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Poetry Will Be Written By All

there's the wisdom that survives
the jigsaws of oppositions
sometimes when it is too late
it fidgets on a piece of paper
the way you now fidget among these lines
my reader

'sagacity, the dawns break out in inexperience'

its face is the coin
two facet written
carrying the countenance of a new hero
anonymously surviving the final countdown
it is history memorized
it is eternity memorized
for a dead poet has passed it down to the future

'will the freedom be able to sing
the way the slaves used to sing about it'

and 'poetry will be written by all'
Quoted lines are taken from Branko Miljkovic's poetry

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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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
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Poetry Has Its Own Music

POETRY HAS ITS OWN MUSIC

Poetry has its own music-
A mind empty of it
Wonders where it is.

Poetry has a rhythm of its own
Without that rhythm
Dead words dead lines dead pages.

Seeking the rhythm the music of poetry
Flat lines come
And the poem is a parody
Of true poetry.

How many flat and false poems
Have I written
In order
To help me try
To come alive?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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All The Poems Remain Written Where They Once Never Were

ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE

All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
The trees and dark cities of the distance form single sounds in the heart of the poet who cares
Night is more than darkness and day more than an early setting out
Each thing influences the other and calls back its own origins and end
We are going somewhere we will never know whether we write eternal lines or not
Over everywhere can be heard in the morning light the selfsame sound that through the heart of Ruth burned the alien corn
Keats is not dead, and Borges is not dead and Kafka is not dead and Wordsworth and all those who wrote great lines are not dead
Poetry is the last first eternity of the living word
And those who can hear the sounds of others greater than themselves in their own lines know
We are all writing down this last poem for ourselves and no one else
Though as we go to pray each morning the minyan tells us secretly
All our prayers together are more than any single poem can be alone
In the grey long distance where no one hears any poem at all
God writes and rewrites for us all the book of the stars in which dread is no longer a name
And beauty bright bright beauty is heard and reechoed as more than we will ever be
God is the only Poetry in the End
God is the Only One who never will be dead..

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poems Written About Poetry

The poems written about Poetry
Seemed to be self- indulgent and self- serving,
The Poet worshipping what he does
And making himself Holy-

But in some other way
They were simply Explorations
Efforts at understanding the Art
And improving the Music-

They were in their own quiet way small adventures
And gifts to other would- be- poets
And lovers of intense lines-

The poems written about the poetry
Were small additions to a long history
Poems about poems-

One kind of poem
In a world
Where there is no end to more and many.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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There Is a Poetry That Believes

THERE IS A POETRY THAT BELIEVES

There is a Poetry that believes
It need only to be written
To exist.

There is a deeper Poetry
No one has the formula for it
No one knows how to unfailingly write it
No one knows when and how it will appear.

The Deeper Poetry
The Poetry that means what Poetry is
The Poetry these lines miss.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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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
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Poetry Dream.

I drift Yeah ~ ~ ~ ~ drift,
Network at home and abroad to find changed,
Finally came to this piece of land,
This is the poetry of the static earth?
Hoped to write a good poem,
To allow them across the oceans.

They become afraid of heavy stones,
Not sensual in the sink into the sea!
How many years after writing poetry?
This life caught in the areas of poetry,
Poets seem to lose direction.

Not to warble his life sentence,
Poetry is difficult as the expense of my new hand,
He voted Shigao nowhere Monet,
Sometimes, as the water is no longer up,
Poet dead bodies over the sea.

Poems written to a basis
Vernacular into a good poem, rare words,
But thousands of miles seeking Hello,
Poetry does not seek out the words parallelism.

Present the most chaotic poetry,
Have you written in classical Chinese poetry Link old-fashioned,
Vernacular writing to another, then no taste,
But to one day rushed into cloud,
To break the shackles of poetry,
Create a new charm,
Freedom to write my hope,
Unrestricted write a new realm.

poem by Albert Wong
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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
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If you really wish to know the poets

If you wish
to understand poets
If you wish
to know what’s in their minds

Then you must read
their poetry
But you must also read
between the lines

For The most revealing lines
a poet writes about himself
Are the ones…
not written upon the wall

Unwritten yes…but hints abound in…
can be found in
Choice of subject…And choice of title
About the poet…tells us all

poem by David Whalen
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Poetry

Poetry.......
Poetry defines me

Poetry.......
A place where you be you and I'll be me.

Poetry.......
We are best friends for eternity.

My Poetry.......
Is the daughter of my emotion,
There I've said it, no need to interpret the connection.

Poetry.......
Where my pen and paper are sealed with a kiss,
So easy to write for my mind is a bliss.

