0244 Trying to write a sonnet
It's a bit like a trip in a hot air balloon -
the hot air of thousands of years of
poets poetizing; all trying to float a little higher than the everyday,
just a little lower than the angels -
whoops, there's four lines gone already...
so, the first four lines or so say
where you're taking this trip from, hoping
to arrive somewhere quite new and unexpected
after fourteen lines, otherwise
why take the trip at all?
so, fire up the burner of ambition, whatever,
and we're into the second four lines now;
floating in an easy, silent, gently breeze-blown world,
a poet's paradise,
where the mind is stilled, the beauty of the landscape
almost beyond words (ha!) : all perspectives on the world
altered; but do we know now where we're heading?
It's a cool way of experiencing altered state
without illegal substances. Take out the notebook,
try to describe it, just in case
someone reads it; at least it might
encourage them to take the trip themself.
And now we're into the last six lines
which, the pundits say, should introduce
some new insight, some viewpoint on the world;
you've had your chance; has the trip been worthwhile?
the balloon's gone higher, the landscape stretches out,
greener than a politician's promise...
Floating above the green fields, the concrete and the smog,
the unexpected words from the ground heard crystal clear -
have new thoughts, new visions, come, in this poet's paradise?
And now so soon, the final couplet - which the pundits of today
condemn as the valueless whistling in the dark,
the false claim to cultural certainties -
so beware: take all your humility in hand like
a doffed Elizabethan cap: will that final couplet be
the clunk-click of the safety belt's banality? The
front-door clack of Alexander Pope's front door,
before the scrape of sharpened pen, the mellow smell
of candlelight on paper that will ring the world
like thought-fired, savage Georgian hot-air balloon?
Or the clang of oven door in Belsen, Dachau, Buchenwald?
For the poet, just fourteen lines: heaven and earth,
truth and lies, life and death, Icarus 's fate,
all these, for his few hours, depend upon it;
but I digress; I should have writ a sonnet..
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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Emotional Geography 70
BROKEN lines, with a crazy smile,
eyes pointed up, towards the
burning sun.IS this it, you yell
at GOD, or just another bad trip.
BROKEN lines with some happy dust,
a woman sits by herself, with her
pipe, and drugs, is this it, she
yells at GOD, or just another bad
trip.
BROKEN lines mend as one, they
wash there bodies in the water
of GOD, is this it, they both yell,
yes says the king, now go back
home.
BROKEN lines, with crazy smiles...
poem by David Gerardino
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I Am A Poet Of Short Lines
I am a poet of short lines-
Of lines that are phrases,
Of lines that are small and broken-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of impatience and small breath,
Of hurrying and not taking time-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of condensation and conciseness,
Of maximum meaning in minimum space-
I am a poet of short lines
Short ones.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Don't
Don't fall in love with a poet
for they will melt your heart
and there is no escape, you see
for romance is their art.
Don't try to vie with a poet
for words trip from their mouths
as easily as quick silver
that lines the darkest clouds.
Don't tell a poet your secrets
for very soon you'll see,
they'll write them as a metaphor
upon a paper sea.
Don't make a stance with a poet
for you don't stand a chance
they'll sway you with emotions
and words that sweetly dance.
Don't fall in love with a poet,
however they endear,
for strong romantic gestures
will conjure flowing tears.
Don't fall in love with a poet
for life will surely change
but oh how happy you will be
to have it rearranged.
poem by Ruth Walters
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(Can't You) Trip Like I Do
I've got the understanding of a 4-year-old
I've got the piece of mind of a killer soul
I've got the rationale of a new york cop
I've got the patience of a chopping block yeah
trip like I do
trip like I do (oh my god this is the best)
I've got the acumen of a season broke
I've got the lack of say of a billion souls
I've got the world on my back but I don't seem to care
I've got the comprehension of a world unaware yeah
trip like i do
trip like I do (oh my god this is the best)
trip like i do (mm..i want you to trip like i do)
can't you, can't you trip like i do
can't you, can't you trip like I do
laid down my back i can't sleep cause I'm falling
eyes in my teeth i can't see cause i'm eating
head full of noise I can't think cause it's crushing
back on my feet like a freight train I'm coming
can everybody feel like I do
can everybody feel like I do (oh my god)
can't you can't you trip like I do
can't you can't you trip like I do (oh my god)
can't you trip can't you think can't you feel like I do
can't you walk can't you breathe can't you trip like I do...
