En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Realization

An idea came to my mind,
I went inside to find
A paper and a pen
And sat down in my den.

The pen moved on
I don’t know when my maids were gone.
After I had poured out my heart,
I looked at the paper with a start.

It was tear stained
Outside it had started to rain.
Some unseen power had guided my hand.
I had just begun with a thin strand.

I walked around perplexed,
I hadn’t known this is how I felt.
How foolish to think I had written it.
God, you only know how I feel in the pit
of my belly. The sense of me, I am the doer,
evaporated, as I read the poem over and over
again. I am not as articulate and lucid.
I can’t string the words in such a fluid
way. Thank God, for helping me know how I feel,
And showing me a way to deal
with pain, sorrow and grief.
I don’t have to worry as long as I believe
I am you, you are me.
Though the naked eye can not see.

poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper Boy

Roy orbison
I walk down to the blue side of town
Where there's no happiness, no joy
Down at the end of a long dark street
I saw a little paper boy
Paper boy paper boy
I've got bad news for you
Paper boy paper boy
Me and my baby are through
She was my love my one and only
I feel so bad i'm oh so lonely
I'm looking for my love
I've got my own headlines for today
They've been the same since she went away
"one dark haired angel disappears
She's been missing for a million years"
Paper boy paper boy
So long goodbye
Paper boy paper boy
Thanks for listening while i cry
I feel a little better now that someone knows
But i will go on looking forever, i suppose
I'm looking for my love
Extra extra read all about it
My baby's gone and i wanna shout it
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love....

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Need to Write

I need to write a poem, but how shall I do it,

First of all shall I write standing up, or just sit;

Until I get comfortable, I won't be able to start,

All the words will be muddled up, and then it'll fall. Apart.

Now! I got it right, I will choose the title to write about,

No good getting frustrated, or even sit or pout;

Just need to relax, and then the words will come easy,

Cause if I try to hard, Then my stomach will feel queasy.

I know what sort of holiday would people like,

And as I start the poem, the hall clock did strike;

Oh! It is now is what I can do, write about the time passing,

And so I have the heading, the thoughts on paper lasting.

It's got colour, size, And description, and the taste of art,

It's come from my mind, emotions, and also from the heart;

It has vision, and thoughts about where I want to go,

Yes! I think it'll get some to agree, to me they'll show.

So if you have a problem to write a poem or story,

Just read this poem, as a help, it's a help from me;

Don't force the idea, or rush it through at all,

Just go have a cuppa, read an article or a friend call.

Eventually it'll come, the words will flow along,

You might even end up, turning it into a song;

Writing poems will be rewarding, just give a go,

And you might enjoy it, they may end up in a show.

poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper Thin

There could be this kiss between us
you and I too
would want it to be memorable
but how to make it so
or predict soft lip outcomes?

I would want the feel of you against me
and you?
I would want deep ocean eyes
to skinny dip in
and you?

It is the giving I crave
the willingness
and the lostness of you

within me
and within you.

Perhaps you would like to feel
the hardness I'd give.

Perhaps you would like to feel the power and
a shared sense of powerlessness we'd generate
and mutually melting hearts.

You could step one step closer here.

I'll not move
because that would prick the mesmorizingh
I'll not speak
since words distract from our body talking
which is dominant here.

So here we have the who is kissing who
I you,
or you I,
or we;
the taking and the savoring
the giving and the needing
the breathing and the breathless
the indefinable mix.

Mystery here
is paper thin
a heart away
and mixing
panting hearts and destiny
mine
and yours.
But thought is the least of it
because your lips
stroke my kiss
and I am lost
and the reach of it
is here on paper
paper thin.
Should one kiss
poetry?

