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
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Silence Between
the silence between
words being written and read
seduces the mind to think
thoughts of creation anticipate
the blank canvas of the mind
which mirrors the open soul
calling out to listen
to the sound of pen upon paper
a mind at work
is a beautiful thing
and in writing seductive
words flow into sentence
a verse crafts itself
to be seen, felt
all in the aftermath
of the silence between
words being written
words being read
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Muse Is Free
I swim in the glimmers on the rivers muse
There I muse of love and love muse of me
In muse is ecstasy
my muse is free.
I lay by the brook, the muse's brook
And thirsty, I get up, to get a little drink
When I look, I see, I think
A beautiful Muse and my heart is shook
I dwell in a soul, a soulful muse
And to its harmony my soul withdrew
To the trumpets of muse the song of blue
My soul a muse, I always knew
I smell the odor, of muse's incense
In its torpor my body sleeps in my soul
And I smoke the smoke of muse intense
I laugh at myself amusingly droll
With my muse's nymphs we love in Hellas
Naked and free in the republic
Of beauty and art of love's Bellas
We love to we're entirely love sick.
My muse is free from the Devil's temptation
My Muse is free from God's judgment
My Muse is my only wordly nation
My Muse is a dream, I live, I lament
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Fear Through Words
It is through fear I write this
Through fear I dare not speak these words
Or name the muse of who I pen them to
I hold a gentle and honest love to my heart
Such a love as yet untried and unknown
What good are my words when I cannot speak them
To my muse so beautiful so sweet, so divine
I fear I may lose them so completely
That I stay silent, bide my words so well
And watch with abject despair
My muse, object of my whole desire
Grow more distant with each passing day
And I fear I may lose all together
By speaking these words, these cursed words
I asked myself once, what I search for
Is it what I want or what I need in life
And there I saw my muse, a world of beauty
More than I could imagine or ask for
A gentle heart and loving nature
Those warm soothing eyes I look to
Do not see me as I would wish
I fear if they were to, see my innermost soul
My passion and my love for them
They would turn away and be lost completely
Which is why I write with fear
These words I dare not speak
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode X: To The Muse
I.
Queen of my songs, harmonious maid,
Ah why hast thou withdrawn thy aid?
Ah why forsaken thus my breast
With inauspicious damps oppress'd?
Where is the dread prophetic heat,
With which my bosom wont to beat?
Where all the bright mysterious dreams
Of haunted groves and tuneful streams,
That woo'd my genius to divinest themes?
II.
Say, goddess, can the festal board,
Or young Olympia's form ador'd;
Say, can the pomp of promis'd fame
Relume thy faint, thy dying flame?
Or have melodious airs the power
To give one free, poetic hour?
Or, from amid the Elysian train,
The soul of Milton shall i gain,
To win thee back with some celestial strain?
III.
O powerful strain! o sacred soul!
His numbers every sense controul:
And now again my bosom burns;
The Muse, the Muse herself returns.
Such on the banks of Tyne, confess'd,
I hail'd the fair immortal guest,
When first she seal'd me for her own,
Made all her blissful treasures known,
And bade me swear to follow Her alone.
poem by Mark Akenside
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Talking River
I hear the river
Words flow down the pebble creek through my heart
Defy my understanding
It comes from unknown source, and
Proceeds to unforeseen destinations
It mirrors everything in my life, and says
It’s okay to make mistake sometimes
River passes us by, and
Flow on to other places
So often I listen to it for a second
Hold the words in the palm of my hands
Before it slips through my fingers
Always the river
Remind me love and hatred has no end
So are words has no limits
I will listen to what you say, and
We listen to the river again
The talking river holds its promise
Its steady flow forgives all blemishes
Its current washes off sinking debris
Cleanse our heart as we listen to it
Verses From God
I’m just the pen; God is the ink, Who fills me as I write and think,
And God’s ink never runs dry, as it flows from His Spirit on high.
Penning verse that never ends, as He talks to a world of friends,
As I go to God in prayer, He pens down each blessing and care.
In a trial God helps me through, He pens verse to share with you,
And the blessing He brings my way, as He helps me, day to day.
As I write every word and line, I do not claim the verses as mine,
For as the pen to page is pressed, it is my heart that is blessed.
Blessing seem to come my way, as He helps me, in what to say,
To illustrate to all those who read, that Jesus is The Lord indeed.
His Words just seem to flow, not knowing where His idea will go,
But His point He makes every time, as God speaks on each line.
He draws from deep inside, my heart, where His Scriptures hide,
Always used at the proper place, to pen down a verse of Grace.
And as the page begins to fill, it is not my poem, but God’s will,
That fills lines with His Word, which some who read, never heard.
