Mini Poems
Mini poetry
On a wall, written:
I’m a chicken
And proud of it
A grazing burro
Makes a sad landscape
More perky
The Philippines
Where old bachelors go
To find a quiet bride.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry acts
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry Is
poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry
poem by Daniel Romero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
O Philippines!
O Philippines, my beloved country!
An archipelago of islands in Southeast Asia,
Rich in culture and society.
Her fame spreads like a 'flavored shisha.'
A variety of rare animals you'll see
Such as tarsiers, tamaraws, flying lemurs...
Marine species and coral reefs by the sea.
O Great Philippines! Her beauty shines!
Come now and visit Philippines.
Go to Boracay and Palawan Islands,
As one of the wonders of the world today
And join the hundreds of tourists each day.
And yes! I'm proud to live in Philippines
With so many loving memories.
O Philippines! I greatly admire!
For Her I'll give up my life.
She made me
Of who I am today,
An abiding citizen to the country.
O Philippines! I greatly admire!
poem by Alon Calinao Dy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem Which Makes No Reference To Poetry
A POEM WHICH MAKES NO REFERENCE TO POETRY
A poem which makes no reference to poetry
And does not wonder who and what the poet is-
A poem that makes meanings of life outside the world of its own self- reflection-
A poem that is what life is
In some far and different way-
That poem
Waiting elsewhere
Written by someone else
So great in its beauty
And so powerful in its light
That poem written by someone else
About something I know nothing about
In a way I never dreamed or imagined
That poem is not written by me
And never will be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard
The Poetry Of The Old
THE POETRY OF THE OLD
The Poetry of the old
Is a smaller poetry
A more fragile poetry
A quieter poetry.
The Poetry of the old
Does not raise its voice
It sings to itself softly
And does not really hope to be heard.
The poetry of the old
Is a quiet poetry
And its name
Is mostly ‘Sadness’.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At Play In A Garden of Words (The Problem With Poetry, or, Harvesting the Pea Patch)
I’m put upon to ponder the problem of poetry
& thus, I proudly or, perhaps, perfunctorily,
Ponderously pronounce with a preponderance,
Even a plethora, of p’s:
Poetry is pithy, prankish and perky,
Pertinent and impertinent, too
It’s prophetic, pathetic, pragmatic and proud
Poetry pretends, preaches, points out,
Points to, and down, and under
Poetry’s petals promise purity and peace
Poetry’s pristine, picky and pale
Poetry is practical, prudent, is pregnant,
Gives pause
Poetry’s precise, prayerful, powerful
Poetry’s presence is portentious and playful
Poetry’s a mosaic portrayal, a
Painted portraiture, perfect, profane
Prosaic, it is not,
Preposterous, it is
It is ponderous, political, porous, pontifical
Peripatetic and perennial,
Prescient, pedantic, possessive and puerile
Perfidious, perceptible, perplexing, perfectible
Poetry perseverates, preserves, perseveres
Sometimes perplexing, never perishable,
It pulses it prowls, it probes and it pries
Poetry is a perverse, precocious, pubescent prankster
Presumptuously posing,
Priapic and prudish
It prances, and preens periwinkle plumage
In place of deep purple prose
A persuasive, peculiarly pleasant peacock,
Poetry promulgates poems!
Poetry, dear poet, exists
Poetry, dear poet, persists
Poetry, dear poet, persists and preoccupies
Poetry can never desist
poem by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bore me
'I might be dead' she said
'or just maybe not fully alive
I hate this in-between state.'
.
'Perhaps you are neither; I said
'perhaps you are just bored unto a numbness that feels like death.
Numb makes you want to react so you
overcompensate with a strained vivaciousness.'
'Yes that is it because' she said 'I became 'perky' and outgoing
which was just the opposite of what I actually felt
but I was very good at it and at times I would forget.
and think that 'perky' was me.
That face would leave me especially at night
and I would begin to doubt again as to my true state,
dead, alive or in between.
'So what do you think is the thing to do? ' I said
'Well dead and perky is not something I now see is sustainable.
So bored is the face of my dilemma
and the cure for boredom is circumstance and clear goals
but I don't seem to have any that I can discern.
I don't seem to have any talent or passion which drives me forward.
I rise up only to fall back into the ditch
feeling phoney.
There is nothing which moves me.
What I am to do?
'Well' I said 'tell me about the boredom, its sounds interesting to me.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Conversation
You write
Mediocre,
He told me
I told him
Go and
Read -
The superb
Writers, don't
Read me ;)
He said:
I was only joking
To rub you the
Wrong way ;)
I love your poetry.
I said:
Let me put it
The right way.
It's not only
My poetry…
You also love me ;)
He blushed and said:
How well you know me!
Yes, I love the perky
Poetess, more than her
Poetry :)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Totally Biased
I do not often write free form
to me it is not poetry.
