A Language Scrum
It was a gathering of the Metaphors
who likened all things
to all other things
never identifying Essences;
leaving nothing as the core..
Similes arrived stating triumphantly that
they were superior to the merely metaphoric
and especially to the Gerunds.
The Nouns were enraged
claiming that they were the origins of things named
and all that could be named.
They all held the Dangling Participle in contempt
whose cohorts hung at the end of the table
speaking in sentences fragmenting.
The Pluperfect laid claim to wedding the Past
and Present
and to having had given birth to Language.
The Action Verbs demurred claiming that all history
depended upon them and their meanings and consequences.
'We are action' they said
'you are all after-thoughts and musings.'
So it was the Poetry Slam
the battle of the Language Parts
cogitating on sentences
and what they mean.
Metaphor opened saying 'poetry is contest-
a battle of words in the arena of created meaning-
designed to feed the brain, open the mind;
give sight to the blind.'
'We are all part of a wagon wheel
and each of us has only a spoken
truth.
'Yes' Simile said 'we are all like angry rose buds
trying to bloom.
Verbatim declared that all Poetry
was based on faith and faith alone.
Anything else was Untruth.
Gerund hung back claiming all meaning is hidden by
hidden meaning and that clarity was mystical.
So in the scrum, no one was able to find the ball.
And then they all went home.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Related quotes
Ivisible Battlefield
Invisible Battlefield
There's a war that rages daily With many a battle fought And it seems that no one really Understands the foe named 'thought'...
Pastor..
He seems so small and passive Sometimes he's good and kind But his evil can be massive As war wages in our mind..
Throughout Faith in Action
It's an invisible battlefield No allies at our side As the foe its power wields We cannot run and hide...
But we have a Great Captain in our Pastor And He alone can see Each battle and each out-come Defeat or victory..
Throughout Faith in Action
It's an invisiblebattlefield But we have God's true Word We have faith's invisibleshield We have the Spirit's sword..
Throughout Faith in Action..
The demons, darkness, evil forces Strive to take control But they cannot alter courses With the One who saves our soul..
Throughout Faith in Action..
It's an invisiblebattlefield No one to cheer with glee As evil thoughts and armiesyield To inner victories..
Throughout Faith in Action..
For many a tear-stained battle Upon these plains are fought With many a plea and many a prayer Prayed for this foe named 'thought'..
Throughout Faith in Action..
Someday beyond these borders This battle will bedone As God our foot-steps orders We'll fight them one by one
Trust our Pastor..
With Him, the foe we'll conquer He is a faithful shield For He is Lord and Master Of our invisiblebattlefield...
RK. Hudson
poem by Ron Poetry
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A Big Or Brief Poetry......!
Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!
Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?
Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!
Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!
Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
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What's the real meaning of Poetry
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
what is the real meaning of you?
is it the sonnets, the haiku's the imagery
no one will ever know.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
I know the real meaning of you
to express my feelings and thoughts on paper
to be able to publish you.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
you tell me the meaning of you.
poem by Nadia Potenza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wine, Women And Poetry
I’m drunk on wine, woman and poetry
Drowning myself in an uttermost beauty
Of one such solitary spoken word
I whisper it softly, keeping it close
I share it sparingly, keeping it rich
It matters most, more than anything
And it brings closer, all that matters
Each celebration leaves a memory
Nightly becoming even more perfect
Yet distracting me from everything else
That I may miss on out other hobbies
Drinking, friends and love are hobbies
Picked up by man and woman alike
With such ease they build addictions
They seem to override the mind
Setting a new precedent to be followed
Then that word creeps in slowly
Claiming a higher price than other words
Claiming a higher meaning
I’m consumed by words and meanings
I’m drunk on them all
For they are the speeches which linger
On wine, women and poetry
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Moderns
To many reading modern poetry more interesting the meaning in the metaphors they seek to find
They feel it makes their brains work that much harder that it is good exercise for the mind
Rhyme for their great brains seems that bit too simple it does not test their thinking power at all
'Tis not a poem to them if it seems simple and the meaning in it easy to recall,
Yes rhyme for them it does seem that bit simple and deciphering it to them is not a test
The hidden meaning in the metaphors is something that does seem to try them best
Rhyme poetry to them is too simple and far too easy for to understand
It has to be blank verse with dozens of metaphors for their interest for to command
They look on rhyme and bush poets as inferior their preference in poets and poetry they make known
On literature they air their opinions like it is said to each their own
Their poetry evenings do seem quite exclusive rhyme poets to read they never do invite
Their unmusical lines that are laced with metaphors to each other they do recite
They do not like rhyme or they do not like bush poetry to them it is of another time
And in their poetry evenings there is no place for the men and the women of rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The True Meaning of Poetry!
