone somewhere,
So what they see is not my true identity….
No they don’t see me, or my true identity….
By: Riley Smith
poem by Riley Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Man Became Addicted To Poetry
A MAN BECAME ADDICTED TO POETRY
A man became addicted to poetry-
Wherever he went he read or wrote a few lines-
Poetry became much of what he did-
Poetry and poetry and poetry-
As if that alone could give meaning and pleasure to his life.
A man became addicted to poetry
And so lost at times
What true poetry is –
Now he writes without knowing
Whether he is truly writing
Or merely using the ‘idea and world of poetry’
For his own peace of mind.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Poetry
1
poetry can be
like a sky filled with wrangling clouds
or as a sky without a wisp
2
in poetry there are no
clichés in thought and phrase;
and what is left there is
the resplendent and the living
3
poetry leaves one
rich inside
and ordinary outside
4
the fool defines poetry
and poetry defies all definitions
5
poetry entertains, inspires;
poetry tickles, distracts, and shapes and frees -
but its true intent, no one knows
6
many lines, and countless lines
many pages, and thick volumes
don’t make poetry
7
if one had no coins
one cannot buy bread;
but not all the world’s wealth
can bring you poetry
8
Oh no!
Not another love poem!
Oh no!
Not another poem about oneself!
9
rhyme, technique and meter
and tricks of prosody
don’t make poetry: passion does
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Need To Write Poetry
When the need to write Poetry
Is greater than the Poetry one has-
When one forces onself to write lines
Though those lines are lesser poetry-
When against one's own inner emptiness
One nonetheless writes the words down-
When the need to write poetry
Is greater than the Poetry one has
There is lesser Poetry
Perhaps no Poetry at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Love For Poetry
You can take the smile from me
And leave me alone to frown
You can walk away and forget
But you'll never bring this down
My Love For Poetry
Throw those shadows as you do
And tell me there's more to life
You see you will never know
The true love I know is right
My Love For Poetry
There is no greater love you see
It speaks for me from inside
You can shake your head and go
Because this love will never die
My Love For Poetry
Yes the greatest love of all
Is the words I can express
You can't take that from me
No matter in life or in death
My Love For Poetry
poem by Suelynn Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A slender acquaintance with the world must convince every man that actions, not words, are the true criterion of the attachment of friends.
quote by George Washington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Poetry in Limelight
True poetry is filled with;
true inspiration,
true expression,
true composition,
true fun,
true-maturity,
true wisdom,
and true spirituality.
True poetry; deeply translate its true expression to the readers,
providing an unusual mutual extension which connects and familiarize its profuse massages to the reader.
True poetry has great powers of profundity
and unadulterated knowledge.
I keep hearing the saying; ‘plenty poetry lay in the graveyards'
but I don't give into that, because;
true poetry is like a moving destiny, its never lost or buried away.
No matter how beautifully engraved the grave is;
it must surely resurrect and be discovered in another creative beloved beholder.
True poetry never rest in tombs,
that's why it continuously itch thumbs and tongues until it is spoken or wittingly actualized.
True poetry, never frustrates a reader,
It's an excise which lustrates the brain and feelings.
Even if a poetry tries to depict political damnation, poverty, heartbreak, dearth/death, illness, or hunger,
it should always portray wondrous lesson or a revival mission.
True poetry makes you everything you want to be.
you can surely write your life the way you want it to be,
because your destiny is in your true poetry.
poem by King Femi Oloidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Has A Rhythm Of Its Own
POETRY HAS A RHYTHM OF ITS OWN
Poetry has a rhythm of its own
I have lost it
I have words
I have sentences
But I have no rhythm-
I have flat lines
One after the blank other
A mind without depth
A sense of lack
But no real way
Of making a music of poetry
All my efforts now
Are like these lines
Without resonance
Simple and single in meaning
Not what a poem at its best
Should be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Judged (I Believe)
Originally posted in 2008, however some issues occured and all my poetry was deleted, however I had a copy of it stored and am reposting it now
Do me wrong, and ill do you right
Punch me in the face, and ill still be alright
Do me wrong and say what you will
Cos I know and I believe
That These folks will be judged someday
I believe you'll be judged one day
Stab my back, and ill scratch yours right
Screw me over and Ill still be alright
Screw me over, stab my back
Cos I know and I believe
That everyone is judged someday
I believe you'll be judged one day
Don't Believe in God, cos I like his teachin'
Don't worship the son, cos I hate their preachin'
But I believe I'll be judged someday
I believe I'll be judged someday
poem by Electric Tripp
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Father cuts a Furrow
My father cuts a furrow, true lines does he run,
My father cuts a furrow, no horses did he have,
My father cuts a furrow no fields, hills of grass,
My fathers furrows were wisdom,
This is what he had.
