Wished In Retrospect
How legitimate can contributions,
Of a poet made can be?
If comparisons are made to another poet,
Who spoke from a time...
When poets expressed themselves,
From a different philosophy...
That occurred in a past be gone history.
I always accepted poetry to be commentaries,
Of that which depicted activities existing.
But there are those who today compare,
A cobbledstoned road of yesteryear...
To a highway today needing constant updating.
Since those who travel on it...
Have mentioned little interest,
Of using a covered horsedrawn wagon!
And most people afraid,
Will always attempt to validate nonsense.
Since this nonsense becomes romanticized...
As a time when exquisite etiquette was expressed,
As wished in retrospect...
By those whose ancestors were highly illiterate.
And lived amongst themselves in a welcomed ignorance.
And some like me are today told...
Our poetry is not European,
Therefore the quality of it...
Will never achieve exquisiteness.
And I sit to compose caring less,
About comments made by those...
Who have chosen themselves,
As images of correctness...
When generations of them,
Have chosen to digress!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Victim Of Learning Too Many Lessons
Why is it that it seems,
You express little empathy...
Towards those who are currently,
Suffering from hunger, homelessness.
And a loss of their dignities.
'I began to express that years ago,
When the sight of it would hurt me so.
And I witnessed those with turned up noses.
Pretending what was exposed,
Had been a dilemma others chose.'
But the circumstances today are quite different.
'How and why? '
Those who suffer,
Have lost their homes and valuables.
And images that impressed,
Others in a lesser position...
They never took time to address.
With their empathies expressed.
'And...
Your point is what?
Their suffering done is more effective?
And my empathy given to them,
Should be more reflective? '
But the circumstances today are quite different.
'How and why? '
These people have never experienced,
A life lived like this before.
'Neither had my ancestors.
But guess what? '
What?
'When my ancestors suffered,
They never discriminated by looking away.
And today you can say...
I am a victim of learning too many lessons.
And when I am shown a negligence,
By them expressed...
What am I to do?
Show them I have not been taught by the best? '
But the circumstances today are quite different.
'How and why?
Are these new lessons I have not recognized?
Have those old lessons been changed,
And are now disguised? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Potential Poetry!
Love has no fear whatsoever in the world;
Poet does all by his love of all matters here;
Poetry is inspiring words of poet for all!
What's not possible by poetry is nothing!
Impossible is expressed in possible words
Making unknown known by poetry only!
Forms and style are poets own creations;
Poetry is ever new in expression of ideas
Inspiring all to be enthusiastic, enlightened!
Love of Nature, life, beauty and love poetry
Explores always deep to express truth new!
Poets are gods of Earth to men to new realm!
Poetry briefly converges all in a nutshell
As powerful as atomic energy in control!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poetry Of Confession
THE POETRY OF CONFESSION
The poetry of confession -
The poetry of self- indulgence-
The poetry of the ‘wretch con-centered all in self’-
The poetry of moods and feelings-
Of all ideas only as they relate to the poet himself-
The poetry of desperation-
The poetry of need-
The poetry of urgency -
And serving the poet first-
Not enough of the world
Not enough of others- of other perspectives
Not formal and disciplined enough-
The poetry which is not crafted and polished
The poetry in which the need of the poet
Is more central than the quality of the poetry –
The poetry which may be too selfish to be good-
Whose moral failure makes more prominent its aesthetic flaws-
The poetry which is not so good
And not great
But quite banal and commonplace –
A poet can give his life to his poetry
And that still be nothing at all-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Happy They Have Been Able To Please
At one time,
People were complaining...
No activities for them were scheduled.
Today,
More than enough diverse activities...
Are scheduled for those wishing to participate.
And there are those calling from their windows,
That the planners of the activities...
Should have not scheduled them,
On the same day.
And that is why they have chosen,
Not to take advantage...
Of any those choices made available.
And the ones caring less,
Who is expressing what and for what reason...
Come and go to do as they please,
With a doing to get done...
Keeping prioritized,
From Sundown to Sunrise...
Their own focused motivations.
At one time,
People were complaining...
No activities for them were scheduled.
And the naysayers are still there,
Supplying from one event to another...
Their unsolicited critiques.
And the planners,
Who have scheduled such activities...
Are thrilled and happy,
They have been able to please...
The wants, wishes and needs of everyone.
They seem to be anyway.
'My goodness.
How were you all able to do this? '
~Excuse me?
I had earplugs in my ears.
We all do.
Most of us have removed them.
Those of us on the committee.
Do you mind repeating that?