It’s God above who fills my pen, with words for the eyes of men,
By means of only poetic verse, to claim victory, over sin’s curse.
The page is filled by God above, with true examples of His Love,
Penning Truth for men to see, He’s a God who loves you and me.
(Copyright ©08/2007)
Sonnet 12
no sport lending play nor giving mind diversion:
all faculties dead to present, future, and fate:
will unformed and bent to no inspired reason:
disbarred from freedom, in isolated restraint:
dull soul in solitude confined to prison:
no company to silence by visitation made:
alone with heart bereft of will and passion:
in solitude soul to single soul betrayed:
all alone with self and my own soul,
a narrow world in which no love revolves,
in want of wisdom and acting the fool,
no key turns and self no solitude solves.
physician love! creator of this mortal speck,
heal your creation! evil infection i detect.
poem by Doug Bentley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love, The Soul Of Poetry
WHen first Alexis did in Verse delight,
His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk't,
And now and then a little Proudly stalk't;
But never aim'd at any noble Flight:
The Herds, the Groves, the gentle purling Streams,
Adorn'd his Song, and were his highest Theams.
But Love these Thoughts, like Mists, did soon disperse,
Enlarg'd his Fancy, and set free his Muse,
Biding him more Illustrious Subjects choose;
The Acts of Gods, and God-like Men reherse.
From thence new Raptures did his Breast inspire,
His scarce Warm-Heart converted was to Fire.
Th' exalted Poet rais'd by this new Flame,
With Vigor flys, where late he crept along,
And Acts Divine, in a Diviner Song,
Commits to the eternal Trompe of Fame.
And thus Alexis does prove Love to be,
As the Worlds Soul, the Soul of Poetry.
poem by Anne Killigrew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Confusion
Here I am, a poetic soul lost within the confusion of fairy tale romance.
Here I am, a prophetic soul lost within a realm of ever dancing shadows.
Outside the world is waiting still, there she lay upon the hill beckoning me,
Painting flowers blue and grey, there she lay, awaiting the sun to rule the day.
The clouds are blanket comforts, offering shade at the most poignant of times,
This world is mine for a while, a bubble un-burst reflecting auras of emotion.
The sky is an ocean deep; the sky is beckoning sleep beyond the call for weeping.
Earthed through the act of breathing alone, I know my soul to be growing through
Rooted to the home I know so well as my sanctuary. Soon I am to leave,
Soon I am to breathe again the world anew and know a city green as my asylum.
I am a man who would seek to know you if I did not believe that I was already
Doing so through growing to know myself. I am a man who may never place
The voice of my heart upon the shelf and though ignored at times the calling of
My soul is ever present. I am a dreamer through and through, I have no excuses,
And through dreams I believe that a new heaven, a new reality is revealed.
I am a man who wishes to fulfil the potential of his love, his source. I am a man
Divine as you, I am a man divine as all of your creation. I am an honest man
Though at times confused.
Within a realm of unfolding visions I rest before drifting
And I perceive you in the most feminine of manners, a long flowing emerald gown
And you offer me your hands. This I'll never understand and your name I dare not
Seek to know, but to know myself and flow as I grow I seek, throughout the realms
Of sleep shade shadows.
I am a man of imbalance, I am a man of obsession, I am a man of dream time bliss.
I am a man of many thoughts, I am the man whom cupid caught, wounded here I lie.
I am a man of the sky, I am a man of the fire, I am a man of ecstatic desire though at
Times it takes all my energy to respire, towards unity I aspire, through a balance of shades.
I am a man of patience and I inhabit a world surreal. Who are you?
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Words
Words have the power to heal.
Words have the power to destroy.
A Wise writer uses them carefully
As sometimes they flow
As if they know in themselves what it written on your soul
Yet at times they must be calculated
Never cold but well thought and warm with a love of warm vibration.
If you find the subject of your desire,
If you seek and find what it is that you truly wish to write of
Then your heart will release the blueprints,
Flow will those words like the grandest cascade
Of nature’s showcase wonderment
Leaving you lakes of beauty to wade through
As you forget the shade
Baked beneath Apollo’s kiss
Ah, Bliss!
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's On Again
[Verse 1:]
The places brings back memories
as I walk by quiet streams
The caress of a wind blowing over me brings a chill to my skin
Whispers that go through the trees
And a hush comes over me
No way to fight the rush
Can't escape how we touch
[Bridge:]
As the cherry blossoms I slowy start
to remince the love we made
I can feel you in my arms
Gotta run to you
[Hook:]
I keep having these visions of you
Breaking me off like a lover should do
Remember the love that we made in the rain.
Then it's on again.
Video plays all over my body.