To his dying day his gait was straight and true,
My father was not a farmer, for the city,
All he knew.
As father cut his furrow, so does hit son, I am told,
The wisdom my Father passed on to lay dormant,
Many years, put on hold, not until the age of 78 did
I realize, not much time left, as I too was growing old,
So I write my poetry from my fathers wisdom,
That was willed to me, only way to have my stories told.
As father cut his furrow, so does his son, to pass
The wisdom, that was left from father,
God Bless his soul.
poem by Charles Garcia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mister Ed
It was brought to our attention yesterday-
Because to us it pertains...
Your poetry or lack of words...
Have-indeed-left many stains;
And an impression on some: 'in the know'...
Who deemed we should be told...
So glad that we have true friends out there...!
'Cause this world is getting really cold;
Now keeping track of words you've said or blank pages-
In a hyperion sorta way...
A horse is a horse of course-
And the scars we bear are from yesterday! ;
The Garden Of Eden is gone in your world (Blacked Out)
While July third is still a mystery...
But its been brought to attention and received questionable mention...!
'Frankly'-it may go down in the annuls of history! ;
May 18,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fate of Top Poems!
Past poets were remarkable by their poems only;
But present poets are made remarkable by others!
Poetry of the past are no doubt top poems ever;
But poetry of the top are not listed in top poems!
Becoming top poets how can theirs have no place
Among the top poems of the poetry list? I wonder!
Touch stone of the top poems depends on merit
But not by the supports of friends for fun ever!
Poems of lasting value only can become classic;
But poems of no merit also have become classic!
Poetry of the past are romantic and also classic
But poetry of the present are neither but modern!
What is the yardstick to select poems as top ones -
Just support of some but not merit and meaning?
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry and Poet
Poetry is poet's inner world,
Churnings of Self in distinct words;
Poetry is not black and white,
Grey, nuances of diverse hues
In kaleidoscopic word-networks
That capture all formless clouds
In the deep sky of the poet's world.
Poetry is poet's outer world,
His expressions in proper norms;
Bare thoughts, his rogue fights within
Dressed well for the popular nod;
Poet's world, a messy snake-pit,
A burrow of rats, snakes, insects,
Fighting to spring in riotous words,
Filter'd for world in elegant words.
Poetry is never a judgement,
Sheer whispers from heart to heart
Beyond what words do transport;
Words in lilt and dance, poetry,
Links they bond, cadence they ring,
Makes a poetry, a true poetry,
A mirror of poet's inner turmoils,
His hopes and strengths in right words,
Indecisions he suffer, his deeper Self.
Poetry is release from inner cauldron,
Steams from within in guise of words,
Quiet flames of the inner hearth
That flared for long finding a vent;
Poetry, a relief, a joy of sharing,
Sharing the Self with the world outside,
Back to the source from where all came;
Poet is the priest, poetry, his hymns,
Offered to the world for peace and grace.
Poetry sprouts from the morass of soul
And grows out of poet like pipal tree
And outstays him;
Fleeting is poet, but not his poems,
Poetry is the poet universalised;
It sucks his thoughts, sucks his force,
Spreads outwards to enrich the world
And leaves the poet richer and strong
Like fire and good deeds always are,
How much you share, so richer you are.
poem by Praveen Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Lost The Music Of My Poetry
I LOST THE MUSIC OF MY POETRY
I lost the music of my poetry
I tried to hear it again
In old lines of my own,
Or in the lines of more musical poets-
Tehillim and Kohleth
Stevens and Keats, Hopkins Wordsworth and Dickinson-
Shakespeare-
But I heard no music of my own
Perhaps I have never really had
A music of my own.
Perhaps all I have had
Is what I have here-
Short lines of prose
Which also have their rhythm-
But are not true poems
And certainly do not sing together
As my soul would.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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