What was it that you said? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The aged poet. For Kealan if
When he was young
and life was poetry
and poetry was life
and girls made poetry
in his heart
he’d showed his poems to
an aged poet who
was quiet a while then
nodded his head and
smiled and
said ‘keep writing’
and he swore that day
as long as he could hold a pen
he’d write some sort of poetry
and so he did and so he did
and when he was
too old to hold a pen
he spoke his poetry
some say in an Irish pub
and people came from miles around
and said sure it was a t’ousand times
better than to read his poems on the page
which was itself worth –
and that last phrase was poetry
for who is not Irish and a poet
and when he was too old
to walk down to the pub
they came and listened
at his door and at his window
and when he was too old to speak
they came to see his silence
and left as poets
for their head
had joined their heart
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mind Opening and Not An Eye Closed
Isn't it ironic,
That those comments made yesterday...
About the economy nose diving because of greed,
Were comments mentioned then to have a negativity.
But today...
Those same comments heard,
Are from the mouths and lips...
Of those walking up and down legislative hallways,
In Washington, D.C.
AND ironically...
Those then depicted as mavericks,
Were shunned and isolated.
Today?
People of 'prestige'...
Are announcing their 'maverickness'.
Their intolerance for waste.
And a marketed decadence,
They helped keep in place.
It is all ironic.
But does not astonish...
Those who have a consciousness,
That has been mind opening...
And leaves not an eye to closed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Those Once Outraged Are Amongst Those Crazed
The only time familiar faces become missed,
Is when words spoken thought ridiculous...
Were from them direct and sugar free.
To have outraged those to a frenzy.
And today?
Those once outraged are amongst those crazed.
Now...
Those very same honest and direct people,
Are remembered to be reminisced...
As those who spoke with words wished to hear again.
Since time has past to make what had been said 'then'...
More meaningful than ever to those comprehending.
Compared to the nonsense many accept today...
As a way to communicate their sanity,
From wherever it was purchased...
To label it as such!
The minds today are detached!
And to never come back from where they are.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tutorial for David de Santis
I read some poetry today
by long dead poets from the past,
which I enjoyed I have to say.
Their golden words were meant to last
.
Though they long since returned to dust.
The legacy they left behind
for poetry students is a must.
It is as if they were designed.
To act as templates we can use
as we learn to write poetry
It would be foolish to refuse
to benefit from history.
So find a poet you admire
from the past or present day
You might just find his works inspire
you to write a different way.
Experiment with every kind,
free form, free verse, formality
then in due course you’re sure to find
which one of these is your forte
The time you spend to learn the rules
is one investment you must make
Like any trade you need the tools,
Before you can attempt to make
your claim to be a master bard.
The road to fame is long and hard
with very little cash reward.
you have to try, no one is barred.
30-May-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On A Famed Poet
Forgive me if his greatness I cannot seem to note
His poems never rhyme but he is a famed poet
By literary experts considered to be knowledgeable and wise
And for his poems he has won many a prize.
Though poetry is not very popular today
The poet of the poetry lovers the experts do say
In University literary magazines students his verses read
And they all agree he's a fine poet indeed.
Of poets and poetry I must confess so little I know
My favourites old rhymers from ages ago
On the poetry I do not like most experts agree
That it is well written and quite good poetry.
Forgive me if the worth in his verse I can't see
His non rhyming poetry does nothing for me
Of reading blank verse I do quickly grow tired
My truth is by such stuff I do not feel inspired.
The experts on his poetry great interest show
And his stature as a poet only seems to grow
Of him great things are written and great things we hear
And good luck to him on his literary career.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maybe Today
Maybe today
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe someday
Things shall be any different
Than they are today
Maybe today the moon shall smile
Maybe today the world will dance
To the music and rhythm of yesterday’s drums
Maybe today our visions will rise to its Zenith
Maybe today we shall walk on the wire of our purest imaginations
Maybe today is all we have to become the architects of our fate
Maybe today is the perfect time to make peace
Maybe today is the best day chosen to forgive and let go
Maybe today is the time to be better people than we were yesterday
Maybe today is the best day to say ”AM SORRY”
Maybe today is the day to climb the highest mountain of purpose.
Who knows what tomorrow has in store?
poem by Irenio Irenaeus Bero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Only Show Me Interest
I would love to sit and spend more time with you.
Looking at life from your point of view.
But of late,
I am reminded doing this I have done.
With little of my own visions,
You have neither invited or have welcomed.
And if you did,
You've made many excuses...
To run to do errands,
With a wish that I would come.
Today my happiness for me has begun.
And it has taken me a while to understand,
My happiness is of no interest to you.
Unless,
Of course...
It is spent entirely catering to you,
And what it is you like to do.
No more am I in it just to give to you, boo!
You have no interest in me.
You only show me interest,
If it is a benefit to you in all that you do.
And people like you around me I don't need.
'That's not true! '
What is it that I like most to do?
'You never mentioned it.
So how would I know? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Such Portraits From the Past
Is there a relevance in attempts made...
To restore a past,
When an innocence was more restricting?
And the slow pacing done in those days,
Seem to last as long as those gaslights burning.
Or the wax that dripped from candlesticks.
It is difficult to face current times...
That seem less romanticized,
Than those of cobbled stoned streets.
