The poets confession
The book is my bind
And the words my oath
The poem my life
And verse my bride
It is to my work I’m wed
To who I give my all
What love can contend
To that I once dreamt
I have known and loved
My every muse
And spoken to none
Not once did I confess
My heart unto them
No I stayed my tongue
Kept still my words
And in a madness
I wrote this world
I am a tale of my own creation
Bound to the book
The poets confession
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Book Of Love
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Who wrote the book of love
Well, Ive got to know the answer
Is it someone from above
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
Baby, baby, baby
I love you, yes I do
And it says so in this book of love
That Im the one thats true
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
Chapter one says you love her
You love her with all your heart
Chapter two says youll never
You never, never... never gonna part
Chapter tree, remember
The meaning of romance
In chapter four you break up
Oh, wont you give me just one more chance
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
I wonder who
Who wrote the book of love
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Little Wise Pink Book.
Oh! The wise little pink book,
Which contain the wise words and pictures,
Where my love lies,
And ma heart lay its head.
How shall I forget about you?
You the mother of ma heart,
Oh! My heart soothers.
Which soothes every pimple that causes agony in ma heart.
You’re my photos album,
when I want to see ma boom,
You contain pictures of ma heart,
From head to toe,
I love you so much, little pink book.
You’re my dictionary,
Whenever I need any love word’s meaning,
Ma love encyclopedia,
To calm my psycho-phobia.
I love you little pink book,
You have been the source of my comfort,
When ma heart was in trouble,
I can’t forget about you,
Little wise pink book.
You are everything,
You are the promise we make,
A phone-family we set-up,
Oh! Little pink book,
You are the CPA of our love.
I love you little pink book.
My eyes shall not let down,
Neither will my heart fail you,
For your words pass through my eyes down to ma heart surpassing my brain,
I love you, little pink book.
My life is yours, little pink book.
poem by Constant's Laiv
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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!
Working on the value of words
Working on the value of words
~
some words require more
more than being spoken
written, read or listened to
some words need feeling
given their own soul
a touch of emotion
some words fall easily
across the page
or off the tongue
like a catchphrase
meaning almost nothing
words without value
spoken to be heard
said and not listened to
or written and missed
all without feeling
give words emotion
soul, fire and life
give words value
work the next line
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Philosopher
“Those who speak know nothing;
Those who know are silent.”
These words, as I am told,
Were spoken by Lao Tzu.
If we are to believe that Lao Ttzu
Was himself one who knew,
How comes it that he wrote a book
Of five thousand words?
No Poem Is An Original
No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.
Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.
Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.
Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.
Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.
So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.
wrote 2-2-07
The Chornicles of a Dark Heart Part 12 Two Sides to Every Story
I dared to say those magic words ('I love you')
As people passed by in herds
you looked a little bit confused in our silence contest
But this is where the poem changes.. takes an unexpected turn
I guessed what you would say and that i would burn
But you didn't...? you smiled and you drew closer...
closer... thats how you glided forward and whispered to me 4 words
unlike my 3 words the ones that were spoken were like birds
I couldn't believe how happy i was...
I put my arms around you because
because those 4 words.... were 'I love you too'
are just what i needed to hear...
I silently knew my own thoughts for once! !
who knew the open book could read i knew that 'I loved you'
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Provisions
Oil, wine and some fruits;
And to reassure your sweet love with my muse!
But i met you in am open field last night,
And i will look after you with my love.
Provisions and gifts,
In the open fields of love and care;
But i will surely deliver you with my love,
And like the muse of joy in the land of plenty.
Provisions, soon, son, sons, vision, visions, in, pin, poor!
And all around with the muse of your love;
But write down the words that i have spoken to you in a book,
For my joy is like the muse of the rainbow seen around.
Provisions, on, no, pros, sin, sins, ion, ions, is, in, pins!
But the life of a hunter is like the life of your muse;
And like the joy of your love as seen around,
Because i am ever ready to share my mind with you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The poem
I wrote a poem that didn't
ryhme,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love
more than life,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love more than life,
of which she did more than like,
the poem was short,
repeated myself alot,
but the one I loved more than life,
felt that love is like the poem I wrote,
full of joy and full of hurt,
the poem I wrote when I was full of hype,
coz the one I loved more than life is the one that now fills in my life all gaps,
the one that brings me up when am down,
a smile on my face from a frown,
music to my ears when we talk,
love in my heart when I'm near,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme for the one I love more than life.
