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Delivering Those Moments

You must of thought I was a fly by night poet.
Someone who regurgitated aches and pains.
And declared that in some poetic verse.
To flow a tear with anger to disperse.
Bursting with bitterness at the seams.

I like to speak my mind historically.
With a probing into the archives.
To undercover a falsity.
Or perhaps some truth that has been hidden.
Since much of that has been smothered in the past.

Sometimes I like to stir things up.
With innuendos like being black...
In a white coffee cup!
Or sipping tea with leeches who are corrupt.

You must of thought I was a fly by night poet.
Someone who regurgitated aches and pains.
And declared that in some poetic verse.
To flow a tear with anger to disperse.
Or scream from a passion singed in erotic heat!

I can do that if I wished.
But I am not feeling that at this moment.
It is too nice of a day...
To prove I can dazzle with my abilities!
However...
Please do not assume you hide desires,
Of your lust for being teased!
And I...
So enjoy,
Delivering those moments!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The life of a Poet

The poet listens
the poet hears
he writes down
all his fears.
He observes things
that others don't
going to places
that others won't.
Inspired by simple things
like a sound or smell
the poet has lots
of stories to tell.
Even when asleep
his mind isn't at rest
in fact this is the time
it's at it's creative best.
The poet can be a restless soul
his life reflected on the page
some verse can be sweet and mild
then full of anger and rage.
The poet can be mysterious
and write in a strange way
he will say Black is White
and that night is day.
The poet is an artist
but instead of paint it's the word
painters want their work to be seen
but poets just need to be heard.

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Anger

This anger is eating me up inside
I dont know what to do
Will this anger ever stop
Or eat you up too?

Do you ever get this angry?
so angry you want to scream?
Or do you write an angry letter
and tear it at the seams?

So please wont you help me father?
Help me not to fade
For I am your faithful servant
And to you I will obey

poem by Poetic Justice
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A Waiting To Unleash!

Too much grief due to communal conditions,
Too much anger due to nonsensical notions,
Too much rigid restrictions due to obligations
Make one a poet at last to pour emotion in poems!

At such a time and mood can there be any form
Being followed according to regular poetic models
Usually known to all including both poets and critics
Who can comment and criticize according to fashion?

Grief and anger find whatever weapons available
To hit at the opponents according to their maturity
To establish fair points of view for stirring emotion
To make justice, truth and reason stand above all!

On such occasions words flow in cascades at will
From the depths of the poet’s heart that are hidden
And saturated for a long time inspired, ruminative
And contemplative in nature waiting to unleash!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Lunch With a Poet

I had lunch with a poet, just the other day.
A poet who has written fine and lofty verse,
Conveying his experiences, emotions and his ideas, in
Vivid, imaginative ways, condensed in simple language,
Choosing words for sound and power,
Rather than impressing readers with poetic adulterations.

Almost apologetically, he said he uses 'nickel words'
To write his inner thoughts. It was as if he were at fault,
As though he thought those simple sounds
Had lessened the intent of his poetic worth.

I emphasized how wrong he was, and tried
To make clear, a poet writes in sympathy with his reader,
Overleaping the barriers of understanding by the simplicity
Of his language, and of his words.

To write with words of misty meaning does not make
A mystic.
To write with vulgar words does not lift up the poem
On wings of song, it only floats as high as the poet's
Commonality who, mistaking flatulence for inspiration, becomes
Enmeshed in a literary byproduct of the foulest of excretion and Smells.

My friend failed to intellectually understand,
But spiritually Accepts, as his writings reveal,

That clarity of thought and mind is the poet's
Highest point of the poet's integrity.

poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memory Of Me As A Poet,

memory of me as a poet,
My doleful soul need's the great memory of me as a poet,
The pure memory taught me of the spontaneous event's of life,
How creation gave me authority to reveal such a strong poetic verse,
I recited the poem in my mind only to realise the great motor memory,
But pure memory revealed all my past writing,
I can relive my past only by the memory of the great history,
Global memory took my mind to think of the great poet.

