Optimism In Jail
my dear comrades
send me only the books which write sadness
and then end at the end happily
let the aeroplane land on the airport safely
let the doctor emerge smiling from the surgery
let the blind eyes of a blind child open and see immediately
let save the teenager from being shot
let the longing lovers meet
let us arrange a wedding and a feast
let the thirst reach the water
and the bread reach freedom and liberty
my dear comrades
send me only the books writing sadness
but at the end end with happiness
things they write and say
ı hope
will come at the last moment..at the last instant
to realness
Nazı m Hİ kMET Translation metin SAHİ n
poem by Metin Sahin
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Related quotes
Dear Colette
Dear Colette,
I want to write to you
about being a woman
for that is what you write to me.
I want to tell you how your face
enduring after thirty, forty, fifty. . .
hangs above my desk
like my own muse.
I want to tell you how your hands
reach out from your books
& seize my heart.
I want to tell you how your hair
electrifies my thoughts
like my own halo.
I want to tell you how your eyes
penetrate my fear
& make it melt.
I want to tell you
simply that I love you--
though you are "dead"
& I am still "alive."
Suicides & spinsters--
all our kind!
Even decorous Jane Austen
never marrying,
& Sappho leaping,
& Sylvia in the oven,
& Anna Wickham, Tsvetaeva, Sara Teasdale,
& pale Virginia floating like Ophelia,
& Emily alone, alone, alone. . . .
But you endure & marry,
go on writing,
lose a husband, gain a husband,
go on writing,
sing & tap dance
& you go on writing,
have a child & still
you go on writing,
love a woman, love a man
& go on writing.
You endure your writing
& your life.
Dear Colette,
I only want to thank you:
for your eyes ringed
with bluest paint like bruises,
for your hair gathering sparks
like brush fire,
for your hands which never willingly
let go,
for your years, your child, your lovers,
all your books. . . .
Dear Colette,
you hold me
to this life.
poem by Erica Jong
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Liberty
On my books and poetry,
On my desk and on the computer
On the sand and on the beach
I write your name
On all the pages I have read
On all the blank pages
Stone bloody shed or ash
I write your name
On my greedy, tender friends
On my comrades, beloved country,
On my clumsy hands
I write your name
On my health and wealth
On the risk which disappeared
On the hope without memory
I write your name
And by the power of one word
I begin a life again
I was born to know you
To name you.
Liberty
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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The Blind Couple
I wanna write this poem
with my long black pen
I like this pen very much
ı ts writings
why I cannot understand
my brothers also lı ke the pens too
they are not just pens
they are indstruments brought from heaven
to write your petitions to somebady above
some like it black
some blue
some red
ı always prefer black
why I do not understand
now
GOD informed
at the beginning of the holy book
read....read...read and read again
then comes writing
so ı wanna read the world before writing
universe is not my business yet
look at thgis couple on the pavement
walkı ng cautı ously and care fully
a white long stick in yhe hand of the wife
tapping on the stones
listen to it
a child is in the bosom of the husband
clad clean and neat
you cannat calll them blind
they are walking with the help of god
walking happily
talking happı ly
like singing a hymn
thgey do not need any help
they willl lose lose balance
if you try to help
just watch them
leave them alone
ı try to clean my near sighted eyes
and try to read the far aways
but ı ı nderstand
ı have only read A..B.C..
of the divine alphabet
even them not so easily and clearly
when ı look at this couple
with a child in their bosoms
as their future and hope
ı understand the only
and the bitter truth
they were not blind
ı was the only...the pure blind
ı read it
and then write
poem by Metin Sahin
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Lines
I asked
Happiness
To give me
Some lines
To write
Happily…
It grimaced
And said -
There was
Nothing
In its booty.
It felt so empty.
So to help me
It went out of the way
To borrow some lines
From sadness and gave
Those to me.
So here I am
Writing some lines
To you, borrowed
From my friends -
Messrs. Happiness
And Sadness who
Were kind enough
To lend some lines
To me....for thee....
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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On My Birthday, July 21
I, MY dear, was born to-day--
So all my jolly comrades say:
They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,
And ask to celebrate my birth:
Little, alas! my comrades know
That I was born to pain and woe;
To thy denial, to thy scorn,
Better I had ne'er been born:
I wish to die, even whilst I say--
'I, my dear, was born to-day.'
I, my dear, was born to-day:
Shall I salute the rising ray,
Well-spring of all my joy and woe?
Clotilda, thou alone dost know.
Shall the wreath surround my hair?
Or shall the music please my ear?
Shall I my comrades' mirth receive,
And bless my birth, and wish to live?
Then let me see great Venus chase
Imperious anger from thy face;
Then let me hear thee smiling say--
'Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.'
poem by Matthew Prior
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Dear j
my dear J
Dear Mr J
To dear J,
To Dear J
Dearest sweetest J J
Dear J
Mr Dear J
t
MR. J.A Dear,
Please can you send someone around immediately from your company 'Nifty Pipes and Shiny Taps'
There is a blockage in my.... sorry can't find the right word
Hope you don' t mind me, NOT calling you Dear?
