Didn't Care
You didn't care,
when I was alone,
fighting with,
me in your absence.
You didn't share,
your laughter, grief,
your sojourn...
I knitted a sweater,
for you,
with white and
sky blue.
You didn't come in winter.
Still now, it's with me.
You know, I have in my hair,
a flash of silver white!
Soon, I'll need spec,
to read your poems.
Oh! I forgot to tell,
you one thing, hmm.silly
though, no won't tell,
you will laugh then.
Everyday, I write a poem
thinking of you!
You told once, my poems
are rubbish!
But, believe me, I write,
squeezing my blood,
from my love for you!
If you won't talk,
well, I'll be speaking
aloud, rather, under,
the gulmohar tree,
under its bunch of
red flowers, or,
under any leafless tree,
one which you will prefer...
But, we must meet..
someday,
any day,
as it has been
fixed by God!
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The power of words
Sometimes when you had
an idea for a poem
you didn’t jot it down
and let it be
to fade away into the naught
as if it really didn’t matter
or your words had lost their power
or was there a hidden fear,
something that you didn’t
want to talk about
or something that you didn’t
want to appear,
something that you were afraid
would kill your luck
or disturb your thoughts?
When we spoke at times
you would sarcastically say
go and write a poem about it
and I wonder if you really
didn’t care about writing
or just not about me
or was it jealousy?
Sometimes when the words
of a great poem came to me
you would demand that I immediately
do something for you
to proof my love
and not give me the opportunity
to capture the sacred words.
Yet, as time went by
and I had to leave
the words came back to you
and great verses appeared
and you said that I could string out
poems to the nth power
and wanted me
to write great messages as well
and I was afraid that card like lines
would kill the magic of words in me.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Faint Of Heart
I wish you could have read
The Letters that I didn’t write
Would’ve liked for you to have heard
Words I didn’t say
I wish you could have felt the touch
Of hands that didn’t reach out at night
Would’ve liked to know
What you didn’t feel…
When you didn’t hear the words…
Words I didn’t say…words I couldn’t write
poem by David Whalen
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Poems Poems
poems poems every where does any one care
poems are your life but do you include them
poems may seem silly but there a great part of life
so say a poem write a poem listen to a poem be the poem
poem by Samantha Thuringer
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Didn't You Know
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
Remember when you left?
You had your own rules about playing the game
And any day, you could walk away feeling no pain
Now look at yourself
You're all hung up on somebody else
And in your eyes i see all the signs of the misery
That you laid on me
Baby, baby
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know that you'd lose your pride?
Didn't anybody tell you love had another side?
You used to be so proud
Now, your head's a little lower
And you walk slower
And you don't talk so loud
You've gotten wise
You know how love can build you up one moment
And the next, cut you down to size
Then you discover
All she told you was a bunch of lies
Baby, baby
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know that you'd lose your pride?
Didn't anybody tell you love had another side?
Baby, baby
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Didn't You Know (You'd Have To Cry Sometime)
(Nickolas Ashford/Valerie Simpson)
Remember when you left?
You had your own rules about playing the game
And any day, you could walk away feeling no pain
Now look at yourself
You're all hung up on somebody else
And in your eyes I see all the signs of the misery
That you laid on me
Baby, baby
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know that you'd lose your pride?
Didn't anybody tell you love had another side?
You used to be so proud
Now, your head's a little lower
And you walk slower
And you don't talk so loud
You've gotten wise
You know how love can build you up one moment
And the next, cut you down to size
Then you discover
All she told you was a bunch of lies
Baby, baby
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know that you'd lose your pride?
Didn't anybody tell you love had another side?
Baby, baby
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to cry sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
Didn't you know you'd have to hurt sometime?
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't write poems
I don't write poems,
I drink them like wine,
I become tipsy
with each coming line.
I don't write poems,
I breathe them like air,
I become so happy
when each one I share.
I don't write poems,
I live with them;
they prolong my years,
they are as true as I am.
I don't write poems,
I weave into verses
sadness, joy, tears,
prayers, love, curses…
My poems talk and sing,
Sense of living they bring.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
26th of April,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And I write this on your white tomb with a piece of charcoal
When I see the twilight sky
I think of you and your poem paintings!
When I hear a bird's chirping faraway
on a tree, I count your unsung poems?
Whenever I pass burial grounds
I believe that you're still alive
and write?
But you're gone and it's certain.
Do you remember we made a promise once
That one of us do our Epitaph?
Yes, it's my turn and I write this
on your white tomb with a piece of charcoal
and who writes on mine in your absence?
I dedicate this poem to the celebrated poet Khalil Gibran for his love letters!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My birthday was different this year
As I was rummaging through
the file boxes my wife had left for me
in the garage
I found a yellow legal pad
scribbled with hand written poems
I had written one night
in a almost crowded coffeehouse
waiting for a poet friend from Chicago
to come up north to read
The poems talked about
how I waited and waited
before too long
several anxious poets
ran up to the microphone
not afraid to trip over themselves
share their delicate poems
about romance and almost romance
detailing having a job they don't like
and it seemed to me
they were also not liking much else about their lives
besides their job they didn't like
My Chicago artist friend as usual
was more then an hour late
which isn't bad considering Chicago
is almost three hours away
so most other places
damn, she would have been early
When I read the poem
I wrote about being at a reading
I didn't want to be at
I realized I was spending my birthday
by myself in a coffeehouse
writing poems
not making much eye contact
with people I didn't even like
although one of the poets
I think Francine is her name
came up to me during a break and said 'hi'
but she didn't remember my name
or knew it was my birthday
and a couple of days after my anniversary
or that I was getting a divorce
that poem I read
was a good sign of things to come
because this year
on my birthday
I woke up with a new friend in my bed
multiple orgasms for her to share
before having a nice breakfast together
of eggs, sausage, hash browns and italian toast
cooked on the George Foreman grill
and things didn't look or feel
the same again
poem by Oscar Mireles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I wrote those poems for myself, as a way of being a soldier here in this country. I didn't know the poems would travel. I didn't go to Lebanon until two years ago, but people told me that many Arabs had memorized these poems and translated them into Arabic.
quote by June Jordan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree
My existence
start from a little piece of seed...