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Fluid

emotions you must realize are fluid
and they flow sometimes misguidedly
sometimes blocked and
dammed and you see
a jail, a cell, a wall, an island without a bridge
a sea without a boat
a rainy day without any rainbow,

you are fluid, you must realize that too,
you flow, and surge and rage and
fall, sometimes, you splatter
and feel like a splinter
of a hand
grenade.

you feel something that behaves like a river inside you
and you hear the sound of rage, sometimes just a hush
or even a rain dropping from the sky to the gutter,
and you feel you're inside this gutter
and you have no control, about where to go and what to do,
this is
what is dripping all about

drip, drip, drip, and you feel this sloshing mind like a slime
getting inside the sensational strips of your throat
like words in your mind
pouring unceasingly, to make this poem.

what is this all about? you pretend to know. What to do about it?
i know you do not really know. Gut it. Gut feel it. Trust your heart.
Let the rage seep in like it is an innate part of you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fluid Emotions

emotions you must realize are fluid
and they flow sometimes misguidedly
sometimes blocked and
dammed and you see
a jail, a cell, a wall, an island without a bridge
a sea without a boat
a rainy day without any rainbow,

you are fluid, you must realize that too,
you flow, and surge and rage and
fall, sometimes, you splatter
and feel like a splinter
of a hand
grenade.

you feel something that behaves like a river inside you
and you hear the sound of rage, sometimes just a hush
or even a rain dropping from the sky to the gutter,
and you feel you're inside this gutter
and you have no control, about where to go and what to do,
this is
what is dripping all about

drip, drip, drip, and you feel this sloshing mind like a slime
getting inside the sensational strips of your throat
like words in your mind
pouring unceasingly, to make this poem.

what is this all about? you pretend to know. What to do about it?
i know you do not really know. Gut it. Gut feel it. Trust your heart.
Let the rage seep in like it is an innate part of you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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By The River

Words and music by bob seger
I was walkin by the river
I held my hand out to feel the rain
Just a light rain
Almost a sun shower
Makinall things shine again
And I felt like I belonged
I felt so strong
As I walked on
There was rhythm
And there was order
There was a balance
There was a flow
There was patience
Indulgence
There was a power
I could not know
And I felt it all made sense
The innocence
The permanence
I took my young son to the river
I held his hand out to feel the rain

song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vellum

I write my name down on paper
paper that has a unrealistic desire
to be vellum

I read what I have written
for a sense of authenticity
more authentic than my image
reflected in a mirror stained with mildew
and toothpaste

The words on this paper
anyone can read
bums, whores, addicts,
homosexuals
intellectuals
and the broken old men
whose hope died
in the past

I write
but I don't speak
what I write
details what I see

The things I see
O, the things I see
could invoke suicidal tendencies
in a child who still believes
in Christmas carols
and hunting Moby Dick
whom rules the seas

How tragic it is
to let fleeting imagination
slowly die among the magic spelling
of the words we once spoke
on Christmas Eve

And now I sit
with the adulterated gift
of alcohol
and nicotine
writing down words on paper
whom wish to be vellum
but realistically
could never be

poem by Justin Tallman Gonzalez
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Paper Rain

From miles above
poured the paper rain

Flooding the streets
whiteing out the clear September day
peoples thoughts floated from the hell fire
like paper rain

First like a mist
then like a monsoon
the paper rain spread across the city
engulfing the running masses below
in a hurricane of paper rain

When the storm stopped
and the clouds of fire ceased
millons of unread words litter the streets
like a sea
of paper rain

Swept into the gutters
went the thoughts of the dead
the paper rain gone

Until the next unpredicted storm arises
and the heavens pour down peoples sorrows

ON PAPER RAIN

GOD BLESS ALL THE VICTIMS AND THERE FAMILYS
OF THE SEPTEMBER 11 TRAGEDY

poem by Vincent Armone
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Dead And Gone

