Don't Shut Us Out
We do not print poetry
The newspaper said
So I burned that paper
Instead
They write about rape, murders and theft
From day to day politics
To the little good will, man does
Are we in a curse
How dare they not print
Our verse
We shall and forever be
A very, very poetic
Society
In our mind, body and soul
So run your papers
Run them in black
Sell them in your box
I'll keep my fifty cents
I'm not coming back
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard
Ugo Print
On Lake Avenue, there is a business owner named Que.
He owns Ugo Print and he has a great crew.
His crew develops, creates and makes a new
your brochures, business cards and letterhead too.
Ugo Print took my artwork and enlarged it for a fair price,
better then Fed Ex, and staff is really nice.
Business cards of mine where printed with a great format,
Ugo Print made it great I can vouch for that.
Embroidery and screen printing Ugo does as well,
they are a full range printing company that does sell,
sell direct mail that makes your business boom,
print with Que who is exceptional and his employees too.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 8,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem about Poetry - Verses in the air
i am a frog
in a well
i have
met no great poets
only read
their works
on paper
stupid
of course
on papers
did they print
their verses
in the air?
but each verse
that flow from their ink
of course makes
some changes
to the world
their verses
float around
help people
discover
a new world
make a new world
for some
and complicate
some worlds
which ever group
you belong to
About Tu Fu
inspired by
I met Tu Fu on a mountaintop
in August when the sun was hot.
Under the shade of his big straw hat
his face was sad-
in the years since we last parted,
he'd grown wan, exhausted.
Poor old Tu Fu, I thought then,
he must be agonizing over poetry again.
Li Po
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Don Not Be Confused
it is not the body
that we laundry
it is not the body
but the soul
that we purify
it is not the body
that you can
prepare like washed
dishes for your
next dinner
it is not the print
on the paper
but the thought
it is the dream and
not the sleep
it is the grasp of the
the divine
not the hold of something
bovine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Machine made Elegance.
My father wrote in copperplate.
His beautiful calligraphy
I daren’t attempt to emulate
A task that’s well beyond me
Each letter was formed perfectly.
His grammar perfect and his prose.
Time was not a luxury.
Which was a factor I suppose..
My handwritings illegible.
To any one, sometimes to me.
I tend to hastily scribble
my thoughts down as they come to me.
But my P.C has changed my style
I can print out with clarity.
My poetry in a short while.
A blessing it has proved to be.
I was never taught to write
At least not write properly.
But I can print to my delight
and that is good enough for me.
The old ways change and we move on.
Although not always for the best.
Perhaps its sad that time has gone.
Now copper plate is by request.
Computers make it easy to
present hand written poetry.
In any font as we all do.
Which certainly impresses me.
15/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Thought Print, Life Print
from time print
comes thought print
and from there life print
and from there
every person's
chance to relive
a million times
easy as the sun rises
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One of the reasons I started Tzadik, which is my own label, is to keep things in print. I got tired of labels dropping things out of print when they don't sell.
The Silence Of Edgar's Mind
Edgar had an evil approach
to his writing and to his
poetry that he composed
inside his mind and on
the paper that he wrote
upon.
His characters inside
his stories and poetry
had a shattered affect
that seem to have consumed
his mind as he wrote inside
the silence of his mind.
The silence of Edgar's
mind, gave him the evil
and the turmoilless thoughts
that shaped his short stories
and poetry into what it became
today.
But when i read his
poetry i can feel
his tortured soul
having so-much contorl
over him, that him
begins to battle
with his chastisng
emotions and his soul
That was forever making
him write the poetry
and the shoet stories
that he was chosen to
write until the end of
his life that he lived,
As he found himself
so desparately etched
with the loneliness
of being who he was as
a person.
As i got inside the
silence of Edgar Allan
Poe's mind i found a
constant struggle of
selfless-convictions
coming undone before me
as i read his work out loud.
poem by Erie Morganmaples
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Richard Cory
They say that Richard Cory owns one half of this whole town
With political connections to spread his wealth around
Born into society, a banker's only child
He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory
The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes
Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show
And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh he surely must be happy with everything he's got
But I, I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory
He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch
And they were grateful for his patronage and they thanked him very much
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:
"Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head"
But I, I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Richard Cory
They say that richard cory owns one half of this whole town,
With political connections to spread his wealth around.
Born into society, a bankers only child,
He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life Im living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard cory.
The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes:
Richard cory at the opera, richard cory at a show.
And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh, he surely must be happy with everything hes got.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life Im living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard cory.
He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch,
And they were grateful for his patronage and thanked him very much,
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:
Richard cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life Im living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard cory.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Wanting To Forget
The Modigliani print was on the wall
By the front door. Who’s she? Bridshaw’s
Dame asked, pointing at the print.
It’s a painting by Modigliani, Bridshaw said.
Is he a friend of yours? The dame asked.