poem by Maxim Muyu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Nice

There is nothing better than being with you,
And I'm feeling so Nice!
Verse 1
Take the beautiful sting of a scorpio,
A careless smile and it begins to snow,
And it hurts me to think that you might never know,
That I've got this thing about you,
In case you don't understand,
There's something else I meant to tell you!
Chorus
There is nothing better than being with you,
And I'm feeling so Nice!
There is nowhere better than here with you,
And it's feeling so Nice!
Verse 2
Staying up with the moon,
And walking home in the rain,
Mixed with your perfume and never twice the same,
I got a lot to lose but everything to gain,
When I really think about it You haven't got a clue,
It's all that I can do to hide it!
Chorus
There is nothing better than being with you,
And I'm feeling so Nice!
There is nowhere better than here with you,
And it's feeling so Nice!
Verse 3
Did I already say?
Because you make me forget,
I might as well be brave and tell you,
And it hurts me to think that you might never know,
Will it hurt as much being true?
I might as well be brave and tell you!
Chorus
There is nothing better than being with you,
And I'm feeling so Nice!
There is nowhere better than here with you,
And it's feeling so Nice!
There is nothing better than being with you,
And I'm feeling so Nice!
There is nowhere better than here with you,
And it's feeling so Nice!
Yeah i'm feeling,
And it's feeling So nice!

song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry Is Like A Beautiful Work Of Art

A poem has no write or
wrong,
How to write your poem
is up to you,
Visualize a perfect poem
That readers will love,
Adjust a poem as much as
you want,
Remember a poem is like
art,
You write it with meaning
and passion,
Add as much as your heart
desires,
Short or long it does not
matter,
Add a picture with your
poem,
Add a quote or a verse,
it is a poet's decision,
Always be proud of your poem,
Let the words flow when you
write,
A poem expresses a feeling,
thought and emotion,
Add a frame and hang it up
on a wall,
share your talents with the
world,
Poetry is like a beautiful
work of art.

poem by Derek James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pains Of Predjudice

I have experienced pain
Undeserving and vivid pain
Pains of rejection and pains prejudice
Pain when my rights were wronged.
Pains while others endure undue harm

My heart aches, my mind bruised
From pains of emotional abuse.
I have seen and experienced it
Read about it, still living it.
Pains of prejudice.

poem by C. Albert Andrews
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The Poet

The poet can only utter the word fine
The poet has to bear the sorrow and the sin.

The poet can only say I am happy
The poet can only say I feel no aches no pain
The poet can only say I am not in loss
The poet can only say I am in the side of only gain.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Emotions

i am feeling empty inside
maybe! it's because the feelings that i hide?
at times it's a feeling of loneliness
and at times, it's loves and desires hidden away.
but with all this i have to say.

i will never change the sensations
of feeling different emotions.
love, joy, sadness, bitterness, sorrow, anxieties, and stress.
but closeness is the one i love the best.

to be close and to be inspired, is my lifelong desire.
to have someone to hug you and to tell
you that everything is going to be alright.
and that someone is there, when you're down and out
that is what emotions is all about.

i found love and it was bursting to be free
a love, so deeply hidden inside of me.
i saw the love in someone elses eyes
feelings and emotions that they could not hide.

i felt their exhileration, and each and every sensation.
i felt the pains that a heart must go through
to bring all feelings closer to you.
the heart and the mind work hand in hand
but it is the soul that makes the plan.

(is it the mind that tells the heart what is love, what is pain.
what is sorrow? or is it the heart that tells the mind these things?)

the soul is the one that instills all these things into us
and this is what we have to trust.

emotions is lifes key
it could make you a slave, or set you free.

poem by Louis Rams
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My Worst Enemy

my worst enemy is within me
an anger trying to be set free
i have hidden it for many a year
because it is full of fear.
the fear of telling what i see and feel
emotions that are very real.
real to the point of no return.
but! screaming for this voice to be heard.
this anger that's inside of me is when i see children
going through their aches and pains.
in a world that they did not create
let's help them before it's too late
there are children starving all around the earth
if this is what we have to offer
why did we allow the birth?
as adults we should see-that all we're offering is poverty.
i don't believe in abortion-i believe in life.
so let us think about it'twice'.
think of it all you can-and let's start giving a helping hand.

poem by Louis Rams
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Thrombocytopenia

But you promised, but you promise.
And you died without even saying goodbye.
Anger, confusion, sorrow.
Feeling it through my heart as it becomes hollow.