What is the true
meaning of poetry?
Is it rhyming
words together?
Is it about love?
Is it about
impressing?
No, unlike some,
I have discovered the,
true meaning of poetry!
Poetry is the feelings in your heart!
It's really just your heart on paper!
Poetry can be about anything really,
Anything at all! It can have a certain theme,
Like shoes, a talent, a fantasy, love,
World issues, personal issues, history,
Past events, important things!
Poems can mean nothing,
But they can also mean the
World to any one! You just
Never know! Poetry is a way
For people to express them-
Selves. Ex-addicts sometimes
Use poetry to help them when they
Are craving their old addictions.
Like I said, poetry can mean
Nothing to one person,
But mean the world to another!
poem by Rhiannon Parvin
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Poetry On The Chin
You gouged my mind's eye,
Tantalised all inner thought,
Shocked from unknown angles;
Sold me, told me cold,
Unfolded, moulded;
Shouldered any harbouring
Of empty morals.
You spun me round; undressed -
Pestered me with background riddle -
Piffle came to gleaning meaning.
And you stripped out prejudice - for none
Must exist in poetry,
Lest you close up an open mind
And f**k up as reader;
Lest your heart is not a bleeder -
It has to be - let it flush out
Upon your sleeve.
You lay apart my thinking brain
And let in the literary pickings of a
Great poetic phallus.
Yes, poetry can be callous.
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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With Poetry
With poetry
I have found a purpose
With poetry
things just seem easier
With poetry
words will dance the tango
With poetry
I can put meaning to my thoughts
With poetry
I can ramble on and on
With poetry
everything is easier
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
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I Write In Lead Part 2
You see I write in lead
cause having poetry impact my life
Everyday is empowering
Can't complete a thought 'cause
Before I can access feelings stored inside
My mind is weaving another strand of meaning and context
'Cause Poetry's deciphered my semantic properties
Unraveling down to the morphological units
Unlacing more of me
And that I don't need a pen
To bleed thoughts of truth
Let me know cause I don't understand
Can't put into concrete thoughts
My grasp of linguistics no longer suffice
To decode the relationship between
Mind and hand
pen and poet
Carefully marking down gibberish
Only understood by the two
I guess that's how it works
Some things have no outside reason to stand
But the only one that comes from within
An I write in lead cause
I can't get out the right pattern of words
I keep erasing
Always in search of a better way
To state how it is that I
am processing poetry
I don't want to use pen
cause fact of the matter is poetry
Shakes the profound core
My factory of thoughts
Engraved permanently in paper
Leaves no space to illustrate
How poetry pushes me to the edge of language
And then I realize
The edge is more like an extending bridge of vocabulary
I can continue building letters
Making meaning
There's no saying
Where interpretation will stop
That is what
poetry is
Making my hand ache
but the thought of not scribing
Leaves less space
For our bridge to extend
Connect To find a better way
to spill my insides out
Poetry's my speech therapy
Cause the more I interpret poetry's word
the more I record how its being comes forth
tough and registers in a soft key
Through syllables
The more clearly I see
through the lens I read
The world and my synthesis
is me
I want to take all of poetry in
So it lives endlessly in meaning
If the path of our voices crosses only momentarily
I'd like for poetry to still live through my expression
Aiding the love affair of
Mind hand and heart
poem by Samantha Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry To Me
What is poetry to me- it is words of beauty-words of life
Words of love, pain and sacrifice.
Words of showing and growing and needing and feeding
Words of hope and despairs, wanting and cares.
Poetry takes you into the minds of mankind
From days of old to the present time.
Poetry takes you on trips that you've never been before
And opens up every door.
Poetry becomes a longing, a want, a desire, a need
On which your mind must feed.
It becomes a life within itself
And takes you to the heavens and down to hell.
Poetry becomes a flaming desire
And only writing can put out this fire.
I call it my passion while others say it's my obsession
Yet! No matter what they may think or say
Poetry is here to stay.
So many different types of poetry
For the different minds 'you see'.
You will always find one that will give you meaning
From a loving heart to one that's bleeding.
Jump on the bandwagon and take a hold
For with poetry ' life unfolds'.
poem by Louis Rams
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Deictic Prose
Flicking through the pages of endless poetry,
Studying the syntax and etymology.
What does it mean to me
And you? Who is he?
Who is she?
What is the deixis that seems to be?
Each will reflect the simile like another,
The metaphor of one will be of the other.
Though, what is this in literal sense?
