The Almighty Pen
the pen is mightier than the sword
and stronger than the mightiest men.
with the pen petitions can be signed
it can be accepted, or it can be declined.
the people on death row with no where to go.
they know that the pen can set them free
or put them to death instantly.
you can write your name
or get the autograph of someone of fame.
there are so many things that the pen can do
it all depends on you.
the declaration was written with a pen
the signatures of all those famous men.
for centuries the pen has been used and abused.
it's been used for good and for bad
for happy times, and for sad.
it's been used for letters of love
hate, bitterness, and faith.
the pen and all its glory
always telling the perfect story.
for such a little thing that fits in your hand
it is known through out all lands.
all my poetry is written with a pen
and to me he is the perfect friend.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ramdas Choi Chang Poems 2
Isn't it perfect to think everyone is perfect,
Everyone is perfectly fit
to their own place!
The Great Engineer know which spare can fit,
How to fit
where to fit,
that perfect Engineer perfectly fits everything to His own purpose!
Poem2
Whoever we meet, may not be perfect,
Who ever is perfect,
We may never meet,
Life is that strange thing,
Only imperfect can fit into it,
Whether may it be one or any one around!
Poem3
A flower that looks perfect,
Insects surround it and spoil it,
Below that the frogs wait,
And snake can safely find its food there,
Even the eagle has an eye on perfect flower,
Where it can get some thing to eat!
So, is the story of perfected saint,
Some come to him for their own purpose,
Some start service and service turns to business,
And a saint can be food for thought,
Or he may be source or inspiration to worldly man's business!
Poem4
Men wants to praise,
Woman wants to be praised,
so many write on love,
But no one yet met one's perfect love,
As perfect love is that warmth,
All are dolls made of ice,
And can only melt and flow into lap of love!
Poem5
Nothing is perfect,
No one is perfect,
Everyone can be perfect,
until one continues with a perfect thought that he himself only is imperfect,
As perfection is aim and only aim of all!
Poem6
Infinite particles infinite space,
Infinite time,
and infinite
Thoughts,
I can't find the infinite any where than in me,
When that ant climb on my legs,
Ant came to may ears and said, 'on the tip of my legs infinite bacteria lies '
Bacteria about virus and so on..
I learnt that every thing is relativistic,
Even me and my death are close relatives!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Zero One Slash Seventeen Slash Zero Nine
he does not like to use numbers
and so all his numbers are letters
and all his thoughts in numbers
are written in letters including the
date when his poem is written
making it the very title of the same
and all his emotions are in letters
even though he knows that each
feeling has a corresponding number
and even the colors are numbered
in letters. Blue is the number four.
Nine is class. Forty-seven is pride.
ninety-nine is not perfect and
one hundred is too much for an
old aging man like him who likes
to arrive at zero and then enjoy
his much needed rest. He likes to
be happy and wants to sleep, so he
begins to write, one, two, three, four,
five, six.... and so on and so forth.
autistic savant, they all call him.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Cross-Roads
Once more I write a line to you,
While darker shadows fall;
Dear friends of mine who have been true,
And steadfast through it all.
If I have written bitter rhymes,
With many lines that halt,
And if I have been false at times
It was not all my fault.
To Heaven’s decree I would not bow,
And I sank very low—
The bitter things are written now,
And we must let them go.
But I feel softened as I write;
The better spirit springs,
And I am very sad to-night
Because of many things.
The friendships that I have abused,
The trust I did betray,
The talents that I have misused,
The gifts I threw away.
The things that did me little good,
And—well my cheeks might burn—
The kindly letters that I should
Have answered by return.
But you might deem them answered now,
And answered from my heart;
And injured friends will understand
’Tis I who feel the smart.
But I have done with barren strife
And dark imaginings,
And in my future work and life
Will seek the better things.
poem by Henry Lawson
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A Perfect World
In a perfect world,
Death would never be.
Life would be forever
And last eternally.
In a perfect world
You'd still be by our side,
Lighting up our happy lives.
You never would have died.
In a perfect world,
Sadness would not be found.
Love and life, and happiness
Forever would abound.
We Believe that perfect world
Awaits us when we die.
A world where eternal bliss
Is found in Heaven's sky.
We'll cling to faith and hope,
For God is a God of love.