Bridshaw pulled a face and said, No, he’s
Dead now. Shame, she replied, stroking
The print, her finger tracing the woman’s
Outline, her tongue hanging out of the side
Of her mouth in concentration. She’s a bit
On the thin side, the dame said, and I don’t
Like the black coat she’s wearing, like some
Darn widow. Bridshaw wanted to get the dame
In bed for sex; the Modigliani print was no
Big deal, he’d bought it in some art shop on
The high street from the guy with the Boston
Tones. Shame he’s dead, the dame said, he
Could have painted me; I would have made
A good model, more meat on me than that
Woman in black, thin as a pole. Bridshaw
Nodded his head, Sure, sure, but you’re too
Late, the guy’s dead, now can we move on,
Get a drink, hit the bed, have sex, and then
A cigarette. Sure, the dame said, moving away
From the Modigliani print, taking the image
Of the woman with her, not wanting to forget.
poem by Terry Collett
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Accuracy is to a newspaper what virtue is to a lady, but a newspaper can always print a retraction.
quote by Charles Revson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Accuracy to a newspaper is what virtue is to a lady; but a newspaper can always print a retraction.
quote by Adlai E. Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wise And Good
'O father, I saw at the church as I passed
The populace gathered in numbers so vast
That they couldn't get in; and their voices were low,
And they looked as if suffering terrible woe.'
''Twas the funeral, child, of a gentleman dead
For whom the great heart of humanity bled.'
'What made it bleed, father, for every day
Somebody passes forever away?
Do the newspaper men print a column or more
Of every person whose troubles are o'er?'
'O, no; they could never do that-and indeed,
Though printers might print it, no reader would read.
To the sepulcher all, soon or late, must be borne,
But 'tis only the Wise and the Good that all mourn.'
'That's right, father dear, but how can our eyes
Distinguish in dead men the Good and the Wise?'
'That's easy enough to the stupidest mind:
They're poor, and in dying leave nothing behind.'
'Seest thou in mine eye, father, anything green?
And takest thy son for a gaping marine?
Go tell thy fine tale of the Wise and the Good
Who are poor and lamented to babes in the wood.'
And that horrible youth as I hastened away
Was building a wink that affronted the day.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Richard Cory
Say that richard cory
Owns one-half of this here town
With political connections
To spread his wealth around
Born into society, a banker's only child
He had everything a man could want
Power, grace and style
But i, i work in his factory
And i curse the life that i'm livin'
And i curse my poverty
And i wish that i could be
Yeah, hey i wish that i could be
Lord, i wish that i could be, richard cory
The paper's print his picture
Everywhere he go
Richard cory at the opera
Richard cory at the show
And the rumours of his parties
And orgies on his yacht
Heart and soul he must be happy
With everything that he has got
But i, i work in his factory
And i curse the life i'm livin'
And i curse my poverty
And i wish that i could be
Yeah, wish that i could be
Lord, i wish that i could be, richard cory
He freely give to charity and had the common touch
They were grateful for his patronage
And thanked him very much
So my mind was filled with wonder
When the evenin' headlines read
That richard cory went home last night
And put a bullet through his head, hu
But i, i, work in his factory
And i don't dig the life i'm livin'
I curse my poverty
And i wish that i could be
And i wish that i could be
Well, i wish that i could be, richard cory
Yeah, i wish that i could be
Lord, i wish that i could be
Yeah, i wish that i could be
Yes, oh i wish that i could be
Just like richard cory
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As long as I don't write about the government, religion, politics, and other institutions, I am free to print anything.
quote by Pierre Beaumarchais
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One-newspaper towns are not good because all the surviving newspaper does is print money. They make 25 percent on their money every year, and if they go down to 22 percent, they start laying people off.
quote by Pat Oliphant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Writing Break
I sit and write
Literary expelling my mind
On thoughts and feelings
In words I sometimes reflect
Seeing my every image
My pretence of character
Both good and bad staring back
Between the lines of the page
There in stories made up
In verse I see captured
Broken up pieces of myself
That others may relate to
Its all a humane experience
Literary coming off the page
In poetic dedication
I sit here and I write
Feeding my obsessive addiction
Now back to writing
poem by Matthew Holloway
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~ O' Poetry I Read I Write ~
~ O' POETRY I READ I WRITE ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
29 December,2009.
Poetry ~
I read I read I read
Without asking,
Knowing why?
Poetry ~
I write I write I write
Without asking,
Knowing why?
O' Poetry ~
Read n’ write
To share
Dare n’ bare,
Don’t care
Love to dye
By
Hi and fie.
.
O' Poetry ~
Life I buy
Never sell bye bye
All I’ll do until I die
Lo! I’m no hi-fi.
----
Copyright reserved by the author
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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A list of some observation...
A list of some observation. In a corner, it's warm.
A glance leaves an imprint on anything it's dwelt on.
Water is glass's most public form.
Man is more frightening than its skeleton.
A nowhere winter evening with wine. A black
porch resists an osier's stiff assaults.
Fixed on an elbow, the body bulks
like a glacier's debris, a moraine of sorts.
A millennium hence, they'll no doubt expose
a fossil bivalve propped behind this gauze
cloth, with the print of lips under the print of fringe,
mumbling "Good night" to a window hinge.
poem by Joseph Brodsky
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