To Friedrich Holderlin, poet
Here in this river valley below the Alps
which mimic high Olympus’ watching spirit,
everyone’s a silent poet of nature:
lakes; rivers; green fields; steeper goatfoot pastures;
forests; bare gaunt rocks and snow;
and the poetry of seasons of the year.
Once to see the seasons through, is to be
a little nearer God; to know
how gods measure out the earth.
Here inside the wooden room,
the measures, not so clear:
measured out by sterner, darker gods
whose seasons are not so predictable:
storms, tempests, thunder, flood
may last until we learn
lessons we do not yet understand.
Outside the window now
the last rays of evening sun catch
the metal spire of the nestling church;
its metal lightning conductor running
down its walls to that patch of earth
whose signs of scorching warn the devout soul..
Here inside the room, the poet too:
aspiring spire, lightning conductor;
rattling between heaven and earth,
torn by view of outside, inside..
Poets are only responsible to their words
when lining up their obstinacies
in the mind, on paper:
after that, must send them on their way:
the words mean more, or less, than the poets knew
while writing them; someone else may make
better use of them. This too,
the measure of the gods, of God.
*
Friedrich Holderlin, bi-polar poet-philosopher,1770-1843; correspondent of Goethe, inspirer of Rilke, subject of much discussion by philosopher Martin Heidegger.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Potential Poetry!
Love has no fear whatsoever in the world;
Poet does all by his love of all matters here;
Poetry is inspiring words of poet for all!
What's not possible by poetry is nothing!
Impossible is expressed in possible words
Making unknown known by poetry only!
Forms and style are poets own creations;
Poetry is ever new in expression of ideas
Inspiring all to be enthusiastic, enlightened!
Love of Nature, life, beauty and love poetry
Explores always deep to express truth new!
Poets are gods of Earth to men to new realm!
Poetry briefly converges all in a nutshell
As powerful as atomic energy in control!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Gods Made Heavy Metal
In the beginning there was silence and darkness
All across the earth
Then came the wind and a hole in the sky
Thunder and lightning came crashing down
Hit the earth and split the ground
Fire burned high in the sky
From down below fire melted the stone
The ground shook and started to pound
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We are the true believers
It's our turn to show the world
In the fire of heavy metal we were burned
It's more than our religion it's the only way to live
But the enemies of metal we can't forgive
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
We're here tonight for heavy metal are you ready in the hall
They have chosen us and we have heard the call
Gonna tear the roof off with our sound
Crack the walls and shake the ground
Fight tonight for metal one and all
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Not The Poet's Poet But Perhaps The Would- Be- Poet's Would-Be Poet
I AM NOT THE POET’S POET BUT PERHAPS THE WOULD- BE- POETS WOULD – BE –POET
I am not the poet’s poet-
The one poets of name and fame admire-
But perhaps the would- be- poets would be – poet-
Who tries to be a poet
And tries to understand what it means
To love poetry and live by writing it
Even when the world does not recognize me..
.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Rivers of a Poet
The Rivers of the Poet
The verses of the poet
vary from the rivers
though they also flow
while circulating inside
until materializing
in words and verses
that others can see.
The poet’s soul communions
with the exterior world
and flows like the rivers
with each inspiration.
The rivers of the poet
do dry inside of him
as he writes,
but it is forever
that they flow in written form
upon the sheets of paper.
That is how
the rivers of the poet
leave and manage to stay
until another river
appears and flows
with another inspiration.
poem by Juan Antonio Rodriguez
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Poem about Poetry - what is not poetry
writing lines
not like a child
writing lines
robotlike
hitting at keys
rather than own heart
writing lines
throwing words
which are yet
our friends
words picked
from thesaurus
dictionaries
for word's sake
an alley of prostitutes
we treat as our wives
godless
writing as if
the world
possesses
no soul and
god, the real poet
who spares symbols
for his creation
trees, lightning,
thunder
for poets
to colour their world
to see the other side
of the world
how the trees, lightning
thunder
are a part of men
themselves
described,
the trees - spring of youth
lightning - rage
thunder - warning
the warming effect
god's verse to men's uncaring verse
misinterpretation of his symbols
god the leading poet
the world a repository of symbols
for his masterpiece
a masterpiece
we could only admire
the real poet leaves us
something to ponder about
and to add a verse or two
to his work
like the almighty poet
who when he likes
answers us back
in riddles
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Dreams of Poetry
Some men dream for fortune,
others dream for fame.
Some to go where none have been,
most dreams are all the same.
Some men dream of lovers,
so do some for hate.
Many dream to die in peace,
and be let inside GODS gates.
Men do dream for peace on earth,
a son born first in birth.