And then in time we'll join you
In that perfect world above.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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Sorry I Am Not Perfect
I'm sorry for lying
I'm sorry for trying
I'm sorry for crying
I'm sorry for dying
I'm sorry Mom
I'm sorry Dad
I'm sorry for being bad.
I'm sorry not being a good lad.
I'm sorry for disobeying
I'm sorry for being dishonest
I'm sorry for being so churlish
Although I never said sorry
This is one way for being so naughty.
I may not be the perfect daughter.
I may not be the perfect sister.
I may not be even a perfect friend.
But I am not a perfect women.
My body isn't perfect.
My speech isn't perfect..
My work isn't perfect...
Why aren't I perfect?
poem by Monica Rose
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True Love
When I first saw you
You totally blew me away
With your beautiful face and gorgeous smile
It feels like love at first sight
Having you beside me
Makes me a better man
You always bring out the best in me
And that’s one of the many thing I like about you
But some people are suffering because of our love
And I know that I’m the one to blame
Because they say that I’m not good enough for you
That I’m not perfect for you
I know that you don’t want me to go
And I know that you love me just the way I am
But I want you to have the best
For that I need to be the best
Even though fate is breaking us apart
I swear I will never forget you
Because when I think of you
I don’t feel that I’m alone
I just wish we could freeze the moments were together
All the happy memories we had
All the sweetest moment in our life
Even the worst thing we’ve been through
But for now I want to break-up with you
Not because I don’t love you because I do
I just want you and those people to see that I could be perfect for you
That we are meant to be together
I am asking you if you could wait for me
I promise that when I come back
I will prove to you and to those people that I’m perfect for you
I just want you to believe in me
poem by Jhustin Sanao
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Perfection
nobody perfect,
but, yet people try,
strive to be close to it,
but, no matter what,
you will never be,
PERFECT,
facing reality is hard,
but, knowing you can't
have everything you want,
makes it that much harder,
nobody perfect,
why do i have to be?
people seem to point out
your problems you have,
are they just mad that you
accepted your differences,
nobody perfect,
why is everybody obsesse?
we were meant to be different,
why should we change,
when we are perfect,
just the way we are.
5-13-09
poem by Mona Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Be Candid With You....
everyone is looking for
that secret garden
with a fountain or spring
where eternal youth can
be taken
everyone is finding a clue
to that perfect hue
something to subdue, and only for the few
that perfect chew
everyone wants to write
the perfect rhyme of a poem
that gluttony of fame
the avarice of shame
today, i take courage in
facing everyone
to tell them
candidly, that there is no such thing
as a secret garden
or that eternal youth of fountain or spring
nothing about a perfect clue to
a perfect hue,
no such thing as a perfect chew
no such thing too as a perfect poem
with that perfect rhyme
there is only you,
always searching,
the imperfect one, always looking for something
that is not you
that is not here
you are you,
you are not perfect
you get old,
and then you die and
then you're gone
that is the truth,
and there is no other.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Whispers In The Wind [How I Write]
The words I write
Are just whispers in the wind
Coming home to greet me
Like an old friend
Swirling around in my head
Waiting to be set free
From my mind to my fingertips
On paper they must be
Written down before they're gone
Oh Lord how can this be
Word by word they hit the page
In an order I do not know
But once all are written
They are where they all should go
Telling a story in magnificent words that
Jesus whispers to me
poem by David Kush
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Perfect friends.
A perfect friend will love you for who you are
not what they want you to be
A perfect friend tells you if something is wrong
they don't leave you hanging there
A perfect friend never diss you
they should always be there with you all the way
A perfect friend tells you they love you & will listen as you speak
not change the subject and talk about them selfs
A perfect friend can never perfect
but im gonna keep searching til'l i get closer enough.
