Massive love poem
I want everyone to know
yeah?
how much I loved you
yawn
and how much I miss you
y a w n...
which makes this, poetry
yy aa ww nn....
and me a poet
y a w...w...w...w...w...n
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Poet Becomes The Poetry
THE POET BECOMES THE POETRY
After years of striving to write Poetry
The Poet becomes the Poetry
No word is not poetry in him
And no silence is not the sound
his own writing makes
Wherever he is
Whatever he does
is Poetry
Mediocre or not
Real or not
Loved or not
Understood or not
The Poet is Poetry
Unable forever to escape
what he Lives.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poetry Of Confession
THE POETRY OF CONFESSION
The poetry of confession -
The poetry of self- indulgence-
The poetry of the ‘wretch con-centered all in self’-
The poetry of moods and feelings-
Of all ideas only as they relate to the poet himself-
The poetry of desperation-
The poetry of need-
The poetry of urgency -
And serving the poet first-
Not enough of the world
Not enough of others- of other perspectives
Not formal and disciplined enough-
The poetry which is not crafted and polished
The poetry in which the need of the poet
Is more central than the quality of the poetry –
The poetry which may be too selfish to be good-
Whose moral failure makes more prominent its aesthetic flaws-
The poetry which is not so good
And not great
But quite banal and commonplace –
A poet can give his life to his poetry
And that still be nothing at all-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As A Child I Loved Poetry
AS A CHILD I LOVED POETRY
As a child I loved poetry,
As an old man I love poetry-
Years of reading poetry are in me,
A lifetime of poetry.
But as a poet,
I am less than what I know from others,
And less than what I would have been-
A small poet
Of small lines
Old and getting older
And still loving the lines
That rhyme inside
And make life more beautiful.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Not A Poet 2
When I feel I am really a poet
I see my flesh is poetry
My pleasure is poetry
My pains are poetry
My feelings are poetry.
Poetry protects me
Poetry teaches me
How to fight back and win.
Poetry is my freedom
Poetry is my independence
Poetry is my flag
And an anthem
Poetry is my prophet
And a messanger.
But I am not a poet
Do not read me
Burn me into ashes
Let there be a flower
From the ashes.
poem by Devil Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Who Thinks Only Of Poetry
THE POET WHO THINKS ONLY OF POETRY
The poet who thinks only of poetry
And for whom Poetry is all of life
May be a poet for poets,
But makes the world of Poetry
Smaller than it should be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
poem by Daniel Romero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Loses His Power For Poetry
A POET LOSES HIS POWER FOR POETRY
A poet loses his power for poetry
He can put down words
But they no longer have poetry in them
Something of the feeling of what real poetry is
is gone.
He strives
He writes again and again
He puts words down in the forms and in the shapes his poems usually take
But he has no poetry in him
He has lost what he is
And all he can do
is strive again and again
Word after word
Silence after silence
To hear within himself again
A voice he does not have.
The poet is writing poetry
And it is not poetry
The poet is dead
And he is pretending to be alive
Is this a poem?
Is he a poet
Is he dead?
Is he alive?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Misses Me
Just last night I got a call
It was poetry saying please come home
I replied back that I am retired and done
It said please, please come back
I miss my king
I miss my champ
I miss my poet that flows like the ocean
I said I would come back but it would take one thing
To have this poem published and live my richest dreams
Poetry replied back
Poetry said give me 3 days and you will be the kings of kings
Now look at us now me and poetry back at it again
Can’t anything stand in our way no man, no woman, and no thing
Take my poem to the heart and realize me and poetry are one
That this is my destiny to be the king of kings
The champ of champs
poem by Terry Coates
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is
Poetry is when she wakes up with a smile on her angel face and says thank you for watching over my breathe all night, its when I hold her and she says I miss missing you even when I’m right there next to her.
Her EYES are the mother of poetry, one of a kind, her SMILE is the goddess of poetry, rare and beautiful, her VOICE is the heaven of poetry, so sweet and gentle.
When she loves me she does so with all the poetry she has inside her, , , everything about her is poetry, her poetry speaks to me without saying anything, it touches me without holding me, it makes me feel even without her near me
SHE IS POETRY IN MY SOUL, IN MY MIND, IN MY HEART.
poem by Tendai Maturure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
poem by Eric Graham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Became His Own Poetry
A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY
A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.
A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard
Ill Love You For A While
(gerry goffin / carole king)
Yeah, I will love you for a while
Just how long I cannot say
Long before love grows old
Ill be on my way
While theres fire in your eyes
I will hold you to my heart
Oh, but when the fire dies
We will have to part
Love is strange
While now it makes us glad
When our loves no longer new
Itll make us sad, yeah
So, I will love you for a while
More than that I will not tell
When I leave you
You will say that I loved too well
Yeah, love is strange
While now it makes us glad
When our loves no longer new
Itll make us sad, yeah
So, I will love you for a while
More than that I will not tell
And when I leave you
You will say that I loved too well
Say that I loved too well, boy
Say that I loved too well, yeah
Say that I loved too well-ell
Say that I loved too well, child
Say that I loved too well
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry and Poet
Poetry is poet's inner world,
Churnings of Self in distinct words;
Poetry is not black and white,
Grey, nuances of diverse hues
In kaleidoscopic word-networks
That capture all formless clouds
In the deep sky of the poet's world.
