The Awesome Poet That I Know
HARINDHAR
He writes
The most amazing poems
Reminding me of Neverland
His word use so unique
He has his readers dizzy
Their inquiring minds in a whirr!
Please explain to us the meaning
Of these strange, sound effect words
So this awesome poet
By the name of, Harindhar Reddy
And I became close friends
Powerful in mind
An energetic individual
In this rat race of time
Capable in all that he does
Fellow poets intimidated
By his mastery of English literature!
poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Who Defines Meaning In A Poem?
readers impose
meaning on poems
poets especially
more than writers
of other forms
of literature
or journalism
rely on their poems
having slightly
or even greatly
different meanings
to different readers
there is no absolute
interpretation of a poem
but rather levels
and a series
of meanings
if appropriate
the theme form
and content
may be best
expressed in tones
which not
all readers
will accept
or be
comfortable with
humour entertains
and poetry
may reflect
analyze or inform
with insight
individual tastes
differ and we
all have our favourite
poets styles themes
our unifying principle
is an endearing love
appreciation of poetry
poem by Terence George Craddock
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Poet Writes Of Poems And Poets And Poetry
THE POET WRITES OF POEMS AND POETS AND POETRY
The poet writes of poems and poets and poetry,
And the world goes by
And nothing is done.
And the sky- the sky.
Is it still above?
And Love and Kindness
Are they still deep in us,
Words or not?
Without Poetry the world does not exist for the poet-
But for others,
Dreams have other names,
And Music plays on,
And singing and laughter
Go on as the Beauty of Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Yippee! Passion made Santa Singh silly,
he glanced at a nubile young filly
from Longtown in England -
his heart danced in dreamland -
But he didn't say a word to his Lilly.
quote by by Harindhar Reddy
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The life of a Poet
The poet listens
the poet hears
he writes down
all his fears.
He observes things
that others don't
going to places
that others won't.
Inspired by simple things
like a sound or smell
the poet has lots
of stories to tell.
Even when asleep
his mind isn't at rest
in fact this is the time
it's at it's creative best.
The poet can be a restless soul
his life reflected on the page
some verse can be sweet and mild
then full of anger and rage.
The poet can be mysterious
and write in a strange way
he will say Black is White
and that night is day.
The poet is an artist
but instead of paint it's the word
painters want their work to be seen
but poets just need to be heard.
poem by Kevin Halls
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So Many Poets
so many poets
so many poems
all popping up like mushrooms after the lightning and thunder
no one comes to see
no one comes to say the mushrooms are not so white not so good
so many poems
so many poets
the readers are few, the readers are lesser
but what can you do?
what do you expect?
well, i am just writing my diary, and i am the reader who reads it myself
to ease this pain,
to let myself know that with all my unrequited loves, i still dare to write
and exist.
and i don't really care.
so many poets
look at these poems
they all look and sound the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I once met a belle named Nicole Rick,
Her erotic curves gave me a kick,
I stroked on her bum -
She moaned without rum.
To beginners, Rick's a limerick.
quote by by Harindhar Reddy
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Boom Boom Human Rat Trapped in a Tiki tiki Room
(Adventure with Devices: Pun, polarization, Ballad, Anecdote)
1
Abracadabra! 10 to 1 counted
I, nature dreams primal era -
Rain zip-zaps, wind blows, creek
Brims over its
Rim, fish
Boogies, tortoise
woogies flower wigwags
As spring breaks - drones-hum, donkeys-bray,
Ferrets-dook, Goats-bleat, hares-drum and men-smile.
2
Bam - Jaguar growled, dubbed Malone with wiz-biz -
Jumped into Sussex - Charles became
Diana; India took form
Of Guyana,
Titan -
Satan, Malone -
Gnome, A-Z voodooed! Warrior -
Underdog, a Journey Wayward - Vroom!
Wiz downed the ladder like bozo with broom.
3)
'I eat words, coach wonks: preach famed manners - 'grunt,
Rumble-grumble' blamed banners say!
With mock-scoffing remarks
Miss Tex named me
Mulkraj
Anand's Baka: while
Watching Spanish football,
Tiki-taka - rats pulled a cat,
flimflammed my Hat', flobber-gobbered Malone!
4)
Hubba-hubba! Shakira Boot-scoots at
Honk'tonk 'Waka Waka', this time
For Africa, world cup
FIFA, fun filled,
Short lived -
In dusk, all seas
Meet Antarctica like
Men bite dust yet run rat-race with
Out learning why - trapped in pell-mell, Bubba!
(c) Copyrights 2012 @ harindhar reddy
**I'm grateful 2 Anupama Dafre for naming the Form**
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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If The Poems Keep Flowing
IF THE POEMS KEEP FLOWING
If the poems keep flowing
And the metaphors ripen on the trees
And the dreams say words even they do not understand
And all life in sound becomes a magical prescence of music
If all good things come in this process of writing
And my silence is forever stricken from the record of Time
Then why and how and where and must will I become again
Carry me along taddy like you done at the toy fair?