Hardly know you? What? was you're surname dear?
Well thought I better slide it in somewhere you know
Any way yours not [sincerely] or [Faithfully]
Yours most irately customer ref: 143267 lettr QUI
L. M. LEMON
P.S I have friends whose name begins with J I address these people
who I don; t know that well as Dear, hope you don; t mind, ? I think they do, I hardly know them infact from now on I think Dear will be replaced by, 'Not so Dear' JJ? Please let me know your thoughts
they are of [not so] great value to me, you see I am doing a survey on the use of 'dear' AND PLEASE UNBLOCK MY PIPES SOON! ! ! dear!
[not] Yours LEANORA LEMON
poem by Yvette Smith
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I Went To Where The Sadness Is
I WENT TO WHERE THE SADNESS IS
I went to where the Sadness is
And tried to lie down there
But no one heard my cry
And so I went far away-
To a place where there is no Sadness-
And there I simply laughed and sang all day and all night
Until the Sadness came suddenly back to me
And took me into a deeper world I did not love
From where I now write this poem happily.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Did Not Want To Write Poems Of Sadness
I DID NOT WANT TO WRITE POEMS OF SADNESS
I did not want to write poems of sadness
But when sadness takes over one’s life?
The words are what the feelings are
They can try to be better
But ultimately
The true poem is the feelings
And now at this moment
Sadness is the poem
Sadness which waits for the morning light
And prays to God it will be truly ligh
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Losing
Oct 2012
Losing
My love for you inspires me to write poems of love, yet mixed with sadness and sorrow.
Loss and gain of finding and losing, of regret and fulfilment,
happiness and the denial of enlightenment in reality, that I was ment to write for you.
Love, yet not to posses, or to touch.
Only to write of loss and to live in reality, to write of what I may of had...
To write how I sabotaged love.. yet still.. and how I'm too hard to like never mind to love.
Its all written down on paper, in my mind scarred and seared into my heart, im just too out of reach
for anyone to want to....
Loving you, allows me to see this... I have failed...and I thank you for this...
I hope, I'm sure, love will never come my way again.
I write it all down for you,
using red ink.
poem by Jill Laughlin
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The Tears of Masho
She gave her child away
She had AIDS, they say
Her children should have
Parents to care of them
when she by death
should say goodbye to life.
And her dear own child was
sent to adoption
to a far away land, to a land
she had never been before-
A strange paradise
for her child and which
She as mother could not reach
by her bare feet or sandals.
She did not get the
address of the new parents
She could not write
them in her own tongue
She was not even allowed
to see the last glimpse
of her dear own child,
to give her last embrace
and words of goodbye.
And this child, Masho, who
used to be cuddled by her
own dear mother,
cried day and night
in the new land thought to
be a new paradise.
She watered her pillow
with her own tears and longing.
And she could not understand
why she had to leave her
own mother and playmates
in her own village far away
just because her mother
is condemned to die
by AIDS, they say.
_________
Response to the debate of adoption of children in Denmark, to a particular case of the Ethiopian child, Masho. November 27,2012
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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A Gigolo Lies in Wait
He is hit by the beams of her roving eyes
and swept off to the sky by her sensual looks.
But reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
Those who have no feel of love hate the mad guys
who keep open the pages of their hearts' books.
He is hit by the beams of her roving eyes.
The rogues who share the bed where the strumpet lies,
dare to kill the sparrows which chirp by the brooks.
But reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
The poofs and ponces who feel no lovers' ties
live in peace undisturbed by the rabbles' hooks.
He is hit by the beams of her roving eyes.
Her orgling glances are her restless heart's spies
who know not the pangs of a bloke, a girl rooks.
But reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
When armed men mob to lynch, his heart soars and flies.
Gigabytes of news they get from all the nooks.
But he's hit by the beams of her roving eyes.
And reach his ears to her groans and longing sighs.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Reader Meet Author
You dont know a thing about their lives
They live where you wouldnt dare to drive
You shake as you think of how they sleep
But you write as if you all lie side by side
Reader, meet author
With the hope of hearing sense
But you may be feeling let down
By the words of defence
He says no-one ever sees me when I cry
You dont know a thing about their lives
Books dont save them, books arent stanley knives
And if a fight broke out here tonight
Youd be the first away, because youre that type
And the year 2000 wont change anyone here
As each fabled promise flies so fast
Youll swear it was never there
Oh, have you ever escaped from a shipwrecked life ?
So safely with your software, miles from the front line
You hear the way their sad voice sings, and you start to imagine things
Oh, any excuse to write more lies
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing I Write Can Say/ The Sadness I Feel
NOTHING I WRITE CAN SAY/ THE SADNESS I FEEL
Nothing I write can say
The sadness I feel-
The sadness I feel
Is grey as the grey sky
Cold as the dark light
Deep as the Thoughts
I fear to write.