Poetry is poet's outer world,
His expressions in proper norms;
Bare thoughts, his rogue fights within
Dressed well for the popular nod;
Poet's world, a messy snake-pit,
A burrow of rats, snakes, insects,
Fighting to spring in riotous words,
Filter'd for world in elegant words.
Poetry is never a judgement,
Sheer whispers from heart to heart
Beyond what words do transport;
Words in lilt and dance, poetry,
Links they bond, cadence they ring,
Makes a poetry, a true poetry,
A mirror of poet's inner turmoils,
His hopes and strengths in right words,
Indecisions he suffer, his deeper Self.
Poetry is release from inner cauldron,
Steams from within in guise of words,
Quiet flames of the inner hearth
That flared for long finding a vent;
Poetry, a relief, a joy of sharing,
Sharing the Self with the world outside,
Back to the source from where all came;
Poet is the priest, poetry, his hymns,
Offered to the world for peace and grace.
Poetry sprouts from the morass of soul
And grows out of poet like pipal tree
And outstays him;
Fleeting is poet, but not his poems,
Poetry is the poet universalised;
It sucks his thoughts, sucks his force,
Spreads outwards to enrich the world
And leaves the poet richer and strong
Like fire and good deeds always are,
How much you share, so richer you are.
poem by Praveen Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry, That's What I Write
Parody of the classic song Money, That's What I Want
The best words on the page are here
Teaching you a hell of a lot more about life
Then just the birds and bees
Now you know words of magic
Words of wisdom
Given birth
Right here, right now
Oh, yes
Poetry, that's what I write
My wicked writing should give you such a thrill
So don't be shy
Go ahead and click on this link right here
My poetry won't pay your bills, no
But I can promise to give you some kinky thrills
Now you know
Poetry, that's what I write
Bright and beautiful
Perfect as can be
Poetry, that's what I write
Oh yeah baby
Poetry
Poetry, that's what I write
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I like
Poetry
Oh yes
Poetry, that's what I love
Poetry, that's what I write
Whoa
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Well, now read my poetry
Ooooh, oooh yeah my poetry
Read my
Love my
Poetry, oh yeah that's what I like
What I love
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I write
Yeah
2008 Ramona Thompson
poem by Ramona Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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...
poem by Akash Agrawal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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‘poet's – Pangs’
‘POET'S – PANGS’
esspeecee *
# Phonic diarrhea
With conceptual constipation
Pithead feeling
Paresthetic vision …… Poetry.
# Icteric video
Cacophonic audio
Meshed abstraction
Cobwebbed imagination …… Poetry.
# Puzzling imagery
Robs calorie – noesis
to understand
decode …… Poetry.
# Miscarriage:
From poet’s
pregnant heart
A premature deformed
baby poetry
ICU Rx fails to
make viable.
Regret of the poet,
Want not any more
To be fertile
To womb poetry in heart.
For refuge
Goes into hibernation
To become:
A living fossil ……The Poet. #
Copyright reserved by the Author
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Was A Time / When Poetry Was The Poet's Only Life
THERE WAS A TIME/ WHEN POETRY WAS THE POET’S ONLY LIFE
There was a time
When Poetry was the Poet’s only life-
All that was in his experience
Had its meaning
Only as Poetry.
But when he began to understand
‘Poetry’ had primarily become a ‘means’
For his own Greed and Ego.
Poetry was lost.
But as he was a Poet in his soul,
He and his life too were also lost.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shame, Shame, Shame
Shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy
Shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy
Shame shame... shame on what\'choo done... yeah
You made me sweaty
Talkin\' I was skin & bones
You cause your lovers grief
Oh.. look at me now
Shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy... thats right
Shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy
Shame shame... a shame on what\'choo done
You know what ya done
You wanna butt
You wanna what
You wannna... ay ay ay
Yeeeaaahhh... well I was offered dice
I gav\'em a touchin\' hymn
But then the game broke a loose
Oh... you were the reason
Shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy
Yeah... shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy
Shame shame... shame on what\'choo done... ay ay ay ay
And now you\'re talkin\' back
Well I can tell your plan
You oughta eat my words down on your knees... aar
Shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy
Yeah yeah yeah yeah... shame shame shame on you Miss Roxy
Shame shame... a shame on what\'choo done... wellll...
Shame shame a shame on you Miss Roxy
Shame shame shame shame
Shame shame shame shame ... yooh shame on you...
Shame on what\'choo done... yeah
Shame shame... shame on what\'choo done... who yeah who yeah... yeah...
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Miss All Of You
I Will Miss All Of You
I have grown weary
Of writing poetry ‘til dawn
I don't think that you all will miss me
When I am finally gone
Poetry is my love
And I will miss her much
But when it comes to poems
I have written a bunch
I will miss all of you
Whom I call my friends
If it were not for you all
I would never have picked up my pens
Maybe one day I will come back
To play with you all with our words
For there will always be the many
Who think that our poetry is for the birds
Edwin Tanguma 2/28/2012
poem by Edwin Tanguma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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