poem by Jodi maia Maxwell
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A Poem Can Be Written Anywhere, Anytime
A poem can be written anywhere, anytime-
A poem can be written too early in the morning
While waiting in Talpiot for ‘Rami Levi Supermarket’ to open-
It can be written in one’s head in a frozen Army barracks in Beit El
Or in a small room on Rav Berlin St on an old Smith- Corona
In the first happy years of one’s marriage-
It can be written for years from Haganah St. in French Hill
In the family years and the lonely ones
It can be written walking by the sea in Tel Aviv
With small children in hand-
It can be written on the same shore years later when one’s life has been broken
By Love’s desertion-
It can be written in old age on Rehov Shahal in Givat Mordechai
As one takes joy from the birth of one’s first grandchild-
A poem can be written anywhere anytime-
I have been writing my poems in Israel
For more than half a lifetime-
May those too
Who come after me
Read and Write Poetry here.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Perfect Part 2
I don’t need perfect cloth
I don’t need perfect hair
What I need is a confidence
I don’t need perfect score
I don’t need perfect job
What I need is a support
I don’t need perfect word
I don’t need perfect dream
What I need is a chance
I don’t need perfect agreement
I don’t need perfect control
What I need is a solution
I don’t need perfect holiday
I don’t need perfect memories
What I need is a peace of mind
I don’t need perfect home
I don’t need perfect family
What I need is a comfort
I don’t need perfect love
I don’t need perfect life
What I need is an understanding
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Death, My Friend
Death, my friend - so good to see you!
Stand aloft and view my soul!
I have to say you’re looking frightful -
Bony chum, you affable ghoul.
Death, my friend, so charmed I’m sure!
State your case and tell me straight -
Am I worthy of reward, so
Venture I to Heaven’s Gate?
Death, my friend, a new acquaintance!
You're always welcome in my home -
Though the stare from empty sockets
Indicates to Hell we roam!
Death, my friend - my bosom buddy.
My! your finger points at me!
Be you tired of my frivolity?
Aha, I see - Oblivion, we!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Next One
The next one
Will not be like me
I know I have flaws
As you plainly do see
I know I'm not perfect
But I know I did try
But you only see me
Through days of past eyes
I bet he'll be perfect
Say all the right things
Bring you all of the joy
A new relationship brings
Will he open your door?
As 9 years have gone by
When you share your hurts
Will he truthfully cry?
Will his heart stick with you?
Through thick and through thin?
Will he love you through everything?
The good stuff and sin?
Will he laugh at your jokes?
With genuine heart?
Will it last through the years?
Or just at the start?
Will he walk with you
Through all of your dreams?
And make them come true?
As sure as it seems.
If you lay in bed dying
Will he hold your last breath?
Will he love you forever?
Or just until death?
Will he change who he is?
To bring you much joy?
Will he cherish you like I do?
Or are you just a new toy?
Will he do what it takes?
To win back your heart.
Will he try to become
Who he was in the start?
Will he lead you to God?
Will he lead you to Hell?
I guess we'll find out
As only time will tell.
Will he love you like I do?
Through good times and bad?
When your loving or angry?
When your happy or mad?
Will he love you so deeply?
For you will he pray?
When things get real tough
Will he just walk away?
Would he walk through a fire?
Put his life on the line?
Give it all up for you?
Is his love stronger than mine?
Will he dream of a future?
Where you both will grow old?
Will he love you so dearly?
Will his love just turn cold?
If you did what I did
Would you just walk away?
Or stand up and fight on
Each and everyday
I just want you to be happy
So I'll let you go
You truly are worth it
I thought you should know
I will love you forever
After I leave this world
And even in heaven
You'll still be my girl
So now I to move on
Things will be what they'll be
For I know he won't love you
Won't love you like me.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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On The Second Night
i like the
wall
of separation
within it
is the silence
that i could
have written
since
i cannot
speak it
i tried
many times to reduce
the color
of silence
into something
like
black here and
white
over there
i want to capture
it in
some letters
like bars
and rectangles
formed
by my hands
i have never
done so
well
i am not good at
capturing
the perfect moment
it escapes
always it escapes
always
it escapes
because it is
free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Storyteller Poet
I would like to say I am a storyteller foremost,
my poems are stories, like the Poem about the Ghost.
My 'People' poems are a happy story,
poems are never sad, mean or gory.
'Peeve' poems where written when I was mad,
I couldn’t express it to people who made me sad.
Now 'Pet' poems are always happy, funny or cute,
some make you cry or laugh like a hoot.
Now I want to write like C.S. Elliot one day,
maybe before I’m old and grey.