poem by Kennedy Musyoka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Awaiting inspiration
Awaiting inspiration
~
What would I not give for the company of the muse
When poetry fills the air and heart it sings
Oh beautiful night bring to me the divine
Let me become inspired and driven to pen
Those ideas and stirrings I would feel
The words spoken and written in ink
Preserved upon the page in crisp verse
Oh bring to me the inspiring muse
I wait with impatience to feel alive
What worlds the minds eye travels to
In a journey of passionate thought
An emotion sewn into a story book
A portrait enraptures so easily
What would I not give for such presence
The company of a muse this evening
Oh beautiful night while you rain down
Bring to me the inspiring light
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Book Of My Life
Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book I'm afraid to write
It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And it's all there to see as the section reveals
There's some sorrow in every life
If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days
I'm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life
There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
There's a page where we fail to meet
There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned
There's a chapter on god that I don't understand
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Now the daylight's returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all that's left is you
Though the pages are number
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Masterpiece
It's slim and trim and bound in blue;
Its leaves are crisp and edged with gold;
Its words are simple, stalwart too;
Its thoughts are tender, wise and bold.
Its pages scintillate with wit;
Its pathos clutches at my throat:
Oh, how I love each line of it!
That Little Book I Never Wrote.
In dreams I see it praised and prized
By all, from plowman unto peer;
It's pencil-marked and memorized,
It's loaned (and not returned, I fear);
It's worn and torn and travel-tossed,
And even dusky natives quote
That classic that the world has lost,
The Little Book I Never Wrote.
Poor ghost! For homes you've failed to cheer,
For grieving hearts uncomforted,
Don't haunt me now. . . . Alas! I fear
The fire of Inspiration's dead.
A humdrum way I go to-night,
From all I hoped and dreamed remote:
Too late . . . a better man must write
That Little Book I Never Wrote.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
So Many Words Of Love Have Already Been Written
So many words of love have already been written
Why should my poem for you be anything new?
It is true I loved you very much
And for years was deluded in the joyful thought that you loved me
I wrote of course words of love to you
But they are lost like most of what I have written-
Do I still love you now
So many years after we truly loved?
I loved you with the total obsessive love of one for whom the happiness of the other is the only meaning of the world-
Now I am old and far from even true remembrance of the love
that once was my life
And where you are in your soul I sadly do not truly know.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Memoriam
Looking some papers over,
Dusty and dim and old,
I found some words that thrilled me
With their ring of genuine gold-
Words that were better than rubies,
And they stirred me even to tears,
For the hand that wrote them has rested
Under the sod for years.
O name to be spoken softly!
O sainted Thurlow Brown!
The world lost one of its heroes
When he dropped the cross for the crown.
And the cause he loved and fought for
Lost more than my tongue can tell
For he left no soul behind him
That could do the work so well.
When I think of his mighty labors,
My own seem weak and vain,
And I know that his place in the vineyard
Can never be filled again.
But the burning words that he uttered,
Or that dropped like coals from his pen,
Shall live for ever and ever
In the hearts and minds of men.
O God! if spirits do ever
Come down from heaven on high,
Let the spirit of this great hero
Sometimes be hovering nigh;
And give him the power to guide us
In all that we do or say
For the cause he loved and fought for.
Oh! grant it, Lord, I pray.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem Especially For You
I write this poem,
Especially for you.
Hope you like it too.
I love this poem,
Hope you love it too,
Especially for you.
I love you so much that,
I Dream of you every night,
Especially be with you.
I write this poem,
Especially for you,
To remember your loving smile.
Give me your smile,
Give me your cheerful face,
Give me your Laughter.
Only this poem can,
Take your heart away.
Especially made for you.
I say this poem,
Especially designed for you,
In remembrance of our True friendship.
In this moment of life,
I share this poem
Especially with you.
In this precious memory,
I want you to know that,
I forever love you.
To say the right words,
At the right time;
Especially for you, is hard.
More than any right words,
I composed this poem,
Especially for you,
So that the world may know that
I fall in Love with you again.
Especially with you.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For All The Poets
FOR ALL THE POETS
This is a poem for all the poets who have no name,
For all those who have written and failed,
And for those who have not written,
And failed.
This is a poem for all the poets who dreamed themselves poets,
And were never, and will be known as poets
To the world.
This a poem for all those
Who after years of effort
Still live in an oblivion
They will die in.
This is a poem for all those
Who whether they have poetry in them or not,
Will never be heard or read,
For what their hearts must tell
Someone else.
This is a poem for all the silent poets
Those who live in silence
And whose silence is eternal
For all those whose only poetry
is the poem they have lived within themselves.
This is a poem for all those who would- be poets
And a poem for those
Who despite their efforts
Did not make their poem known.
This is a poem which may be for you,
And I know is for me
A confession
To make us less alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The first book I wrote was The Bride Price which was a romantic book, but my husband burnt the book when he saw it. I was the typical African woman, I'd done this privately, I wanted him to look at it, approve it and he said he wouldn't read it.
quote by Buchi Emecheta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!