In years from now when I am dead and gone
Will people read the words that I had wrote
If they do will they agree with what they read
And if so truly, understand the feelings I had spoke.
Will they feel the pain and suffering that I felt
In the many days of my own life
Maybe they will etch my feelings inside their soul
And If so, I wonder for me if they will cry.
I wonder if anyone will go into a deep thought
After reading the words that I had spoke
And then will they think and understand that feeling too
While inside their soul or heart a memory I will had awoke.
Maybe they will be with me in those lonesome nights
When my soul and I felt so very alone
When I couldn't sleep so I had to write
While my soul stayed stationary, but my mind it did roam.
And will they feel the pain that I did feel
With every line that I suffered as I did write
Will they shed a tear that my lover never shed for me
While she was always in my heart and in my sight.
And when they finish my book and close it shut
Will they reflect my feelings as they walk away
Will they say they know the pain that I have felt
As they too had felt it in their very own days.
Will they cry the tears that was never cried for me
As they go searching for my last resting place
To give the sympathy they might say I deserve
While trying to visualize my soul through my face.
If they look and find and then walk unto my grave
I wander for me if i will receive long forgotten grieving
Telling me how sad and the pity they hold for me
After reading my words, maybe they will start believing.
And maybe they will walk to the graves of the others
The ones who did me wrong and who sealed my fate
Who made me the poet whom I had to become
Will they tell them their souls, and living they do hate.
So as I finish writing with these last few thoughts
I hope forever my words and feelings will continue on
As I know I am not alone and my pain is not fastened to me
But really who will know, until I am dead and gone.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Paper

Hold the paper up to the light
(some rays pass right through)
Expose yourself out there for a minute
(some rays pass right through)
Take a little rest when the rays pass through
Take a little time off when the rays pass through
Go ahead and mis it up...go ahead and tie it up
In a long distance telephone call
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on becuase its been taken care of
Hold on to that paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
Had a love affair but it was only paper
(some rays they pass right through)
Had a lot of fun, could have been a lot better
(some rays they pass right through)
Take a little consideration, take every combination
Take a few weeks off, make it tighter, tighter
But it was never, it was never written down
Still might be a chance that it might work out (if you)
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on because itll be taken care of
Hold on to that paper
Dont think I can fit it on the paper
Dont think I can get it on the paper
Go ahead and rip up, rip up the paper
Go ahead and tear up, tear up the paper

song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once Again I Write...

This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
I write to save my sanity.
I write to ease my heart.
I write to cleanse my soul.
I write to feel alive.
I write to keep my mind strong and my thoughts clear.
I write my words of sorrow, despair, pain, and love, as well as words of wisdom.
I write so that one day someone will truly know me.
This paper, this pen is once again my inspiration.
It is the inspiration to what I see.
It is the inspiration to what I hear.
It is the inspiration to what I feel.
It is the inspiration to the art I create.
It is the inspiration to what I draw.
It is the inspiration to the love for my daughter.
It is the inspiration to the love for my husband.
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
Once again I write to say thank you my timeless friends.
Thank you for saving me time and time again.

poem by Sara Jo Andrews
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Something Better Beginning

They said this was the last dance
The lights went dim as I looked round the floor
Then I saw you standing there
Then I walked up to you and I asked for this dance
The band had started to play
I held you hand and I sighed
Is this the start of another heart breaker
Or something better beginning
Something better beginning
Something better beginning
I never thought Id love like this until I met you
I found something I thought Id never had
The only time I feel all right is when Im with you
I wonder how long it will last
I walked you home in the night
The moon shone bright as we walked hand in hand
Ive known this joy once before
But it came to an end just as it had began
Each step that I took with you
Brought one thing closer to my mind
Is this the start of another heart breaker
Or something better beginning
Something better beginning
Something better beginning