like me
song performed by by Filter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trip Like I Do
I've got the understanding of a 4-year-old
I've got the piece of mind of a killer soul
I've got the rationale of a new york cop
I've got the patience of a chopping block yeah
Trip like i do
Trip like i do (oh my god this is the best)
I've got the acumen of a season broke
I've got the lack of say of a billion souls
I've got the world on my back but i don't seem to care
I've got the comprehension of a world unaware yeah
Trip like i do
Trip like i do (oh my god this is the best)
Trip like i do (mm..i want you to trip like i do)
Can't you, can't you trip like i do
Can't you, can't you trip like i do
Laid down my back i can't sleep cause i'm falling
Eyes in my teeth i can't see cause i'm eating
Head full of noise i can't think cause it's crushing
Back on my feet like a freight train i'm coming
Can everybody feel like i do
Can everybody feel like i do (oh my god)
Can't you can't you trip like i do
Can't you can't you trip like i do (oh my god)
Can't you trip can't you think can't you feel like i do
Can't you walk can't you breathe can't you trip like i do...
Like me...
song performed by by Filter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What a Dilemma
“What a dilemma” exclaimed the poet
“a Shakespearean sonnet I must write.
If I succeeded I would not know it
Or have a clue if I had done it right.”
“Fourteen lines, iambic pentameter…
Of course, a carefully patterned rhyme scheme.”
The idea truly enamored her,
as she prudently pursued this pipe dream.
“First, three quatrains to show complication,
a final couplet to tie up loose ends.”
Sure result was an abomination…
Certain ridicule from all of her friends.
After hours of counting syllables, it
turned into way too much silly bullshit.
poem by Maggie Signaigo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What a Dilemma (a Shakespearean sonnet?)
What a dilemma” exclaimed the poet
“a Shakespearean sonnet I must write.
If I succeeded I would not know it
Or have a clue if I had done it right.”
“Fourteen lines, iambic pentameter…
Of course, a carefully patterned rhyme scheme.”
The idea truly enamored her,
as she prudently pursued this pipe dream.
“First, three quatrains to show complication,
a final couplet to tie up loose ends.”
Sure result was an abomination…
Certain ridicule from all of her friends.
After hours of counting syllables, it
turned into way too much silly bullshit.
poem by Maggie Signaigo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Balloon Ride
There were times in my life when I was confused.
There were things between me and God that were blocking my view.
So I prayed,
"Oh dear Lord, take these things away so I can see."
He answered my prayer and at the sight of Him
I fell to my knees.
And until I went onto that fateful trip.
I thought I was on a sinking ship.
Until,
I went on a balloon ride and i could see
Everything from up there
I went on a balloon ride and now
Everything seems clear.
I strive towards infinity.
Though sometimes I don't know what to do.
When other people laugh at me
All I do is look towards You.
Well on my through this life yet something was gone.
I looked round and round and then I found I needed some one.
So I prayed,
"Oh dear Lord, fill me up and make me whole.
Present in my life Jesus Christ, save my soul."
And until I went onto that fateful trip.
I thought I was on a sinking ship.
Until,
I went on a balloon ride and i could see
Everything from up there
I went on a balloon ride and now
Everything seems clear.
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Couplets 02 Touchy Composition
Between two cotyledons— plant grows with a bud!
With two lines— couplets come into flower with an idea.
Sometimes, two lines may be more powerful than two hundred lines.
Small verses like couplets are really beautiful.
They speak and touch with peace— as Poems for Life.
Couplet— I
Watering rain on the leaves
Orchid plant mutely sleeps
Couplet— II
Under the pillow raining night
Memory coins may or might!
Couplet— III
All green buds grows yellow
Plant or animal must follow!
Couplet— IV
Shooting stars proclaimed that
No one ever will be mate…
Couplet— V
How the moon came into being
The way fishes sleep and sing
Ashraful Musaddeq
poem by Ashraful Musaddeq
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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I read another poet I could not understand
I READ ANOTHER POET I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND
I read another poet I could not understand
The metaphors racing one after the other
The eternal thoughts taking on a new particular dress
Words and more words
Lines and more lines
Rushing toward meaning and beauty.
And in it all my simple not understanding,
My waiting to hear words that would return to me-
My understanding
That only by my own effort
By my reading again and again
By my willing to believe
Could I make another poet real.
But do I want another poet to be real
When I am a question,
And when there are already others real for me also?
