The necessity of luxury

and what at some other time
I’d call a luxury – or others would –

it’s not, it’s – oh – rightness -
used rightly...

like now, aslant in the reclining chair,
the patio door open just enough
to bring air into the room,

March air which feels like the most
precious commodity, substance, gift, grace,
where, how, could I say;

and the book of poetry held loosely,
glanced at occasionally;

some phrases, some words, of Tom’s
growing timelessly, flowering,
seeding a generosity of new poems
too formless to call mine

but the warmth of his heart
makes mine to expand, and

boundless now; the mind too, boundless;
a boundlessness of poetry;
then, now, always; so that

in this moment, heart, mind, poetry, boundless,
there’s complete liberation;
beyond luxury, beyond necessity

and poems may or may not be,
for being’s all…

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It Is A Habit

writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry

and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.

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John of Forde, His Exculpation

What I say and what I write
may seem to you – may seem to me –
as foolishness and folly; for
I talk of boundless things, and of infinity;

which by their nature, are beyond
the human mind, the human pen;
should I then not and never speak of such?

Or are these boundless things
just what mankind should talk about –
seeking the laws of atoms, or of space, only
to find the boundlessness yet further off
than men of yesteryear believed?

and if I talk and write – beside those things
invisible as once the surface of the Moon –
then, of the boundlessness of love - which is yet bound
into Creation’s very substance – and
those other boundless things which seem to us
to be Creation's - even the Creator’s - very nature…

then my exculpation is but simply this:
the motive force for what I write,
the theme of what I write, which is
my boundless love for you, for all,
demands, must win, forgiveness
from Boundlessness itself…

there is no more, there is no less
than love, which is true boundlessness.

[adapted from Sermon 43 of John of Forde,1145-1214]

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Poetry On The Chin

You gouged my mind's eye,
Tantalised all inner thought,
Shocked from unknown angles;
Sold me, told me cold,
Unfolded, moulded;
Shouldered any harbouring
Of empty morals.

You spun me round; undressed -
Pestered me with background riddle -
Piffle came to gleaning meaning.
And you stripped out prejudice - for none
Must exist in poetry,
Lest you close up an open mind
And f**k up as reader;
Lest your heart is not a bleeder -
It has to be - let it flush out
Upon your sleeve.

You lay apart my thinking brain
And let in the literary pickings of a
Great poetic phallus.
Yes, poetry can be callous.


Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2010


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Poems About Poems About Poems

Poems about poems about poems-
More poems and more poems and more poems-
Poems poems poems poems poems-
How many poems?
How much poetry
Until there is no poetry at all?

But only 'words' and 'words' and 'words'
Until one goes far away
Where there was never a poem before-
And suddenly hears
“Let there be Light”.

And Poetry perhaps
Is born again.

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Poetry To Me

What is poetry to me- it is words of beauty-words of life
Words of love, pain and sacrifice.
Words of showing and growing and needing and feeding
Words of hope and despairs, wanting and cares.

Poetry takes you into the minds of mankind
From days of old to the present time.
Poetry takes you on trips that you've never been before
And opens up every door.

Poetry becomes a longing, a want, a desire, a need
On which your mind must feed.
It becomes a life within itself
And takes you to the heavens and down to hell.

Poetry becomes a flaming desire
And only writing can put out this fire.
I call it my passion while others say it's my obsession
Yet! No matter what they may think or say
Poetry is here to stay.

So many different types of poetry
For the different minds 'you see'.
You will always find one that will give you meaning
From a loving heart to one that's bleeding.

Jump on the bandwagon and take a hold
For with poetry ' life unfolds'.

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The History Poems Have Not Been Written

The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa

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(V – 2010) To Risha Ahmed

(With Love, Admiration and Best Wishes)

Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
You pen with wit and sanity
Your vision shows maturity
Your diction forces clarity!

Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your rhythm rides melodiously
You rhyme with ease and quality
Your hallmark is spontaneity!

Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your poems voice vocal beauty
Your poems value buoyancy
Your poems come creatively!

Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
You need now learn no prosody
You embody true poetry
Your poetry is really free!

Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your rhymes & themes with time vary
You proceed but with modesty
Your future you can guarantee!

Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your age will grow your ability
Your heart will light your journey, see
Your writings light humanity!

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Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.

Poetry...Poetry...

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Absolute Necessity

Absolute necessity

Is poetry a luxury or one of life’s necessities?
I have to read, I have to write poetry a pure delight.
Other poets inspire me.Exploring the variety
of forms and styles that I can find, serves to stimulate my mind.
I do not claim to be the best I am just one amongst the rest
of poets posting on the net. Who you remember or forget.
Is poetry a luxury the answer must be NO from me.
To some it seems a waste of time to other folks it is sublime.
You are quite free to make your choice. But I will always raise my voice.
Applauding poets who can write fine poetry that brings delight,
Uplift the hearts of other men, more power to the poet’s pen.