Freely admit my prejudice
I think it’s just a passing phase
Although I can appreciate
poetic and well written prose
This does not make it poetry
When I consult my dictionary
it makes it very clear to me.
All writing must be one of those
It can’t be both at he same time.
Prose poetry cannot exist
an obvious oxymoron
Though modern writer still insist
that what they write is poetry
.It may be really beautiful
and well presented on the page
but definitely not poetry.
Why can they not be satisfied
with their well written thoughts in prose.
Why do they call it poetry
a dandelions not a rose.
Its meter defines poetry
it doesn’t even need to rhyme.
Even free verse had its rules
but writers seem to think today
There are no rules anything goes.
I nail my colours to the mast
Not afraid to let my bias show.
31-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You are my poetry
You are my poetry
You are the beautiful words
Written by my pen
You are my inspiration
You inspire words of happiness
You inspire a smile upon my face
A smile that is able to create
A whole new world of poetry
Poetry of just you and me
You are my poetry
I join you within the words
Within something that makes everything happy
Within something that makes me happy
poem by Rebecca Rowback
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Chicken Hearted
(bill justis)
My girlfriend slipped and fell
Now she's hanging from a cliff
I can't come to her rescue
But these flowers i must sniff
You see i'd really like to save her
But i aint got the nerve
I'm chicken hearted
I'm chicken hearted
I'm tryin' to kiss my girl
And it makes me want to faint
I'm scared of my own shadow
And afraid of what i ain't
I've no inspiration
I'm kinda yellow...
I'm chicken hearted,
I'm chicken hearted
Mama's in the workshop
Daddy's in the jail
I seem to be afraid
To go to work and make their bail
I guess my folks will have to stay there
Cos i'm just like a snail
I'm chicken hearted,
I'm chicken hearted
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
All Poetry... All The Time
All Poetry … All The Time
I Love To Read In Rhythm & Rhyme
I Love To Write Of Wistful Wishes
And Lips Speak Of Love Like Bold Kisses
All Poetry … All The Time
Poetry, Is A Medication For My Mind
Poetry, Has A Power To Overthrow Pain
Poetry, Should Be Spoken, Again and Again
All Poetry … All The Time
I Am Really Thrilled To Find
More Poet Lovers, and Their Word Artistry
All The Time … All Poetry
All Poetry … All The Time
May Each Poetic Puff, Rise & Climb
Into The Clouds, Up To The Stars
(Or Maybe Just Linger, Where You Are) …
All Poetry … For All Of Time
Written & ©: 5/24/10
By: MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is Poetry? ? ? ? ?
Poetry is the WORST FELLING
that make me CRY
Poetry is like a CROCODILE
Eating its PREYPoetry is a monster,
That its the brains up.
Poetry is like a VILLIAN
That makes my brain ROT
poetry is a WHICH
that makes my brain FLY
Poetry is the WORST FEELING
that makes me CRY
poem by Sarah Iqbal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Have Written My Poetry For The Day
I HAVE WRITTEN MY POETRY FOR THE DAY
I have written my poetry for the day
I can rest-
But there is no end to it
When it wants to come-
And why should there be an end to it now?
One day there will be
Without my trying.
Let my poetry come then
Let some song in me be free
Let whatever feeling I have
And especially whatever joy
Say itself-
Come now my words
Tell me again
Life is good.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poems As Diary
to know me
there is no other but this poetry
to know poetry however
please do not read
my diary
for this diary may fail the standards
of your poetry
but at any rate everyday poetry is a diary
what makes us fume like a mad cow
what makes us whistle like a satisfied lover
what makes us surrender in defeat and shout victory in triumphs
little things and big things
all summed up
in this new thing: diary as poetry
and poetry as diary.