Oh selfish little man oh poor poor reader-
Write your poem alone again
As if no one but you will ever be able to write
The poems which are real.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
Im sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
Theyre bringing me presents and saying hello.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
If I was a junkman selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The king started laughing and talking in rhyme.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poet Without A Poem/ Empty and Desperate
A POET WITHOUT A POEM
A poet without a poem
Empty and desperate
Forces a few lines
As way of reviving himself.
The lines lead to other lines
A poem begins to come.
The poet hears his hope as he writes
And then when there is a poem
He just rests happily
Knowing he is alive again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hot Air Balloon
I saw a hot air balloon flying over my house:
Most of the time, it was as quiet as a mouse,
But, every so often, its burners suddenly roared,
And higher, up into the sky, it suddenly soared.
My excitement, I found hard to keep at bay,
As, a hot air balloon, you don't see every day.
A passenger balloon floating through the air,
For me, is so special, as the sight is so rare.
The sight of the balloon, filled me with delight,
And I stood watching it, until it flew out of sight.
My eyes were stuck to the balloon, just like glue,
As it floated across a sky of cornflower blue.
I wonder what it's like to float through the sky,
Watching the world down below gliding on by.
I've always wanted to ride in a hot air balloon:
I hope I will one day, and I hope that it's soon.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Mind Movement #4
reflecting under the boughs unfurling
gazing skyward and tasting pins of light
a radiant glimmer shown like sterling
as a flock of moonbeams trip in my sight
whispering movements as a string quartet
as they rest aloft their separate branches
leaves, dancing with wind in a silhouette
and time stands still as the twilight blanches
a cumulus cluster filters leaf light
‘tis an origami of twilight opera
and my mind drinks a smile in delight
to imagine the mythical hydra
floating in memories, my reflections
crescendo of soul, natures’ connections
Author notes
Sonnet
Sonnets are formal poems and consist of 14 lines (3 quatrains and a couplet) , traditionally written in iambic pentameter - that is, in lines ten syllables long, with accents falling on every second syllable.
source: shadowpoetry.com
poem by Amera Andersen
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Why You Wanna Trip On Me
They Say I'm Different
They Don't Understand
But There's A Bigger Problem
That's Much More In Demand
You Got World Hunger
Not Enough To Eat
So There's Really No Time
To Be Trippin' On Me
You Got School Teachers
Who Don't Wanna Teach
You Got Grown People
Who Can't Write Or Read
You Got Strange Diseases
Ah But There's No Cure
You Got Many Doctors
That Aren't So Sure
So Tell Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Stop Trippin'
We've Got More Problems
Than We'll Ever Need
You Got Gang Violence
And Bloodshed On The Street
You Got Homeless People
With No Food To Eat
With No Clothes On Their Back
And No Shoes For Their Feet
We've Got Drug Addiction
In The Minds Of The Weak
We've Got So Much Corruption
Police Brutality
We've Got Streetwalkers
Walkin' Into Darkness
Tell Me
What Are We Doin'
To Try To Stop This
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Ooh Stop Trippin'
Yeah Stop Trippin'
Everybody Just Stop Trippin'
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Stop Trippin'
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Why You Wanna Trip On Me
Ooh Stop Trippin'
Yeah Stop Trippin'
Everybody Just Stop Trippin'
Stop Trippin'
Stop Trippin'
Stop Trippin'
Stop Trippin'
song performed by by Michael Jackson from Dangerous
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Twenty Lines
I just read this poem about using just twenty lines,
and it brought these words to my mind.
Who are they to tell us how many lines we should use to speak?
This is America where we have a law known as freedom of speech.
Just twenty lines tell you something about my life in words.
To me that seem completely absurd.
My life is much more than just twenty lines.
Hell I am thirty nine.
And if they except me to sum up thirty nine years in twenty lines
They are complete outside their minds.
How am I suppose to tell you how I nearly died when I was child?
Or how my mother harsh words took away my smile:
In just twenty lines?
Like I said they must be out of their minds.
I guest I can do if I shorten my life.
I don't have to talk about how much I love my future wife.
But her love is the inspiration for a lot of my poems.
So to not talk about her would be wrong.
I have a lot more to say but I'm out of time.
I reach my limit of my twenty lines.
A Pigeon
I've picked up your name from the floor
and held it for long on the palm of my hand
watching it gently peck its lines
until there remained nothing not a single crumb
and your name well fed slept for a while
in lines of death in lines of life
in lines of the head and lines of the heart
in intricate patterns that sealed me for too long
there was a lullaby I wanted to sing
but I was not able to open my mouth
for fear you'll wake up and disappear
and I promised myself I would never dropp you again
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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