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'What is the purpose of poetry? [Candidates
will be awarded up to 80% of the total marks
for this paper on the answer to
this question. Write on one side of the paper only
but with both frontal lobes;
hearts may be used in answers to this question.]'

After the two hours is up, hand in
a blank sheet; the examiner may sigh and smile.

Some sages say - those not affected
by some academic status to uphold -
(that pause, that look, which indicates,
it's not as simple as all that...) -
that it's the oldest-fashioned thing,
to melt the heart...

but today I'd say, well yes and no -
more like a key you turn and - whoosh! -
there cascades out, all that's in their heart,
all the vast all which they have to give;
and you stand aside, stunned and humble;
such a small key; such a vast world is there.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Blank Sheet Of Paper

I'm just a blank sheet of paper
This fool's about to write you a letter
To tell you that he's sorry
For the way he did you wrong
To ask for forgiveness
For leaving you alone
He's been looking down at me seems like forever
he takes the top on and off his pen
It's like he can't decide
Just what he wants to say
If he'd just tell the truth
I'd be on my way
Chorus
But he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he doesn't want it to end
And now it's one hour later (four hours later)
I am still a blank sheet of paper
Sunlight is shining through the curtains
He's almost asleep pen in hand
There's a tear in his eye
That refuses to fall
If it would land on me
That would say it all
Repeat Chorus
And he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he wants it back again
And now one broken heart later
I am still a Blank sheet of paper

song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Do You Write Poetry

There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!

9 November 2011

poem by David Harris
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The time I discovered myself a Poet

I wouldnt say I was patient
but I have an interest in poetry
Is it the dawning of a new error
or will the sky be grey
I write how I see life and it is not always pleasant

I like to write abou experiences that I have been through
my poetry has changed as I ave changed
I see it as a hobby as I write in my grange
My poetry is mainly fiction but I also write about things that are true

I am not a person that would share alot of enthusiasim
poetry is a work of art
on each sheet of blank paper
I put my mark
Poetry is simple in this world of sin

I am not into shakesphere
what I write is authentic
the imagination on paper creates magic
a poem can change an atmosphere

I would like to say my poems mean something
my poems are meant to sting a mind
I want my poems to create pictures for people who are blind

poem by Natasha Browne
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Paper And Pen

Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen

Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen

Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow

Paper and pen
Paper and pen

And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines

Paper and pen
Paper and pen

Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar

Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen

Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010

poem by Colin Coplin
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A Scrap of Paper

"Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?" -- Question
of the German Chancellor to the British Ambassador,
August 5, 1914.

A mocking question! Britain's answer came
Swift as the light and searching as the flame.

"Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight
Till our last breath, and God defend the right!

"A scrap of paper where a name is set
Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt.

"A scrap of paper holds for man and wife
The sacrament of love, the bond of life.

"A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ
With God's eternal word to hallow it.

"A scrap of paper binds us both to stand
Defenders of a neutral neighbor land.

"By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight
To keep our name upon that paper white."

poem by Henry Van Dyke
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The Paper Heart

At valentines day we all
cut out little paper hearts,
then we hand them to the
people we want to be our valentine.
And we cut them into all shapes
and sizes and make them all pretty.
Well I have one.
Her name is sally.
She is my paper heart.
I gave her to my valentine,
thinking they would take
good care of her?
Well bad thing about paper,
it gets torn apart, and ripped to shredds
very very easily.
My valentine tore my heart apart.
Then she gave me back Sally,
and all I could do was ask why?
I got no response.
I don't like paper hearts,
they don't last very long, and
get hurt very quickly.
My paper heart will never be the same.
So much for my perfect valentine.

poem by Fallen Pixie
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Just A Leaf

make it as simple
as an empty sheet
of paper
where you are told
to write
only one letter

you see it is no
longer as simple as that
to show yourself
as only
one letter on an empty
sheet of
yellow paper

i want to make is as simple
as my hand
touching a wall

i close my eyes
let my body fall

i am not pushing anything

it is only me
as a leaf.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blank Mocking Paper

I stare at this paper so white
I just don't know what's so right
I want to write on it
I would love to write a sonnet
I just am alone with the green lines
The red now just starts to shine
Blank as my mind is this sheet
Please can my pen and it just meet
Instead of me sitting here dumbstruck
As if I almost got hit by a truck
Ink blue as the sky not writing
Instead on its end I keep biting
I don't want to right about a caper
So I’ll just stare at this Blank Mocking Paper

poem by Zachary Clark
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Without blinking

Without blinking stare at an object
Tears roll and no question is there why.

On oily paper pens do not write
No question is there why.

Water through fissures not leaking
Ocean floor and there is no question why.

The question is there is no question to put why.

I am just obseving and observing
I can shot
The mute then show gut.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Blank Page Blues

I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.

