Another nothing poem
Another nothing poem
~
These are just words
Rhyming, walking with rhythm
They do not hate or love
Laugh, cry or shout aloud
They know no malice or jealousy
They just piece together nicely
In a story or a poem
However they are written
Presented on a page
They remain just words
They talk of no living soul
But a fictional character
If one happens to be written
Or a place or feeling
Some may relate to it
You’re free to see what you like
Or dislike in these words
That’s all they are sitting here
Rhyming, walking with rhythm
Across the once blank page
Just another nothing poem
Waiting to be read
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Poem Does Not Have to Rhyme
There are those who think in order for a poem to have rhythm it must rhyme, but a poem does not have to rhyme to have rhythm.
The rhythm comes for the poet’s soul not the rhyming of words.
The rhythm is in emotions that the poet’s poem evokes.
From a soulful cry to feeling of love and from the passion of hate to the awakening of understanding this is the beat, the rhythm of a poem. Now don’t get me wrong if a poem rhyme and has soul it is cool too, but I just wanted everyone to know that a poem does not have to rhyme.
The Poem Was Destroyed By Its Own Words
The poem was destroyed by its own words
And could not be written-
The words were not good enough
The words were not exact enough -
The poem nonetheless wanted to be
It waited in longing for other words-
Other words came
But they were not the poem either-
The poem it appeared
Was never to be -
The poem disappeared
Before it could be written
That poem forever is not
And in its place only these lines
Barely a poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been
THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN
The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let This One Poem Be About Me
Let this one poem be just about me
Let this one poem engulf all my beauty
Let this one poem define my soul
Let this one poem consume me whole
My soul was earth bound
And my heart lay in a place that it would never be found
Let this poem be what entangles my mind
Let this poem be where people will find
They will find that missing link
And this poem it will make them think
They will wonder how this girl came
They will wonder how I avoided fame
I didn’t write these words to please
I wrote these words to tease
My heart it’s the type that beckons for ease
And my taste will not accept the flavor of peas
Let this poem describe me in most simplest of ways
Let this poem show how I get through these days
And I know people will read this and say…
This girl she knew where heart lay…
Let this poem eat me whole
Let me entire heart bleed its luscious love into a broken bowl
My soul wanted only to be free
And this poem only pushed it back into me
I never will lose any part of my soul
Because then this world will swallow my inner being whole
Let this poem be what I hate
Let this poem describe with who I would mate
Let this thoughts become my ways
Let this poem be where I stray
Let this poem show how I lie
Let this poem describe how I will die
Yes I am human I cannot avoid death
Yes I am human I chose not to use meth
These words they dance upon this page
These words they have no age
These verses have lost all meaning
Because I revealed my demeaning
Let this poem describe what I deem right
Let this poem that I will always fight
My age floats through these words
And people will never understand why I want to be heard
Let this poem be only about me
Let this poem be what sets me free
And I know some day people will look at this and say…
This girl, this girl she knew exactly where her heart lay…
poem by Victoria Martinez
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A poem for you...
I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Life Art
Life Art
I want to write you a poem.
One that contains no verses
no words
how long it will be
I cannot tell.
It will be a poem that you can see through
yet it will shade you from the sun
a simple lyric
as complex as a crossword
I want it to be something
that you carry through your day
every day
I don’t know if I can write that poem
Or if indeed that poem can be written at all
So instead I am with you
Of you
And slowly together
we are writing our very own poem
Not on a page
Or in a lost notebook
But in the café
and in the street
At a table
In our bed
Every day we add another line
another image
another verse
and I know that with every word that we write
I want it to be the longest poem
That has ever been written.
poem by Andy Houlihan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written
THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poetry Has Gone Out Of Me
The Poetry has gone out of me
I am as blank as prose-
There is no force of feeling in me
Flat as a lox my words on the page-
I am the middle of the Midwest
Going on and on on the surface only-
I have no inside-
No wind shakes me-
Words are words and only words,
Detached from all emotion-
How flat stale not even weary and unprofitable can a blank confessional poem be?
The feeling of being without feeling
No feeling at all.
A lox inside and a lox on the page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem To Break The Silence
I WANTED A POEM TO BREAK THE SILENCE
I wanted a poem
To break the silence
Of my own inner emptiness-
No thought no feeling
Blank inside-
These words too flat and emotionless
Strive to move me back to myself-
But there is nothing in me now
But the waiting to be ‘real’ again-
I am alive now
But I am nothing inside-
Blank words trying to be a poem-
And lines written as if I were only
A slave of the idea
of my being somehow
a writer of Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am a poem
I am a poem,
A rhythm, a line,
Elaborated in time.
I am a poem
A work of art.
Fragmented heart.
I am a poem
A piece of a whole
Measure of a soul.
I am a poem.
A fraction of a story.
A meaning, with a glory.
I am a poem.
poem by Josh Alfred
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Should Not Be Written-When One Is Waiting For A Bus
A POEM SHOULD NOT BE WRITTEN-WHEN ONE IS WAITING FOR A BUS
A poem should not be written
When one is waiting for a bus
And simply trying to pass the time.
It should be written in solitude
After deep reflection
Ripeness as all
The falling fruit-
But this poem
Knows no ‘should’-
Knows only the long desperation
Of the happy holiday day-
Writing the words down quietly-
As if anything and everything I have to say
Is really
The poem I have religiously long waited for.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Poem Which Is Not A Poem
THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM
There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
Its heart is too much in thought.
It does not sing us to somewhere else.
There is a poem which is not a poem
Prosaic confessional flat,
Its says its single thing from the soul
And leaves the page without implication.
How many such poems have I written
As I write this one now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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The Music Is Gone
THE MUSIC IS GONE
The music is gone-
What is a poem without its own music?
There is no melody in me.
I hear these flat words form on the flat page.
There are no dimensions to me
I hear no singing as I write.
This poem is words with little feeling
A flat poor poem written by an old man
Who this morning
has not yet truly woken up.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Song Of A Rhyming Man
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.
I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.
You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme
poem by Francis Duggan
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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