Nothing I write
Can say the sadness I am-
Even an old man
Does not want to die,
And does not want the suffering
That comes with it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sadness Is The Silence That Dare Not Write A Word
SADNESS IS THE SILENCE THAT DARE NOT WRITE A WORD
Sadness is the silence that dares not write a word -
Sadness is the inward pain that aches to be once heard-
Sadness is the nothingness of what one forever is-
Sadness is the emptiness of nothing real to give-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Tis Sweet Sadness
sweet sadness rings the bells of joy,
the plumber and the carpenter bring gifts of hands.
the homeless man brings a star and a feeling,
that no one else could have.
the prisoner brings the wings of the wasp,
the blind man the eyes of darkness.
the cripple dances, the unforgiven bears forgiveness.
and the hungry child shares a morsel of bread.
the weary ones bring the promise of dawn.
the tiny ones...carry the universe.
the dying man brings the value of life,
the addict the hope of a freedom.
and the condemned man brings the hope of justice...
tis sweet sadness that rings the bells!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Extension 33
Living at the y, extension 33,
Nothing to care or to worry.
Once I was in love with a blind man,
But my auntie told me, dont do it, its not worth it.
Living at the y, 33 years,
No one to call or to write to.
Once I was in love with a married man,
But my instincts told me, dont tell him, itll kill you.
Im sad I didnt marry the blind man,
But whats a life with three blind children?
Im glad I never told the married man,
It saved my pride and freedom.
Living at the y, in 33 rooms,
Nowhere to visit or write to.
Once I was in love, it nearly killed me,
But now I have my pride and freedom.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orison (Give me your smile)
Waves meet the end
When the ocean reach the land
Water the sand, before your feet
Two worlds meet
The future is far way, at the end of the world
In the horizon still our wonder
High mountain we climbed
Seek for this secret, far sighted distance
Nothing...Do you see the end? ...Nothing
We can't see the ending of everything
Now we learned, future is unpredictable
Not yet to cherish
Not yet to cry
Look back the past
Broken dreams pull your tears
Don't cry my dear soon it will over
All we got not will always be good
Because, It's not heaven we live on
Always have true hopes, never get down
So smile for a little, keep hopes alive
Chase on the light
In depth of the dark
Could be faint but still bright
Bright and brighter when it's dark and darker
Remember
The past has gone
The future still untold
We need the light to move on
Stay in sadness or seek for happiness
Shed you tears, don't cry my dear
Paradise is not where we living now
To promise you will happy forever
Just give your smile to me
I'll lend my hand for you
We will cross the ocean,
Chase the basement of the rainbow
Till we reach the horizon
The end of the world
If we are the ships, lost in the ocean
All we need, a direction
You as a captain with options
Decide your choice
To sink in the middle or
To harbor your dream
Remember
Far in the ocean
As the waves will meet the end
As it wash the sand
Soon we will find a land
Back home and safe from the stormy seas..
The hope always exist for whom believe it
The dark is forever if we deny the present of the light
-ORISON is the Introduction of my upcoming poems, collectively
known as 'Rise from The Ashes (RFTA) '..and the theme is about to be free.
I try to bring some dark more, but in positive..
it wont be sad as it still come from my hand, Unwritten Soul hahahahaha
Inspired by people, I not promise the collection of RFTA will be good or perfect write coz i am not good writer, i just can offer what i can give, my thought and support..Sorry it this introduction still have some weak somewhere, just write it right now...: P
1st poem from RFTA: End of Time
poem by Unwritten Soul
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A Poem To Change The World
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
A world with barbwire fences
Try to cross and you get stuck
You get pinned and you can’t come back
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would take those barbwire fences down
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
With spotlights that blind rather than show the way
You have to look away
With spots in your eyes you cannot see
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would turn those spot lights away
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
Airplanes that get you there if you can pay the fair
If you’re poor, you will work hard but go no where
Those who fly, are they thankful to the sky
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would make this world fair
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
What is worse is war
And it is over there, where we send our children
There is nothing here but fear
Ya
I wish I could write a poem that make that no more
How much longer will the birds and trees
have to put up with our dirty breeze
All the water in this world
someday none of it will be safe to drink
If I could just write a poem that would clean up this mess
poem by Roger Harkness
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Why I Write?
My child you ask me why
And so I give a sure reply
The reason why I write you ask?
I do so to unveil a mask -
To state a claim my dear
And dry these noble tears at last
The reason why I write
Is to be free -
As that young lad's kite
To flee from charmless grips
And stray from harm's lustful flight
You ask me why I write today?
I do so that you go away!
To a place, within my space
That way I'll have a worthy say
I write my dear to tell a tale
Of places that I once had sailed
The promises that were never had
The eluded dreams that made me sad
The reason why I write a verse
Is to soothe this soul I thought was cursed
To trod with care through lonely roads
And pray my troubles be reversed
The reason why I write to you
Is so you ‘ll see my point of view
That in all things, there is a verse
A spring that takes away all thirst
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
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