Thrombocytopenia

Why did it have to be this way?
Questioning the very existence of the day.
As if it could be changed.
As time could be stopped, or rewound.
Please somebody hit pause then play.
Then just maybe it would be okay.

Thrombocytopenia

Sometimes the simplest of words will do.
I loved you.
I loved you.
To the point of insanity then there was only more.
I speak in past tense to help me move past the thoughts of it.
The grieving process.
A process that one time is more then a enough.
A ghost that has become this numbness.
A skeleton that haunts you in the back of your mind.
Flash backs from time to time.

Thrombocytopenia

Trying to grab on to stars before they fade.
With so much at stake.
Why does their have to be so many aches and pains.
When does the bleeding stop?

Thrombocytopenia.

A wound that just won't heal.
And I can feel.
My insides pouring out through this wound that just won't heal.
This wound that just won't heal.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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A Spirit Of Poetry!

when a spirit of poetry decent,
it came
In a form of dove

When it came
Jesus became first poet under sun
And Almighty God
Was already, first poet over sun?

Using Poetry in poetic foam
Almighty GOD spoke through poetry
And he is a poet himself

Now his poetry is everywhere, and anywhere
We interact with poets
Words are like soil, are everywhere
Brighter that Sun
His poetic lights lead the way

When he likes
He will come
He will be in poetic foam
To Re-arrange poems
Schedule them in a poetic manner

On a judgment, He will met poets first
And secondly meet
Those who haven't written a poem
To Discuss similes, metaphors and personifications

Future of poetry is in heaven

poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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When They Come Alive

Try to keep them, poet,
those erotic visions of yours,
however few of them there are that can be stilled.
Put them, half-hidden, in your lines.
Try to hold them, poet,
when they come alive in your mind
at night or in the noonday brightness.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Pleadings From a Dead Poet

Oh Muse, release the locks that dam the flow
Of verse and song from my distended heart.
Find passion for my soul that I have lost poetic speech.
Let flow the streams of ardency to seek their source
Within the infinite, harmonious, consistency of words.
Embrace me Muse,
Allow the fountains of my mind to fill the empty pools
Of solitude with thoughts and sounds of dreamy visions
Worthily expressed.
Awaken to my reverence,
Breathe forth that harmony to which my soul was filled.
I stand in this anhydrous waste, in dread
My ever-present being shall be made invisble to life.

And she replied:

'Be silent fool, and listen
For the still, soft whispers of your inner Self.
Harken to the Counsel of your bosom,
Through which Creation passes.
Then, you write.'

(Blank Verse)

poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Sexual Innuendos

Innocence has blown up in a puff!

Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!
And addict a kid to lust.
With a stirring that corrupts.

All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
And when children think of chicken...
They want to know if the rooster plucks.
And in what position does a chicken cluck.

Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!
And addict a kid to lust.
With a stirring that corrupts.

Those sexual innuendos...
That stir things up.
Are fed to feed attraction,
With a stirring things up!

And made to trap...
Weak minds to keep attracted.

Those sexual innuendos...
That stir things up.
Are fed to feed attraction,
With a stirring things up!

And made to trap...
Weak minds to keep attracted.

Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!
And addict a kid to lust.
With a stirring that corrupts.

All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
And when children think of chicken...
They want to know if the rooster plucks.
And in what position does a chicken cluck.

All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
All those sexual innuendos,
Can stir things up.
Those,
Sexual innuendos...
Can stir things up!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As the Music Plays

As the music plays
my heart aches
it aches with pain
pain of the past
and pain of the present

As the music plays
my heart aches
it aches with hurt
hurt that I have caused
and hurt that has been caused

As the music plays
my heart aches
it aches with passion
passion that yearns
and passion that wants

As the music plays
my heart aches
it aches with love
love that will never be shared
and love that will never be known

As the music stops
my heart no longer aches
it doesn't feel anything
the music has stopped
and so has everything else.

poem by Carissa Thiessen
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Godfrey Speaks

Godfrey speaks truth
of world's daily loss
dreaming desires hidden in souls
freed from the depths of sighs
rendered from the heart of minds
eluded dreams of pure mankind
yearning for a thought for share
seeking most soothing ears
promoting a verse to bear
earning grace's golden tear
at a lonesome heavy price
keeping life's true rejoice
surely now I speak

poem by Godfrey Morris
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