First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...
But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...
With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...
Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...
Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...
Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...
Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...
Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...
Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...
Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...
Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...
Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...
Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...
But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...
By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM
The History Poems Have Not Been Written
The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa
poem by Shalom Freedman
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We Didn't Choose the Book
I came to see you better
in those final days because
you are my mother and
it's hard to get that in
perspective because
it's just a little bit too big
although we try
every chance we get
to tell mom
hey Mom, you're the greatest
love you Mom
my mom is my best friend
and mom's rule
But mom in the final days
although we didn't really know
that you would slip away from us
quite so suddenly
that one Sunday morning
it was afternoon when I got the call
my sister saying that you
just didn't wake up in the morning
and so we closed a chapter
on life and opened another
which we have yet to write
but mine will be filled with you
still because I remember
walking with you one arm
on yours just for love
and just to steady you. You
walked stiffly from the hip surgery
and you just get a little smaller
as real old age comes on
but just the physical part
Though you could say
everything starts to go
that's not really true
because Mom, you know
because you know
that love never forgets
I’ll never forget but I mean
you you never forgot love
although eventually you couldn't
remember much
well you would remember
stuff, but it got busted up
disjointed but Mom, it's cool
We we didn't choose the book
did we? No, we we didn't choose
the book, we just scribble
some little things into it
Notes: I write a lot, so often times I get something like this, which isn't very good. And yet it's like a photograph of me, so it has some value, at least to me. Also it is a stepping-stone perhaps in between good poems, and I would not have reached my next 'good' poem unless I had written this one.
poem by Tom Courtney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I Write
When I write,
I do my best...
To incite an insight!
Some may not like.
But I seek a comprehension.
Not to revisit...
A safety zone,
Already known.
Or one that has been mentioned.
And when I write,
I choose to test...
A curiosity,
Within me...
That does not sit and rest.
I want to produce seeds of understanding.
And in the doing...
Even I am not thoroughly delighted,
By what I have to admit...
Is a bunch of 'horseshhhiftivities'
From that which I have sown.
When I write!
'Horseshiftivities is not a word! '
I've entitled this poem 'When-I-Write'
Not 'Give-me-Your-Unsolicited-Opinion'.
'Did you or did you 'not' ask me to read it? '
AND not a thing more did I ask!
Did I?
'Correct.'
But you must admit,
That 'horseshifting' business drew you in,
Right?
'No,
Not really.
I knew if I didn't read it...
You wouldn't allow me to leave.
Then I would have to deal with much more,
Than just this 'horseshift' on your shoulders! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Letter To My Tree
Off for work I was heading
But not without words for heat-keeping
To my tree to grease its heart
When with it I part.
The wind came and came
But no shaking by my tree
Until one visit, one day
When a fiercer one came.
Oh, why my tree lost control at last?
With the tears I write.
What do I again
The victory of my tree to regain?
Everyday I talk, everyday I mourn
For my love on my tree to be worn.
For my tree I pray to you, O creator
Her inner heart softly touch
To heed my grey hair
So victory hers and mine become.
Oh, why my tree lost control at last?
With the tears I write.
poem by Christian Tobechukwu Okafor
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem
All I can do now is write another poem-
The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-
Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-
A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-
Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-
But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-
I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-
All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-
Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Read A Poem I Could Not Write
I READ A POEM I COULD NOT WRITE
I read a Poem I could not write
And then I wrote it down.
I left it long alone
Forgot where it was found.
Somehow it came back to me
In another time,
I had never written it
The Truest poems, not mine.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Few Poems Are Remembered
FEW POEMS ARE REMEMBERED
Few poems are remembered -
Few poems are ever really known-
Few poems are chosen -
Few poems make us want to return to them again and again-
Out of thousands written every day
Perhaps one poem in a decade
Perhaps less.
This is not the poem.
One can write a lifetime
Without ever writing one such poem.
Most of us never write the poem
And most of us are not remembered either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Many People Have No Poem
SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE NO POEM
So many people have no poem.
No one writes of them and for them,
And perhaps it is not important to most of them.
But for the few who need and want a poem
And cannot write a poem of their own
Shouldn’t there be someone to write for them?
I have tried to write for a few
But not that well either.
Who will write for them?
Who will listen for them?
God Maker of all Poems and Silences,
You Alone can save us,
The makers of poems
And those who are only listeners.
God You Alone-Write their names for them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do not read my poems…. [for YOU ]
Do not read my poems…
After I am dead
As a lament, a wail
An elegy, a requiem
Do not read my poems…
After I am gone
When no more I can
Hear your velvet voice.
Do not read my poems…
Alone without me
To comment along
And read with you
But, do read my poems
When I beside you lie
With my head resting
On your supporting arm
Listening to you read
In whisper, in kisses
In silence, in love
In sleep, in dream
Watching you feel
Every word I wrote
I’ll close my eyes - Love
Brush aside my hair
With your breathe
Which half veils my face
Sleepless fevered I wrote
Read me my poems
Now sing me a lullaby
Rock me to sleep
On your broad chest
Diving into your eyes
A thousand times
I am refreshed
By your smile
I’ll write on you a poem
Traced by my fingertips
To be etched in your heart
And burnt into your soul!
So, do not read my poems…
poem by Angelina Pandian
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