10 May 2008

poem by David Harris
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To Keep Watching

The one thing that made my day, today
He was handed a slip of paper
The one thing that made my day, today

The teacher's face blank and unreadable
The student's face pale and drawn with fear
The one thing that made my day, today
Until he read the paper

The one thing that made my day, today
The door shut closed behind the teacher
The one thing that made my day, today

All the other students turned back around
Except one
The one thing that made my day, today
And that one saw the thing that made her day

The one thing that made my day, today
The boy read the paper ... and he smiled.

poem by Hannah Shier
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The Heart You Know

The heart you know
In case you forgot
It’s a thing children draw
Usually coloured in red
It’s a thing that pulses
And never beats around the bush
Usually says what it feels
It’s something I wonder whether you have

The heart you know
It’s a thing you can draw
On a white piece of paper
And erase it
Until it becomes as pale as a sheet
Until the paper becomes as torn as a heart

The heart you know
In case you forgot
It’s a thing I wonder
Whether you’ve ever had

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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And then the paper is dirty

You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,

You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.

You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.

I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful

Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.

Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem I Did Not Write Today

THE POEM I DID NOT WRITE TODAY

The poem I did not write today
Will never be written.
No one knows what it is
Or where it is
'How it can be? ' is another question
No one can answer.

The poem I did not write today
Never went away
It is always here with me and with you
It is the same simple poem
Written over and over again
In our everyday minds.

It is the poem of love of life
The poem of happiness
The poem of belief in God
And in the goodness in the world to come
It is the poem which believes too that poetry will help save the world.

It is the good poem
The happy poem
The poem I did not write today
Is the poem my life is writing now and always
And with you it says
‘What a miracle it is that we are here
reading and writing
and loving life as we do’.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Would ya stand (revised edition)

on that day a question came by
surrounded by the blue sky
i held your hand in mine
i knelt down as the wind felt just fine
i knew i needed to ask you
something you had to know an answer too

(this is the chorus)
would ya stand right here by my side
as the world gave us chide after chide
telling us we would never be
that you would never be with me
and i would never be with you
that we would never be together forever
forever o yes together forever forever o yes

they just said hush
stop joking it will never happen
whats wrong with you huh
the answer you will hate
you will never again have a clean slate
you ask her and she will slap you'
but i said no and knelt

(repeat chorus) would ya stand right here by my side
as the world.... (etc the rest of chorus) would ya stand right here
my (hold for 3 beats) dear
would you never dare
to leave me that you would always care
and stand right here with me
o so willingly and o so happily
stand and hold me
stand here with me
be with me forever
but answer my question
would ya stand o darling would ya stand right by my SIDE! ! ! ! !

and now that i know
i have already begun to show
that you will be with me
and i will be with you
and i will love you and now i know you will love me too
would ya stand! ! ! ! would ya stand!
yes my dear my dear i! ! ! know! ! ! you! ! ! would! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

And We will be together forever forever o yes together forever forever o yes

poem by David Knox
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Easy Question

(words & music by blackwell - scott)
Do you or don't you love me
Such an easy question
Why can't i get an answer
Tell me, will you or won't you need me
Such an easy question
Why can't i get an answer
All you do is give a sigh
And beat around the bush
Can it be that you're too shy
To give yourself a little old push
Can you or can't you tell me yes
It's such an easy question
Why can't i get an answer

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insect

Insect.

On my blue lined writing pad a tiny insect walks,
it appears lost and hesitates before crossing a line,
lost in this vast wilderness of the unwritten.
I try to blow it off the paper, but somehow glues
itself to the paper and will not budge.
I cannot touch it tiny as it is I will surely squash it.
Nothing I can do for now, leave it to its own devise,
go watch TV. When I returned it has gone, a sheet
of paper with nothing written on is a lonely place
and has no story to tell.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Not The One I’m Looking For

If someone was to asked me,
why do you write?
I wouldn’t be able to answer them,
because quite frankly I just don’t know.
I just pick up a pen and paper,
and then the words come tumbling out,
and when I have finished,
I ask myself was that really me?
That is one of the reasons,
I never question what I do,
because there would never be an answer,
at least not the one I’m looking for.

poem by David Harris
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Here With Me

You are still here with me
In my thoughts and in my heart
In the love poetry I write
You are my muse, my hearts pride
You are my foolish smile
My guilty secret thought
You’re that twinkle in my eye
You’re so much of me
And more to discover
You are always here with me
No matter where we go
I’ll find a way to be there for you
Without a question asked
Yours is the love I feel
On which I feed to write
You are to my happy heart
A piece of my life

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Blank Page

Blank page leave me be!
Blank page please stop taunting me,
reminding me of what I have failed to do.
Oh how I long to fill you,
to take up your very last line
with creative, riveting lyrics of mine.

Blank page stop harassing me!
I wish to show you my thoughts,
desires, emotions and all.
How difficult it is to answer your call.

Blank page how sweetly you whisper
tempting my pen to caress your paper.
I immaturely expect the verses to flow
then I realize that my thoughts are much too slow.

Blank page so often you defeat me
teasing and challenging until hours later
all that is left is the tiny dot
where my pen merely touched your paper.

poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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