A Secret but everybody knows
Life is a song my dear
but nobody knows,
Life is a sad poem
and everybody recites?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Life Is Not A Poem
LIFE IS NOT A POEM
Life is not a poem
Life is difficult and small
Life is disappointment-
Life is not a poem
And not a song
And not joy in the morning
And blessing in the night-
Life is pain and sorrow and old age and death
Life is no good
When it is not-
Now tell me about your morning poem – also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Said ' When I Grow Old
I SAID, ‘WHEN I GROW OLD’
I said,
‘When I grow old
My poem will not be
a sad poem'-
My poem will be a poem
In memory
Of all the good I have known in my life-
Now I am old
And my poem is of pain and sadness also-
But the poem of gladness
The song of my soul
The poem of joy
Remains.
Oh how beautiful this life can be
When walking and singing free
Night is a reverie.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Alone, Writing A Poem With A Song
I was alone listening to a love/sad song
Searching, thinking ideas with imagination
To create a story in a form of a poem
Holding my pen and start writing it down
Since I like the lyrics with meaning so i sing along
Imagine life living alone with only a song
No one to talks to wh hears my opinion
Through song I express my emotion
Writing a poem which replies all my questions
And share to people that would give inspiration.
While writing a poem with a sad song
Something came across my mind
Remembered those things I had in my past
Which never get lost, I hate it but it last
My life which is filled with sufferings, I wish it would cast.
Alone, writing a poem with a sad song
My eyes covered by tears and let it fall
I cried and shout out loud to ease my pain
Just like a cloudy sky and pours as rain.
I keep on repeating the whole song till I finished my poem
Feared to forget the words and its definition
I happened to memorize the lyrics and become a favourite
A song that has been part of my life
And makes me live though I am alone.
eplies
poem by Judith Kempis
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A Most Famous I Am Poem
The most famous 'I Am' poem came from the pen of John Clare
When in Northampton mental asylum his type of person rare
Since when mentally unwell his best poems he did pen
One of the most amazing in his time of literary men.
The most famous 'I Am' poem of self does not boast
From the pen of one who to self never drunk a toast
A poor and mentally ill and near forgotten man
One close to the end of his tragic life span.
The most famous 'I Am' poem to it has a sad ring
'Tis not of the wonderful life it does sing
Now used as the anthem poem of the mentally ill
The most famous 'I Am' poem life's cup of dark sorrows does fill.
The most famous 'I Am' poem not a great song of life
But of one who had struggled with his inner strife
From the heart of a poor poet a cry of despair
The most famous 'I Am' poem from the pen of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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This is a poem....
This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.
poem by Tammie LilAimo
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The Poem of Life
The poem of life
may rhyme or may not
it's put out in stanzas -
whatever you've got.
The poem of life
is sometimes a ditty
a ballad, a sosnnet
sad, lovely or witty.
Some couplets may falter
and burn into ash
as love affairs enter
proverbial crash.
The poem of life
now childish, now grand
reflects the old psyche
asserting its' stand.
The poem of life
will change as you enter
that scary old place
they call 'Senior Center.'
The poem of life
though wobbly in rhyme
is something YOU wrote
you know 'it is mine.'
The poem of life
ah, think of it how
your kin that is next
will treasure it now.
Or maybe your poem
was written in sand
that's even better -
in trash it won't land.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again
THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’
‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?
Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’
The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Corporate Sector
Where are you going my dear
Profit and loss are the only Budget of the corporate sector.
Who is there to recognised you my dear and
To give value no body is there to deliver life clue.
Life is not cricket pitch my dear where you can bat
And acquired four and six and what is the use of
My poem where common pleople not get a chance to mix.
There is no law and order in this city my dear
I felt guilty as I came here insearch of scientology.
What is that you can ask me and the crow is ready there
To answer each and every question in clear and loud voice
Alas, I am not there to opt for choice.
You are going and I am here to carry the burden of life
And to praise it here there is nobody.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Song Is The Poem Now
THE SONG IS THE POEM NOW
I walk
And I sing,
And this brings out
The Poem in me.
More than the Poem itself
The Song is the Poem now.
The Songs lift me a bit
From the Sadness,
No Poem
Or No Song
Can Write.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Wanted; a poem
Wanted; a poem
Poem overcome
Trust deficit
Poem provide
Life breath
Poem guiding star
Poem not far
Poem fire
Destroy life's
Dark car.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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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The Poem Of The Evening Is A Quiet Poem
THE POEM OF THE EVENING IS A QUIET POEM
The poem of the evening is a quiet poem
It comes in gentleness with tired eyes
It does not know how long it will last
It believes a fresh breeze
And a simple song
Are all its needs
To feel happiness.
The poem of the evening this evening
Believes in life
Believes in Goodness of God
Believes it will somehow be alright.
The poem of the evening this evening
May be a foolish one
But it is a quietly happy one.
We need such poems sometimes
For life is hard in the long working days
And in the times of difficult idleness
When no dreams come.
Quiet and quiet
Soft as sleep
The poem of the evening this evening
Is a gentle one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Song
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear;
There is ever a something sings alway:
There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear,
And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray.
The sunshine showers across the grain,
And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree;
And in and out, when the eaves dip rain,
The swallows are twittering ceaselessly.
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
Be the skies above or dark or fair,
There is ever a song that our hearts may hear--
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear
There is ever a song somewhere!
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
In the midnight black, or the mid-day blue:
The robin pipes when the sun is here,
And the cricket chirrups the whole night through.
The buds may blow, and the fruit may grow,
And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sear;
But whether the sun, or the rain, or the snow,
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear.
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear,
Be the skies above or dark or fair,
There is ever a song that our hearts may hear--
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear--
There is ever a song somewhere!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Only A Poem Can Save Me
ONLY A POEM CAN SAVE ME
Only a poem can save me
Only a poem can take me home
And make me be what I truly am,
Only a poem can save me
And make each moment of my life
Its own song.
Only a poem can save me
And nothing I do
And nothing I will live
And nothing I write
Can be any more
than these words
This poem is now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Live From Poem To Poem
I LIVE FROM POEM TO POEM
I live from poem to poem-
Each poem gives its meaning to my life
In the time of its writing
I live from poem to poem-
I am living now
Standing in the sun
On Rashbag St
On my way home
After a mission
I failed to complete
as if I somehow know how to live in my poems
better than I can in all the practical duties of my life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wanted A Poem For The Morning
I wanted a poem for the morning
A poem to begin the day with-
A poem which would give my life hope -
I wanted a poem
Which would say I am alive
A good poem a kind poem
A poem which would make others a bit more happy-
And as so often
I wrote a poem
And left it as a question for the longer daylight and
the longer night which also is our life
beyond the morning-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem For All
I am
Looking around, all the time
Just as before, for a poem
A balanced poem, without sides
A poem without inclination, non-biased
A poem without pigmentation, colourless
A poem without religion, faithless
A poem without a nation, stateless
A poem devoid of immigration officers, borderless
A poem without language, speechless, silent
I am
Looking around all the time
Just as before, for that poem
Everyone’s poem, everyone’s song!
poem by Isaac Maliya
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