Many still do dream has children,
and want their moneys worth,
But me I dream of pleasure,
for men who read my words.
I dream to be poet,
a poet whom is heard.
Heard and loved and wanted for,
what lies inside my heart.
When I dream of anything,
poetry is where it starts...
poem by Ken Bennight
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The poet's page
Like a band of beggars
Revealing to each other
Where to find the bread
Is the poets page
An open line
Where poets reveal what's
Inside their heads
A platform of
Artistic exchange
Where an accompany of poets
Express what should be said,
As the
Words seems to take on life
For they are poet read
Poets can feel one anothers pain
As well as relates to each
others shame
Emphasizing on a topic is
A poet's personal lane
Poets dvides the spoil
As they expand, due to
sharing their gain
This is partly my analogy
Of a poet's fame
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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To the spirits of Abn 'Arabi, poet, and Averroes, philosopher
The philosopher asked the poet,
Does what the poets and the mystics
find in their hearts, agree
with what the philosophers have discovered
or reasoned to be true?
The poet answered
Yes, and No
and between the two
is a place, a space, where
the mouth is silent,
the pen hovers poised above the paper,
the eyes sparkle,
the heart leaps and rejoices,
and the mind soars on journeys
beyond anything that was known before
and lives experiences never before experienced;
finds words behind words
that were never spoken before,
sounds behind sounds
never heard before,
a knowledge beyond love,
a love beyond knowledge..
a place where poets and philosophers
meet together in a world of wonder.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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World Poetry Day
In the starry darkness of the night sky
The inspired poet’s rhymes fly.
They are quietly dreaming to live in a book,
For everyone to see the poet’s outlook.
Poet’s stanzas freely fly as rhymed constellation,
Spreading the light of the poet’s inspiration.
So, today, on World Poetry Day, my congratulations
To all those who know the sense of trochee and pentameter,
Who would like to see our Earth as a safe shelter,
Who are married to the muse and are never confused
To write and to show, even in a gloomy day, the bright way.
I therefore wish to all the poets:
Do not lose your inspiration!
Lyric is your revelation!
Let the round dance of words
Live with you as a favor of Gods!
Express yourself for Humanity
In the moments of creativity.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
The 21st of March,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Metal Militia
Thunder and lightning the gods take revenge
Senseless destruction
Victems of fury are cowardly now
Running for safety
Stabbing the harlot to pay for her sins
Leaving the virgin
Suicide running as if it were free
Ripping and tearing
On through the mist and the madness
We are trying to get the message to you
Metal Militia
Metal Militia
Metal Militia
Chained and shadowed to be left behind
nine and one thousand
Metal militia for your sacrifice
iron clad soldiers
Join or be conquered the law of the land
What will befall you
The metalization of your inner soul
twisting and turning
On through the mist and the madness
We are trying to get the message to you
Metal Militia
Metal Militia
Metal Militia
We are as one as we all are the same
fighting for one cause
Leather and metal are our uniforms
protecting what we are
Joining together to take on the world
with our heavy metal
Spreading the message to everyone here
Come let yourself go
On through the mist and the madness
We are trying to get the message to you
Metal Militia
Metal Militia
Metal Militia
song performed by by Metallica from Kill 'Em All
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Is Heaven
My daughter asked me: daddy where is heaven?
I thought about this very carefully
asking myself the same question.
Then the answer came into my mind
Like a bolt of lightning.
Heaven is god, and god is heaven.
When we commit ourselves to god, body and soul
Then we are in heaven, because heaven is in us.
Yet when we fail to see what is in front of us
And what’s in our hearts, that’s when we are blind.
For god is in our hearts, and heaven is god.
Just look around at all that he has created
Then look into your heart and
see the beauties inside and out.
Why would god create the universe and the world
And not have created a heaven within us.
We are gods most beautiful creation
And he gave us his only begotten son
To show us the way to heaven.
Now many say that heaven is in infinity
and infinity has no beginning and no end.
and hell is here on earth, and some say it’s below the earth.
Now it is hard to believe that god
would make this beautiful earth as hell.
And if it was under the earth, where is the fire and brimstone
When we dig so deep into the earth searching for oil.
Heaven is in our love for god while on this earth
Then we go to his kingdom in his total heart
Where it is infinite.
This is where I see heaven my daughter.
It’s in all of us who believe in god.
poem by Louis Rams
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A Spirit Of Poetry!
when a spirit of poetry decent,
it came
In a form of dove
When it came
Jesus became first poet under sun
And Almighty God
Was already, first poet over sun?