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hand Over Fist

Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
Cut the paper to the bone
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
And the rock must stand alone
I could disappear into the crowd
But not if I keep my head in the clouds
I could walk away so proud
Its easy enough if you dont laugh too loud
I thought I was okay alone
Wait for the postman and the telephone
Lost in a world of my own
I thought I could run alone
Thought I could run through the night alone
Hand over hand
Doesnt seem so much
Hand over hand
Is the strength of the common touch
You talk as we walk along
You never imagined I could be so wrong
Humming your favorite song
You know Ive hated that song for so long
How can we ever agree?
Like the rest of the world
We grow farther apart
I swear you dont listen to me
Holding my hand to my heart
Holding my fist to my racing heart
Take a walk outside myself
In some exotic land
Greet a passing stranger
Feel the strength in his hand
Feel the world expand
I feel my spirit resist
But I open up my fist
Lay hand over hand over
Hand over fist

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written in Black Ink

Upon
The tear-stained
Paper

She writes

Writes,
Her story

Her experiences
Her life

Written in
Black ink

Upon
The tear-stained
Paper

She writes

Writes,
Her sorrows

People she lost
People who are gone

Written in
Black ink

She writes for
Days and
Days

Until
At last
Her masterpiece

Is finished

Her eyes Begin to
Close and
Oblivion Takes hold

And when she
Awakens
Her story will be written

Written in black ink

poem by Autumn Winds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why I write

I used to feel, like a pain is in my heart.
When without saying a word, u depart
Here I m alone, remembering our memories
Had so much left to tell you my life stories.

As an alternative of you I started talking to myself
Not that good idea but still it was little relief
Not for long that idea worked, if It was too much miss of your.
Thought of writing my felling so I took a pen and paper.

Started writing stories n poems about my felling
And things that I had always thought of telling.
I feel I m near to you and with you I m talking
That's why I write. Even if my writings are not good and boring..

poem by Sushanta Rokka
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Only Desire Will Not Work

Only desire will not give good start
Feel from inner depth and start
Poetry and emotions start with tears
That speaks of your anguish to bear

Make those feeling to be heard in words
Do nothing and wait for blessings from the lord
Words have powerful impact
That makes you to cry with skill and art

You need no pen and paper
That may be like words on water
It may go away with one fresh wave
Nothing will remain in mind for others to behave

Inject emotions that must look real
Undergone with sufferings while making deal
It may then be felt by others same as you
This is principle when you are writing true

You need not ask how they feel about poems
Let it come in form of few words by them
Simple acceptance of facts may certainly make the space
You may then have satisfaction with bright shine on face

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Piece Of Paper

A diploma hanging on the wall
is really not you at all.
It's just a piece of paper.

A marriage certificate in your file
of when you two walked down the aisle
is just a piece of paper.

A birth certificate, signed and sealed
made you legal but concealed
that it's just a piece of paper.

A death certificate proves you're gone.
The truth is you've just moved on.
It was just a piece of paper.

All these papers that yellow with time
were really not worth one thin dime.
They were just pieces of paper.

Your life was never all those things.
Your life was when you took on wings
and soared with love for all.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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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
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The unwritten is also there

a blank paper
limitless as space
to fill the knowledge
here and beyond
and words of God
here, the learned plot
the stars, moon and universe
day and night

to the untutored
the blank paper might
as well be carrying space
limitless, enthralling
yet not fathomable
reachable

the blank page
catches the
essence of the mind
the written is there
the unwritten also there
if you could read
between the lines
if you could sense
the universal mind
the waves at sea
afford only a little view
of the power of the wind

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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In A Combo State Of Mind

How do I feel,
About what has been done?
And who did what to who and why?
Who deceived and who told lies...
And who denied with alibis?

I'm not surprised by the showing of your interest.

I feel this...
May they get what they deserve.
And may it be served as it was presented and dished.
May those involved find it to their taste.
With an acknowledgement that what one puts out...
It will return to the doer to have the doer remembering the deed.

How do I feel,
About what has been done?
I have no regrets.
I am not the doer to receive,
A retrieving done of a passing along of misdeeds.
Of course I am feeling blessed and pleased.
You can say I'm in a combo state of mind.
You know...
I want to sing AND dance with a bit of grinning too!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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