Snake Woman
* (Poem supposed to be written in the shape of a snake)
She coiled 'round my neck,
And foiled all my plans,
We toiled and tussled and spoiled our glands.
poem by Joshua Dinkin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written
THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moonlight-blessed
when I turned round the corner
walking alone, walking light
the moonlight spread over the open patch
and the coiled snake
twitched a little
straightened quickly
looked at me,
some proportion of surprise
but mostly in lethargy
‘be at peace, snake,
be at peace;
I wish you no harm
I shall go my way in peace
and so do you too’
and I walked on silently
moonlight-blessed;
and the gentle snake glided away
moonlight-blessed
poem by Raj Arumugam
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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Nothing..
This poem is not about love..
This poem is not about pain..
This poem is not about the things i have learned...
This poem is not for the broken hearted..
This poem is not for the ones seeking help..
This poem is not for the depressed...
This poem is for no one,
Because no one can contain nothing...
This poem is not filled with wisdom..
This poem was not written with love...
This poem was not written for a lover nor a brother...
This poem was nothing special...
Not quite remarkable....
But it is nothing because that what it was...
Nothing and it will never be anything...
poem by Jenna Marie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can A Poem Be Written
CAN A POEM BE WRITTEN
Can a Poem be written
In Anger Frustration Fear Disappointment?
Can it be written
In Failure?
Can a Poem be written
When no light shines
And the middle of the night is longer
Than life itself?
Can a Poem be written now
When old afraid sad angry foolish failure me
Cannot even dream?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh! Heaven
The venom of that
stunning snake
sour taste of acid
those drowsy pills
deadly speeding truck
roaring sea waves
anything would have
brought me here
the luxuriant dreamy
zone plush with exuberance
the purple trees
foiled fruits
honey spitting
coiled serpents
consummation stopped
senses blocked
negations never
could be witnessed
unforgettable
smell of poison
indelible shade
of damn hell
would complete
this fairyland.
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mine
A little white house with black wooden shadows
A porch with its columns all covered with vine
My broken dream house where he lives with another
But this was supposed to be mine
Two little children that look like their daddy
With the same smile and the same eyes that shine
The only thing wrong Im not their mommy
But they were supposed to be mine
Hes given to her what he promised to me
The plans that we made never can be
For each night he holds and carresses another
And she is supposed to be me
Hes given to her what he promised to me
The plans that we made never can be
For each night he holds and carresses another
And she is supposed to be me
And he is supposed to be mine
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To cut ages, be with other sex
An eye for woman connects a man’s sexual glands.
When glands dry, feelings for women and sex dry.
To keep it alive, you be to charm the blondes
And in their arousal, your glands are squeezed.
25.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will I Have A Poem Tonight?
WILL I HAVE A POEM TONIGHT?
Will I have a poem tonight?
Or will tiredness take me to bed
Without an answer?
Will I be able to find within myself
Some sounds of meaning
Some hint of beauty?
Something deeper than the darkness outside
As real as the longing within?
The poem which is written about the poem which is not
Is the poem which is written about the poem which is
And the poem which is
Is tonight the poem of the night
And the poem of the night tonight
Is the poem this poem is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unfulfilled Dreams
The best laid plans of mice and men.
Are often foiled by circumstance.
Undaunted though we try again.
We are convinced there is a chance.
That things will change and re arrange.
So in due course will succeed.
Although I find it passing strange.
That circumstances can impede.
The plans we made so carefully.
There's nothing we can do but wait.
As best we can; impatiently.
It all depends on fickle fate.
It matters not how hard we try.
The best laid plans gang oft awry.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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I Saw A Snake In The Grass
Peering through the swamp grass
I saw a snake
The snake saw me
coiled and sprung
Big Mistake!
I chopped it in two
The quartered it too
Might give a piece to you
Heads you win!
Tails you lose!
Either way: New snakeskin shoes!
poem by James T. Adair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anymore # 3
and if we choose nothing,
then where lies the choice?
the body has to be willing,
for truth to have a voice....
there's sharks in the water covered with oil.
the melting pot simmers, comes to a boil.
it's struggle and try, hard work and toil,
the talons bared, and the snake is coiled....
as slavery takes hold on American soil.
equality the plan, the plot is foiled!
and as the wind blows hard on freedom's shores,
we stare in the mirror, and unlock the door....
our sons their victims, our daughters their whores,
we're not gonna take it anymore!
........just not gonna take it anymore!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have Not Written A Poem For Days
I HAVE NOT WRITTEN A POEM FOR DAYS
I have not written a poem for days
For days I have not written a poem-
And my heart and my soul
My whole being
Longs for a poem.
But is this a poem?
Or am I nothing
But an unending babbler?
A word- struck fool?
A maniac in endless search of meaning?
While all around me,
This sunlit winter green Jerusalem Beauty,
I cannot say -
And as I stop to write,
Do not even now behold.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem That Is About To Be Written
THE POEM THAT IS ABOUT TO BE WRITTEN
The poem that is about to be written
Will form itself slowly,
Line by line,
Will make of itself a meaning
It does not know.
Will be beyond
All that it could have thought to be – beforehand.
The poem that is being written
Has no name,
No face,
No beauty,
No light,
It is just the poem that is coming to be in the silence,
Where I am alone with my own Seeming.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When You Read This Poem
when you read this poem
silently like a prayer written
on the wall
of an ancient structure
and then when you pause
upon a word and begin
to ponder
like ' what is this poem really
trying to say? '
or ' does this poem have in some
way something to inform me
or touch me
or simply waste my time? '
rest assured this poem has
made you phrase some questions
not about you
or about me alone but
whether you believe it or not
this poem has become
a bridge between us
taking the shape
of a rainbow between two islands
and in a moment before you
begin to figure it out
or even know it
it is gone like a sigh passing you by
without any significance
and not worth remembering
but once
after you have read till the end
once there was this poem
and it seems to have no meaning at all
except a task
a journey that you have taken
arriving at nowhere
and giving you the essence of nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Was Destroyed By Its Own Words
The poem was destroyed by its own words
And could not be written-
The words were not good enough
The words were not exact enough -
The poem nonetheless wanted to be
It waited in longing for other words-
Other words came
But they were not the poem either-
The poem it appeared
Was never to be -
The poem disappeared
Before it could be written
That poem forever is not
And in its place only these lines
Barely a poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Which Makes No Reference To Poetry
A POEM WHICH MAKES NO REFERENCE TO POETRY
A poem which makes no reference to poetry
And does not wonder who and what the poet is-
A poem that makes meanings of life outside the world of its own self- reflection-
A poem that is what life is
In some far and different way-
That poem
Waiting elsewhere
Written by someone else
So great in its beauty
And so powerful in its light
That poem written by someone else
About something I know nothing about
In a way I never dreamed or imagined
That poem is not written by me
And never will be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Can Be Written Too Early
A POEM CAN BE WRITTEN SO EARLY
A poem can be written so early
That even the morning light
Won’t see it.
A poem can be written too soon.
A poem can be written before it exists
And so never be
Despite the fact that it is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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