I hope sex is all over your mind
The catches may change but the secret's the same and it's on again
[Verse 2:]
The secret place you touched me in are unforgetable ain't no way I can ease all the visions of you
Our love's so unbelievable
You touched me softly, deeply like a woman needs
All I want, all I breathe even though I am...
[bridge]
[hook]
[Verse 3:]
Walking through quiet places brings back memories of the love we shared.
(remember that time by the waterfall)
Lost in those faded pictures (faded pictures)
Sexy whispers and then I know it's on again.
I know it's on again...
[hook]
song performed by by Olivia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The One That Got Away!
I tried! I tried! I tried my best! The words I can't recall...
I know those words were truly blessed, they were incredible!
They came within a midnight dream! I'm here at 1 a.m.
My pleasant mood became extreme, 'I can't remember them! '
The dream began and she passed by, my Muse with words so wise...
At first, her beauty made me sigh, with smiles that filled my eyes!
I tried to write the poem down... I thought I caught each verse...
She spoke so fast I had to frown, things went from bad to worse!
When I woke up, some words remained, just fragments, nothing more,
Just phrases from the poem gained my Muse chose to outpour...
But then a haze dwelt in my mind... A scrabbling for the rest...
But finally I couldn't find the words that made me blessed!
Then anger flooded in my heart! A river full of rage...
Although I tried to make a start, I hadn't filled the page...
I prayed to God! 'Please help me, Lord! Don't let this poem fade! '
But silence fell, I stood ignored, forlorn, bereft, dismayed...
That's when I grabbed the negative and turned it all around!
I gave it all that I could give, new poems to astound!
I wrote all day, I wrote all night, a hundred poem's done!
Forget my Muse! I did all right! Boy, what a marathon!
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let It Flow
Another wave has arrived
Being funk is so surprise
Welcome the world of xtc
When the funk takes over me
No need to try to run away
The funk will find you the mail today
Its best if you relax your soul
Grab someone, take the floor, let it go
Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow(whatd you say)
Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow(in your heart and in your vein)
Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow(free your mind)
Did you ever make it stop?
Feel it groovin hard within
Body is shakin and heads in sea
Why would anyone dare to deny it
Funk is fine, dont try to fight it
The funk is the epitome
Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow(whatd you say)
Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow(in your heart and in your vein)
Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow(free your mind)
Did you ever make it stop?
Dont you part with it
I devoured it
You can work with it
You can part with it
Satisfaction guaranteed
Giveem folks what they need
What you need is indeed
A little funk from ev
Now hit me
Sounds so funky, youd agree
Funky divas in 3-d
Let if flow
Did you ever make it stop?
[rap]
song performed by by En Vogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Three a.m. Burst
I was woken in the early hours of this morning
by an overwhelming mental burst.
My mind bombarded me with random words
and compelled me to write poetic verse.
Words were branded upon my thoughts,
like initials on the hide of a steer.
But then strings of words in a jumbled mess
in different colours began to appear.
Like calculated numbers, words fell into place
adding their value to the score.
Another sentence brought another verse,
which begged for even more.
By breakfast time the burst was over,
the words had been laid to rest.
Several pieces of paper had been filled,
and my mind had been freed from stress.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Emell
This muse of love is like how to write a song,
This muse of care is like how to write a poem,
This muse of peace is like how to write a stroy,
This muse of joy is like how to write a book,
But, i am now delivered with the muse of your love!
Because, i now live in the land of your muse and,
You are called Emell.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Harmonious Triolet
Who’d flow through harmony no rage
should know, nor need safe haven seek,
no anger [l]inking daily page.
Who’d flow through harmony no rage
should breed, enroll, fear soul in cage,
should heedless channel tension’s [s]peak.
Who’d flow through harmony no rage
should know, nor need safe haven seek.
(20 June 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Terse Verse
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
In my soul thou so give
And on its worth my life I live
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Love is a morsel of thine treasure
In one ounce is my immense pleasure
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Sing like a muse
and in poetry fuse
my soul into verse from beauties purse
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Writers block
At times I say to my pen
write dear pen
and scribble or scratch,
but whatever you do
write down words
and make sweet poetry
out of them.
But the pen lies silent
as if it’s ink is dry,
like a broken violin
that cannot play anymore.
So I go to my thoughts
and say think dear man
and dream and sing,
but I have forgotten everything
and every hymn
that I use to know
is gone out of my memory
as if it never was there.
So I try to dream
and to see pictures
of scenes of how
the words in the poems
should be,
but they grow stretching
away from me.
So I talk to my Muse
and no Muse answers me,
but when I pray
a thunderstorm flashes past
and words comes gliding down
like drops onto a thirsty soul.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!