The feelings? The meanings? What can we see?
What is the deixis that seems to be?
Each will hold specific meaning,
Hidden by specific reading.
A message is hold
As such, behind the lines,
Beneath the book.`
They think too much of you and me,
What is the deixis that seems to be?
The frozen fire or silhouette ability
The cruel conventions of simplicity
That stare you in the face; in all poetry.
Testing a united purpose; a level of complexity
Leading you to think and feel; to step out of reality
This is the deixis that seems to be,
This is poetry.
poem by Alexander Cartwright
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I'm not really quiet or shy. Ask any of my friends! But I always ground my poetry in life itself. Poetry is an art of language, though, so I am always aware of every word's meaning, or multiple meanings.
quote by Anne Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Muse for Me
My poetry doesn’t rhyme or flow
My poetry has no meaning and no feeling
My poetry has sex and violence written into it
My poetry cares for no one
My poetry is lost without you in it
Save me from my angry thoughts and schemes
I don’t want to be lost in a void where all write is uninspired
Become a muse for me, my poetry
poem by Double A P SS
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Faculty
Sometimes it seems so hard to work out the words,
and then again it seems not hard at all. Just write,
is as simple as that. There are times i can't seem to
work the words, other times the words come up
bubbling in my head with character and meaning.
At times i feel challenged by other writers, and i
begging to doubt my ability to work the words,
i simple read another writer and then i know i have
nothing to be worry about. I understand then that my
contest is with myself and not with other writers.
We all think about the same things, because once
in our life’s we all go through the same situations.
We all have the brain to create anything in our heads.
There’s nothing that i can't do if i focus and if i
don't focus; “you see” this word- focus is meaningful
in some ways, we need the focus, but in poetry we
need more the fantasy in our thoughts, the meaning
to our words, focusing can be important, but if your
head is not in the mood, there’s not going to be any
words bubbling up, even though you don’t need it so
much, because you can create a poem out of anything.
There’s one thing about writing, and reading poetry,
understanding the meaning behind the words.
Every word or phrase has a meaning behind, this is
where readers need to understand; for example-if i'm
drinking away my sorrows, it can mean, crying my
heart out, it can mean, i need to forget, it can mean,
a big hangover, it can mean, sleeping out in the porch,
it can mean, forgetting all you did last night; how many
things out of a phrase. Right know I would just like
to be in my cabin and sit right in front of the fire-place
with a bottle of wine and enjoy my pastoral life while
i write, amazing things.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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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
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The Language Of Poetry Is Metaphor
The language of poetry is metaphor
And irony and ambiguity
And beauty-
Beauty is the language of poetry
And metaphor and irony and ambiguity
And irony -
Beauty is the language of metaphor
And poetry without beauty
Is like poetry without metaphor
Like poetry without simile-
Poetry is poetry
Like beauty is beauty
And metaphor, metaphor
And language language -
Ironically
Without themselves they are something else
Or perhaps another variant of themselves
Ironically.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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A Definition of Poetry by a 15 yr old
Poetry does not need a meaning or defintion.
Poetry is how the reader reads it,
Poetry is how the poet writes it.
Poetry is real,
Poetry is fake,
Poetry is everything,
Poetry is fate.
Poetry is rythm.
Poetry can ryme.
Poetry is anything, I make it mine.
poem by Eric Graham
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How Ordinary Language Becomes Poetic
do not worry about images
leave it to the wise imagination of the reader
do not insult his powers
of extending the meaning of your ordinary language
beyond what you
are thinking or saying with utmost intention to drive your point
the poetry of indeterminacy
the meanings hidden in such plain words
as wolf and sheep
shepherd to this staff
river to stones
and clouds to rain and rain and rain and rain
and yes the trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrainnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,
do not be too concerned
with form, the form comes and takes the shape desire before your eyes
what i am driving at is that
ordinary language becomes too poetic when
you shake because it is a very cold rain pouring in your roof
and you have no one
and you have no other place to go and you cannot call him because
he is too busy with other
matters of equal importance
i could be him and you could be her, in this ordinary language of
disappointments
why we met and why we regret the meeting and union
oh, why speak about something too poetic when ordinary language
can be so poetic
about pain, and hypocrisy, and mendicancy
of emotions, She herself is one of the few constant
features
on that landscape.
Wary, as always,
of holistic paradigms for the literary history
of poetry
dynamic, interactive condition of experimental poetry today
i cannot think
of any other recommendation,
Christian Boltanski's simulated documentaries,
I cannot think of a better introduction
to contemporary
poetry, this, oh,
so you understand a thing?
alright, how do you do?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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