Using Poetry in poetic foam
Almighty GOD spoke through poetry
And he is a poet himself
Now his poetry is everywhere, and anywhere
We interact with poets
Words are like soil, are everywhere
Brighter that Sun
His poetic lights lead the way
When he likes
He will come
He will be in poetic foam
To Re-arrange poems
Schedule them in a poetic manner
On a judgment, He will met poets first
And secondly meet
Those who haven't written a poem
To Discuss similes, metaphors and personifications
Future of poetry is in heaven
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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My Spine is Thy Flute!
I adore you,
Not thy adornments,
my heart loves thee,
And not thy attributes,
o, master poet,
The power of your words, when words flow from poet,
thy powerful mind behind his
thoughts, Stopping the storms,
When you steer the ship,
over high waves,
I am not afraid of tidal waves,
Lightning and thunders,
Sleeping under your wings, O master poet,
without uttering a word, ,
Without writing a line,
but make poets sing and joyfully
write,
I love you thee, When you hold my hands,
No fear of fall,
Even if I fall, fall only safe into
your soft and gentle lap! My spine is thy flute,
Thou blow through Chakras,
AUM in different pitch and rich
tone,
My life dances to your tune,
For strains of trifles and for temporal pains immune!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Adventurer of God
They are solid steel, the rocks are built by gods,
Mountains and volcanoes are one, by gods.
Yet we see the lava flow and the abolishment,
To address them is to arrive at and abandon, by gods.
Any geographical feature on the map carries fascination,
One is adventured, one is fine with distortion, by gods.
The map is a remedy for the plain and ill, the happier,
Yellow streams and wooden forests are a distinction, by gods.
Let us laugh and be merry on this whole globe,
Let godliness reign supreme with this incantation, by gods.
The gods are lovable towards their kingdom,
The wishes of the valley are mine in slow-motion, by the gods.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Letter To A Young Poet
Dear Raman, so you want me to read your poem and state my opinion.
Well, you are fond of words and you are stacking them up in your poem.
That is a good thing; clearly you are a man who reads a lot.
So you want to be a poet, poetry is self indulgent’ it never starts a war
nor finished it. Should a poet write something that resonance with,
the sentiment of a nation, you can be sure it will be used by politicians
and interpreted for their dubious plans.
So why don’t you become an engineer or failing that, a cook. The world
doesn’t need, anymore academic poets who forever repeat what poets
of yore have said. For the people a poet is regarded as a figure of fun
who spends valuable time putting useless words together to make sense
of a world they don’t understand. As my father said when I published
my first poem: “How much did they pay you? ” So if my words have not
scared you off you’re a poet. All you need is intellectual honesty.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Poet Writes Of Poems And Poets And Poetry
THE POET WRITES OF POEMS AND POETS AND POETRY
The poet writes of poems and poets and poetry,
And the world goes by
And nothing is done.
And the sky- the sky.
Is it still above?
And Love and Kindness
Are they still deep in us,
Words or not?
Without Poetry the world does not exist for the poet-
But for others,
Dreams have other names,
And Music plays on,
And singing and laughter
Go on as the Beauty of Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Letter To A Young Poet Revised
Letter to a young Poet
Dear Raman, so you want me to read your poem and state my opinion.
Well, you are fond of words and you are stacking them up in your poem.
That is a good thing; clearly you are a man who reads a lot.
So you want to be a poet, poetry is self indulgent pass time it doesn’t
change anything, no one reads it, other than cranky people. Should
a poet writes something nationalistic that resonance with, a nation’s
pride, like: “my country is the best in the world.” He will get a medal.
So why don’t you become an engineer or failing that, a cook. The world
doesn’t need, anymore academic poets who forever repeat what poets
of yore have said. For the common man a poet is regarded as a figure of
fun who spends valuable time putting useless words together to make
sense of a world he doesn’t understand. As my father said, when my first
poem was published: “How much did they pay you? ” If my words have
not scared you off, you’re a poet. The only tool you’ll need is honesty.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Today... 'God of gods
All other gods are created by men
confined to the earth and not of heaven.
They have no power and are impotent.
But Jehovah God is omnipotent
He's the God of gods and the Lord of kings
and of His great glory all heaven sings.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Dead Poet's Harmony
I saunter this earth, in soul's dead
Digesting their beauty and what they said
Poets weaved my fate and mine destiny
With their song and beautiful harmony
I follow them as they follow me
Inside of me, inside of thee
Dead poets live in immortality..
And sing through we for an eternity..
It is in Keats internal rhyme, my poem's enzyme
Yeats Irish mist where my sentiment exist
Shakepeare's sonnets write my life's true love
Poe's raven stalks in the shadows of my woes
And behind Emerson's mind, my mind transcends
And from all Poets pain, my soul descends…
Every song must be sung, and every poem must be shone
As we saunter earth, and resurrect birth
To the dead poet's souls of our destiny
As we all write in their harmony
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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