27/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers

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If You Hate Poetry

i have read that somewhere,

if you hate poetry
you have to get
this book,
buy it, and
you will love
it.

sales talk.
if you really hate poetry,
why buy
a book of poetry?

you may dislike me
but poems
are nothing but
spits
of something
that you do not
want to stay
inside your throat

all i need
is a little relief
from this
urge to vomit

and here you
are

reading mine.


(i am
laughing)

so do you really hate
poetry?

k, buy that book
you will really
love it
(the book)

and hate the more
what you hated most.

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An act of poetry

Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry

A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art

Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation

Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:

The pen be our salvation.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010


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A Den Of Poetry!

Many poets I see on line today!
For fun many are indulging in poetry;
Not only amusement but also truth
Best ones produce in their poems!

Where can we find quality poetry
In the world poetry website as this one?
All are mixed with each other so much
That it is impossible to separate them!

All funny poems have to be skipped
For reading the really worthy ones!
To do so precious time is wasted
Everyday browsing on this website!

Finding the poetry true is finding treasure
In the depths of this deep poetry den!

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A Definition of Poetry by a 15 yr old

Poetry does not need a meaning or defintion.
Poetry is how the reader reads it,
Poetry is how the poet writes it.
Poetry is real,
Poetry is fake,
Poetry is everything,
Poetry is fate.
Poetry is rythm.
Poetry can ryme.
Poetry is anything, I make it mine.

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The aged poet. For Kealan if

When he was young
and life was poetry
and poetry was life
and girls made poetry
in his heart

he’d showed his poems to
an aged poet who
was quiet a while then
nodded his head and
smiled and
said ‘keep writing’

and he swore that day
as long as he could hold a pen
he’d write some sort of poetry

and so he did and so he did

and when he was
too old to hold a pen
he spoke his poetry
some say in an Irish pub

and people came from miles around
and said sure it was a t’ousand times
better than to read his poems on the page
which was itself worth –
and that last phrase was poetry
for who is not Irish and a poet

and when he was too old
to walk down to the pub

they came and listened
at his door and at his window

and when he was too old to speak
they came to see his silence

and left as poets
for their head
had joined their heart

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Wherever I Go There Are Poems

WHEREVER I GO THERE ARE POEMS

Wherever I go there are poems
Whatever I see is poetry
Poems are everywhere in me
And poetry is who I am -
This feeling in words
That lifts and inspires endlessly
And makes all of life
A gentle happiness-
When it is-

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The Poetry Movement

My poems are not sacred
Not something beautiful
-I leave for the afterworld to admire

They are but products
of my pen and mind
-To stay true to these is all I aspire

I don't believe in elitistic poetry
or the words of the Few and Great
-It is the Poetry Movement I desire

I'd like to scream over the rooftops
'Poetry to the people, Poetry of the masses'
-But I know my written words will reach further and higher

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Words of liberation for my nation

Chains of slavery are still over my people.
Notorious minds still over power innocent minds.
What can free the black child, what can free my nation?
I ask in pain and suffering in the dark jail cells,
What can free me from mental slavery?
How to know right from wrong?
How to think free and build a free society?
The solution is in the words of liberation, the words of wisdom.

I write and recite a revolution, my revolution my poetry.
I do n’t need praises or worship but only recognition and understanding of the people to words of liberation, understanding of poetry.
I stand before you to present poetry,
I stand before you to present the words of liberation to my nation.

Poetry that builds, poetry that destroys.
Poetry that destroyed the impious minds of colonists in Rhodesia.
I speak of poetry that built freedom in South Africa.
When I speak of poetry I mean the true meaning of words.
Words of wisdom,
Words of freedom,
Words of liberation,
Words to free my nation.

The words of liberation to my nation
Words of liberation to free my generation
Poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry.

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A Fate of Top Poems!

Past poets were remarkable by their poems only;
But present poets are made remarkable by others!

Poetry of the past are no doubt top poems ever;
But poetry of the top are not listed in top poems!

Becoming top poets how can theirs have no place
Among the top poems of the poetry list? I wonder!

Touch stone of the top poems depends on merit
But not by the supports of friends for fun ever!

Poems of lasting value only can become classic;
But poems of no merit also have become classic!

Poetry of the past are romantic and also classic
But poetry of the present are neither but modern!

What is the yardstick to select poems as top ones -
Just support of some but not merit and meaning?

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Poetry Is

poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry

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The commandments of poetry

I shall love poetry
For it is the conversation of God
Over my world

This is not a godless art
Though I name no God
I am bearing witness
To Him creating these
Poems

I do not write poetry
To excite myself
I write them
To sustain
My soul

I shall never use poetry
As a pretext
For fame and glory
It is my spiritual
Devotion

Poetry is pure
Virginal
It is not found
In conformity

I shall bring forth my poems
As a mother brings forth
Her children
Out of my own flesh
And blood

This poem shall not be
An analgesic to kill the pain
But it shall be the wine
That puts me to action

Each poem created
Shall leave me humble
It can never equal my dreams
And always inferior
To God’s marvelous
Creations
Always second
To Nature.


Poetry rises from my heart
In these words
And they have no purpose
But to purify

This poetry shall grow
The flowers of compassion
To console
The hearts of the lonely
And those who are lost

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