Upon which people mingled,
With a sharing of their simple visions.
In nights then to seem never ending.
Is there a relevance in attempts made...
To restore a past,
When an innocence was more restricting?
And the slow pacing done in those days,
Seem to last as long as those gaslights burning.
Or the wax that dripped from candlesticks,
Thick with wicks homemade.
Is there a relevance to any of this today?
And why some try to glorify such portraits from the past?
Didn't many complained about them when they lived back then?
But today there seems such a renewed interest.
With a wish for those values.
And a quality of life reminiscing embellished victories.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When Each Season Leaves
To say today no changes have been made,
Is to exist in a stagnant vacuum.
Yesterday is not today.
Nor was yesterday the day before.
Those who perceive life,
As an opportunity to leech...
Sit waiting for someone to knock,
With a proclamation...
That allows them to breathe.
When each season leaves,
Another takes its place.
When someone opens a door...
So much more can be observed,
If steps are made to go forward...
To feel a freshness of this upon one's face.
To say today no changes have been made,
Is to exist in a stagnant vacuum.
Yesterday is not today.
Nor was yesterday the day before.
To say today no changes have been made,
Are words spoken from those...
Who have chosen the boredom,
Of a monotony to daily experience.
With a keeping of this explored.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poet and Chivalry
Poet, an industry not of mankind
An era that poet’s in awe to partake a rite
Poetry belongs to the ancient tribe
An era that poet’s dissolute and roaming
Poetry ascribes to nature and wildness
An era that poet a jester praised in comic to entertain the king
Poetry is the plaything of an empire
The era that poet yields to the media, pursuing fame and fortune
Poetry is a consuming product
Poet holds in awe since the heaven and earth are vast
Poet’s degenerated because of his nature
Poet’s comical because ironical the self derision
Poet capitulates because of human’s weakness
Although poet hasn’t always been an industry of mankind
Its luster would shine upon the darkness that poet ever survived
Lighting a light in darkness of history and showing its courage
Lighting a light in darkness of future and proving its foresight
Compromised the life
But allows not to compromise of poetry
The spirit and vitality of a chivalry is the case
Poet, still not an industry of mankind
Today
The chivalry has sealed his sword and pen
The page of poetry gradually stained and spotted yellow
The sharp sword conceals a smoked silver flash
poem by DePen Chang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Diary of a Nine Day Poet
Today (Day 1) I writed stuff I thort was pritty neet
I wanna do this poet shit, so that I can complete
Today (Day 2) I wroted tings I thawt was really neat
I one ta do these poem stuff just so I can compete
Today (Day 3) I wroted down some things I thawt was neat
I want to do some poet stuff just so I can compete
Today (Day 4) I wrote some things I thought was pretty neat
I want to do some poetry just so as I’ll compete
Today (Day 5) I’ve written things I think are fairly neat
I want to write poetically so that I can compete
Today (Day 6) I’m writing verse that is a poets treat
Expressing so poetically; you really can’t compete
Today (Day 7) One is just the best that one can be
I’m thinking other lesser folk should focus just on me
Today (Day 8) I give critique whilst looking down my nose
“One shouldn’t stand illiteracy – Does really one suppose”
Today (Day 9) Ones course is done, one writes on this and that
One’s still unread but now one wears a cloak and silk cravat
poem by Stephen Stirk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Not The Poet's Poet But Perhaps The Would- Be- Poet's Would-Be Poet
I AM NOT THE POET’S POET BUT PERHAPS THE WOULD- BE- POETS WOULD – BE –POET
I am not the poet’s poet-
The one poets of name and fame admire-
But perhaps the would- be- poets would be – poet-
Who tries to be a poet
And tries to understand what it means
To love poetry and live by writing it
Even when the world does not recognize me..
.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Not A Poet 2
When I feel I am really a poet
I see my flesh is poetry
My pleasure is poetry
My pains are poetry
My feelings are poetry.
Poetry protects me
Poetry teaches me
How to fight back and win.
Poetry is my freedom
Poetry is my independence
Poetry is my flag
And an anthem
Poetry is my prophet
And a messanger.
But I am not a poet
Do not read me
Burn me into ashes
Let there be a flower
From the ashes.
poem by Devil Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If The Truth Be There...Tell It
The strength of America,
Was built on the backbone
Of those of color.
Those who paved the railroads...
Chinese, Mexicans, Indians and Blacks.
And slaved in the fields.
The Irish know that these are facts.
Indentured slaves...
Many of them were.
While the 'others' found ease in comfort!
And doing what they feel.
While they imported relatives...
To begin nepotism deals.
Some with no English spoken at all.
And their ancestors made sure,
They were not the ones to sweat.
While ignorance at a time ran rampant...
To create today's regrets!
And that is the history,
Often not told...
To those who have chosen racism,
As the way to go!
To claim what is and not theirs to share!
If the truth be there...
Tell it!
And not sell deceit,
That defeats...
Lost souls!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!