My initials are C.S. or S.C. Suzae or Sue,
one day poets will copy my storytelling poetry style too.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on January 20,2012
www.suechevalier.com www.melodiememories.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Why People Become Poets Poets Dreams
have you ever wondered why people become poets?
poets have been around since the beginning of time
and they have been mostly men, speaking of their loves, life
and emotions.
famous love stories, plays, movies, all seen thru a poets eyes.
just as the centuries have gone by and everything in life has changed
so have the poets.
there is now as many and if not more female poets
than male poets. why? because they are more sensitive to emotions
and are not afraid to show or speak of it, unlike men who want to
show the 'MACHO MAN IMAGE'
poets see life thru different eyes for different situations
and write about it in so many forms, and see the light and
the darkness in everything, including the good and bad.
it may be just one word, or a line, or verse
that enters their mind to start creating
what will become a poem,
what is the poets dream that you will create?
a love story, a sad story, one of fear or hate, or passion
one of beauty, or war.
so many things to choose from- but it doesn’t matter
what you may choose, you must take the first step.
just as reading this is the first step to start on your way to writing poetry
and opening up your mind and soul.
touching other people and receiving comments
and feedback on your writings will help you to improve
on your weak areas.
some people do it because they are looking for fortune and fame
while others want to communicate with others, and others
just to see their names on something other than
a bill being paid.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Woman at the Crossroad Who Laughed
As I walked up the pavement, up the slight hill
to the traffic lights at the crossroads outside the station,
I saw her waiting to cross.
Or rather, I saw first, her laugh..
She held the hand of her son
as she exchanged words with a passing friend
and laughed..
and what I saw in her eyes, her whole face,
as she laughed, was that as she laughed -
(did she know this? How could I tell her, a stranger?
Lady, lady, at the crossroad of our lives,
I’m writing this poem for you now…)
as she laughed, while she laughed,
I saw that she was in touch, the whole of her,
with her deepest self – just that… all that…
and as I saw that self, which was
(Lady, are you reading this?)
the perfection of perfection, all that’s perfect…
it was as if – no, it was just so –
her self looked at me, and so
the perfect looked at the perfect;
herself and mine together laughed,
laughed at imperfection
and as the perfect looked, it saw perfection
spreading through my eyes from our shared self
so that her son was perfect; and her friend was perfect;
and all around us, every they and it were perfect..
(Lady, Lady, at the Cross’s foot,
was it like this for You?)
the light turned green. And we were free
to cross the road; and
free to live; and
free to laugh away illusion; and
free to be ourselves; forever,
in that time which is forever.
Lady, by my faith, this by my hand;
and with my life I do yet swear
upon my life, this to be true;
Lady, hear, in this my orison,
there are no sins
to be remembered.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Where We Stand
[Intro - Chorus]
Is it too soon to love you
Why do I believe it's perfect
Could it be I'm scared to take a chance
Think that we are moving too fast
And I don't know where we stand (I don't know where we stand)
[Faith]
Today you said some things to me
That made it plain for me to see
And now I do believe
That there's a chance for you and me
Elated I would be
If it became reality
I'll put away my fears
Cause only fait brought us here
[Chorus]
Is it too soon to love you
When i just meet you the other day
Why do believe it's perfect
Enspired by all the things you say
Could it be I'm scared to take a chance
Think that we are moving fast
And I don't know where we stand (I don't know where we stand)
[Faith]
It's just a few days but I'm open wide
Or maybe I should take my time
I think where moving fast but I want you bad
My mind is telling me one thing
But my body says another
I wanna be your lover
[Chorus]
Is it too soon to love you
When I just met you the other day
Why do I believe it's perfect
Enspired by all the things you say
Could it be I'm scared to take a chance
Think that we are moving to fast
And I don't know where we stand (I don't know where we stand)
[Faith]
It's hard to figure out
In the back of my mind there's so much doubt
Why do I look for clues
When there's no reason to question you
It's only natural
I Just gotta wait and see
Will we ever be
Will we ever be
[Chorus]
Tell me if it's too soon to love
When i just met you the other day
Could it be that I'm scared to take a chance
Deep inside I don't know where we stand
Is it too soon to love you
When I just met you the other day
Why do I believe it's perfect
Enspired by all the things you say
Could it be I'm scared to take a chance
Think that we are moving fast
And I don't know where we stand (I don't know where we stand)
Is it too soon to love you
Why do I believe it's perfect
Could it be I'm scared to take a chance
And I don't know where we stand (I don't know where we stand)
song performed by by Faith Evans from Faithfully
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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