we do not even have to rhyme
does life rhyme at all my friend?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
MAMMA'S BAKED CHICKEN AND RICE...by Talile Ali
YOU DON'T KNOW HOW SPECIAL AND NICE
I FELT ABOUT MAMMA'S CHICKEN AND RICE
BUT FOR ME AT THE TIME IT WAS BEYOND PRICE
EVERY DAY MAMMA'S CHICKEN AND RICE
WHEN I WAS SICK AND NEEDED YOUR CARE
WITHOUT GATTING A LASH CHICKEN AND RICE WAS THERE
THE DOCTORS TOLD YOU BLAND, AND THAT WAS FINE BY ME
CHICKEN AND RICE MADE BLAND SPECIAL FOR ALL TO SEE
AT FIRST AFTER DAY'S OF HAVING THIS SERVED TO ME
I WAS PISSED AS HELL TILL I HAD A TALK WITH MY BUDDY
EVERY DAY HE'D COME OVER TO GET ME TO PLAY
AND HE'D SEE ME FINISHING MY CHICKEN AND RICE EVERY DAY
HE SAID THAT YOUR MOMMA MUST REALLY LOVE YOU
SHE MAKES THAT EVERY DAY, AND ON THE WEEK ENDS TO
SHE GOES IT SO QUICKLY AND IT SMELLS SO GOOD
YOUR MOMMA MUST REALLY LOVE, I WISH MY MOMMY WOULD
I LOOKED AT MY BUDDY AND SAW IN HIS FACE
THE TRUTH AND THE HONESTY ALL PLAIN IN PLACE
AND FROM THAT DAY FORWARD I SMILED WHUEN I HEARD
MY MOM CALL MY NAME TO COME EAT THOSE THREE WORDS
CHICKEN AND RICE, CHICKEN AND RICE I SAY
MY MOM MADE THE BEST, IN HER OWN SPECIAL WAY
WHEN EVER I AM FEELING WSPECIALLY NICE
I WOULD ALWAYS FIND AN EXCUSE TO HAVE CHICKEN AND RICE
SO MOMMA, YOU NEEDED TO JUST HERE ME SAY
I APPRECIATE THE LOVE THAT YOU GIVE ME EVERY DAY
AND THOUGH IT MAY SEEM LIKE I AM BEING UNKIND
IF SO, I'M JUST BEING FOOLISH AND MANIPULATIVE THAT TIME
YOU ALWAYS COULD BRING OUT THE BABY IN ME
AND FOR THAT AND THE CARING THIS POEM YOU DID SEED
THANK YOU MOM, DEAR LADY FOR ALL OF THE ABOVE
AND THE CHICKEN AND RICE AND THESE MEMORIES OF LOVE
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mamma's Baked Chicken And Rice
YOU DON'T KNOW HOW SPECIAL AND NICE
I FELT ABOUT MAMMA'S CHICKEN AND RICE
BUT FOR ME AT THE TIME IT WAS BEYOND PRICE
EVERY DAY MAMMA'S CHICKEN AND RICE
WHEN I WAS SICK AND NEEDED YOUR CARE
WITHOUT GATTING A LASH CHICKEN AND RICE WAS THERE
THE DOCTORS TOLD YOU BLAND, AND THAT WAS FINE BY ME
CHICKEN AND RICE MADE BLAND SPECIAL FOR ALL TO SEE
AT FIRST AFTER DAY'S OF HAVING THIS SERVED TO ME
I WAS PISSED AS HELL TILL I HAD A TALK WITH MY BUDDY
EVERY DAY HE'D COME OVER TO GET ME TO PLAY
AND HE'D SEE ME FINISHING MY CHICKEN AND RICE EVERY DAY
HE SAID THAT YOUR MOMMA MUST REALLY LOVE YOU
SHE MAKES THAT EVERY DAY, AND ON THE WEEK ENDS TO
SHE GOES IT SO QUICKLY AND IT SMELLS SO GOOD
YOUR MOMMA MUST REALLY LOVE, I WISH MY MOMMY WOULD
I LOOKED AT MY BUDDY AND SAW IN HIS FACE
THE TRUTH AND THE HONESTY ALL PLAIN IN PLACE
AND FROM THAT DAY FORWARD I SMILED WHUEN I HEARD
MY MOM CALL MY NAME TO COME EAT THOSE THREE WORDS
CHICKEN AND RICE, CHICKEN AND RICE I SAY
MY MOM MADE THE BEST, IN HER OWN SPECIAL WAY
WHEN EVER I AM FEELING WSPECIALLY NICE
I WOULD ALWAYS FIND AN EXCUSE TO HAVE CHICKEN AND RICE
SO MOMMA, YOU NEEDED TO JUST HERE ME SAY
I APPRECIATE THE LOVE THAT YOU GIVE ME EVERY DAY
AND THOUGH IT MAY SEEM LIKE I AM BEING UNKIND
IF SO, I'M JUST BEING FOOLISH AND MANIPULATIVE THAT TIME
YOU ALWAYS COULD BRING OUT THE BABY IN ME
AND FOR THAT AND THE CARING THIS POEM YOU DID SEED
THANK YOU MOM, DEAR LADY FOR ALL OF THE ABOVE
AND THE CHICKEN AND RICE AND THESE MEMORIES OF LOVE
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Know A Wall When I See One
(j.b. rudd/jerry salley)
Blue eyes, brown hair, yeah thats my past standing there
Turning every head in here tonight
That smile, that laugh, everyone is staring at
The one thing that stands between
Me and the rest of my life
I know a wall when I see one
And Im looking at one right now
Heartaches written all over this one
One I cant get around
Wheres a door when you need one
I know a wall when I see one
The hurt had stopped, at least thats what I thought
Up until what use to be walked in
Just flesh and bone, it might as well be stone
cause its a memory I cant get past
Thats what Im up against
I know a wall when I see one
And Im looking at one right now
Heartaches written all over this one
One I cant get around
Wheres a door when you need one
I know a wall when I see one
After all my hearts been through
Look what its run into
I know a wall when I see one
And Im looking at one right now
Heartaches written all over this one
One I cant get around
Wheres a door when you need one
I know a wall when I see one
I know a wall
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!