Poetry.......
Poetry has multiple meanings,
An indescribable feeling when I realize others understand them.

My Poetry.......
It just comes natural to me.

My Poetry.......
Is out there, , , , , away from exile,
And style of writing is very versatile.

Poetry.......Poetry.......
P oetry.......
It speaks out to me.

poem by Anita Khelawan
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I Lost The Music Of My Poetry

I LOST THE MUSIC OF MY POETRY

I lost the music of my poetry
I tried to hear it again
In old lines of my own,
Or in the lines of more musical poets-
Tehillim and Kohleth
Stevens and Keats, Hopkins Wordsworth and Dickinson-
Shakespeare-

But I heard no music of my own
Perhaps I have never really had
A music of my own.

Perhaps all I have had
Is what I have here-

Short lines of prose
Which also have their rhythm-
But are not true poems
And certainly do not sing together
As my soul would.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Young Poet

Poetry was something else

written by others

somewhere else

and came from

somewhere else

but the poetry

which he did not know

called one day

in a language he did not know

so he put down words on paper

and threw the paper away

but the words did not go away

and he did not know what poetry should do

until he wrote the words

which told him

what poetry could do

for only poetry can teach you poetry

*

Gertrude Stein stood behind me while I wrote this.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Poetry Is A Game

POETRY IS A GAME

Poetry is a game
Almost anyone can play
You write a few lines of your feelings
And say ‘I am a poet’.

At the highest level
Poetry is also a game
But only for a few-

They play their part also
As the Poet said-

But their lines
We wish to say and say
For as long as there is ‘forever’.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Paper Rose

Each time pen and line
brush the page

it is with you in mind;

all these years

you've been
reader to my writer-

you and I

giving life

to what starts as

mere blank pages-

and end as

our shared experience.

I can feel you;
hear you breathing

and lay

down each

night

renewed

for you have

read

between my lines

written and

I

received

your resonances
come back

to my ear-

these reciprocities

tracking

the journey

we each

together

have taken-
our lines entwining.

No greater bond

than the bond

of reader and that written;

no love more timeless

than that shared

in the missive

shaped

by two

interchanging

in this journey

through

life's space.

No gratitude greater
than mine.

Capture here then

to be clear

the

paper rose

this writing
is

because
its lines form

a rose

which will

last

down the years
forever read
forever written.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Feeling Of Poetry Is Lost

THE FEELING OF POETRY IS LOST

The feeling of poetry is lost -
Lines are written,
But they are without poetic feeling.
Dutiful lines which do not inspire.

I try
Line by line
To restore my soul.
I do not feel I am doing this.

Can a poem be written without poetic feeling inside?

Is what I am doing now
A poem?
Or is it simply one more small delusion
Through which a life is gotten through?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Lifted From Descriptive Restrictions

What is this thing called poetry?
Is it depictions...
Of vignettes connected.
Bridged between something said profound.
Recited as a sonnet...
With emotions sat upon it.
Exciting enough to be passed around?

Many try to describe poetry,
With an intellect approach...
Hoping to dull
Diverse interpretations,
With meters, tempo, rhyme
And lines counted!
Learned by rote and blurted.
Regurgitated from memory!

Can true poetry be defined without rhyme?
Can thoughts unconnected but colorized,
And flavored to moisten
Be the choice...
Of those who prefer their poetry moist?
Even though uncomprehending,
The meaning or intention of clues planted.
Seeded by the writer
Delighted to tease with mystery, sex
Or emotional pain aimed at the reader!

Can true poetry be defined,
As heartfelt expressions
Written to describe what then
Is in one's mind.

And who is to say there is a correct way
To reveal what one has to say with or without rhyme.
When those times come to pour a flow
That arrives and awaits the rush.
And thrusting that wish to be expressed as is!

What is this?
That has to find,
Poetic lines.
Requested or not!
When all it wants to do,
Is be delivered for what it is!
Searching for an accepted way...
In a style one owns,
Like none other conveys...
And lifted from descriptive restrictions,
To expand the demands of understanding!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Was A Poem About Poetry

THERE WAS A POEM ABOUT POETRY

There was a poem about poetry
Written by a poet whose name was hidden within the lines-

The poem about poetry
Became a song in the night
And a distant metaphor
For the incomprehensible journey that is life-

It became anything it could be made to be-
Love,
A world of a kind,
A mystery,
The holy sounds of light far far away -

All the poems we know are like this,
In the darkness they say one thing
But in the light in the light
Oh how dark and deep and far and lonely they are-

poem by Shalom Freedman
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