So after all the years of reading
Lost too in the flow of the words of others
Unable to hear myself without hearing them
Because all other poets are the poet I am and would be
And all I take in me slowly memorizing line by line phrase by phrase word by word
Is a kind of blessing
Which even this hushed hearing now cannot really explain
Or take away on the river of lost light forever
Shabbat Shalom.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We pass the word around we ponder how the case is put by different people, we read the poetry we meditate over the literature we play the music we change our minds we reach an understanding. Society evolves this way, not by shouting each other down, but by the unique capacity of unique, individual human beings to comprehend each other.
quote by Lewis Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hush! Hush! A LONELY RAT with a Human Hat Chokes in Silence!
Lo! A lonely flower in the garden of the east,
Look! A lonely star in the night sky of the west!
Ugh! A lonely cow faces the heat in the north,
So is a lonely boy admits his defeat in the south.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!
Each day someone wakes up with a frown,
To make up the loss with a groan and a drown,
For rumors keep flying like houseflies in the town,
That keeps one tormented in the hell - a mental breakdown.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!
One is a loner as he builds walls instead of bridges,
Others are loners – shriveled up inside the nut, no repair;
Some others are broken hearts in despair,
All the others are related yet separated by egos and ridges.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!
Lonesome man talks alone at night;
Lonely man walks alone in the broad daylight;
Lonely man speaks when I'm with you,
Lonely man cranks when my heart's untrue.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!
For a crowd is not company just appearance in the show!
And faces are but a gallery of pictures in the showcase,
Talks but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love just a show!
Separate we come, and separate we go in any case,
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>
(With heart and soul dedicated to my fellow poet AMIT RAY)
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Oh The Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS
Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –
What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?
I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-
Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-
Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-
Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Tip-top! Club culture!
Ball and pub culture, hip-hop!
All fools culture, boo-boo!
haiku by Harindhar Reddy
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We pass the word around; we ponder how the case is put by different people, we read the poetry; we meditate over the literature; we play the music; we change our minds; we reach an understanding. Society evolves this way, not by shouting each other down, but by the unique capacity of unique, individual human beings to comprehend each other.
Lewis Thomas in The Medusa and the Snail (1979)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You are the poet
Poet is a journalist
Watches the feelings
Watches the emotions
Watches the world
Watches the light and
Watches the dark
He thinks everywhere
Others can’t imagine
-o-
Chasing the thoughts
Searching the words
Forming the sentences
To give the expression
To put the life in it
-o-
Poet is like a cook
Collecting good ingredients
Cooking the feelings to
Present in better way
-o-
Poet is like a soldier
Fighting in the war and
Fighting with the self
Feeling the pain and
Bleeding the emotions
Making room for self
To express the story
To save the people
-o-
Poet is like mother
Cooking the soft food
Feeding smoothly
Treating the readers like his own kids
Reader’s happiness is poet’s happiness
If you can’t praise, no problem
But don’t forget to acknowledge
-o-
Poet is the center of universe
Editors, Music directors,
Composers, singers, musicians,
Media everybody is rotating around
-o-
Poet writes to quench intellectuals
Poet writes to entertain good listeners
Poet writes to move hearts
Poet writes for a cause
Poet write for entertainment
Poets write to express themselves
Poets write to share their feelings
-o-
When time is running
Poem is the history
In present it reflects the story
Poem gives the hope in future
-o-
Poet is the planter
Plants seeds into your hearts
Make sure that it sprouts
Brings the thoughts into actions
-o-
Poet is the director behind your actions
Poet is the motivator behind your feelings
Poet is the coach who puts you on track
Poet is person whom your heart likes
-o-
Poet is the soldier when he uses poem as bullet
Poet is the coach when his poem moves your heart
Poet is the love, when he gives poem as flower
Poet is the parent, when he consoles you in your troubles
Poet is the healer who heals souls
Poet enters different roles
To justify the poem and to justify the people
-o-
Poem is the form of literature
We can find in holy books
Poem is the feelings
Poem touches the hearts
-o-
Sun can be seen in day
Moon can be seen in night
But poem is there day and night
Poem is powerful than nature
Poem don’t have life and death
Just it flows from heart to heart
Poet is the instrument
In the hands of the poem
-o-
If you drink a cup of alcohol
It may stay there just for hours
If you read a good poem
Nobody knows how long it gives the kick
-o-
When you have time, read a good poem
When you have time, write some poetry
When you have time, share a poem
-o-
You will be the poet, when you read a poem
You will be the poet, when you put on paper
You can be the poet to change your self
You can be the poet to change the world
You must be a poet, to enjoy this life
Waiting for you, to listen to your poem
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
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Sonnet: the Master Poet
’Tis God who inspires in me fire!
He is the Master-Sculptor and Poet!
I play a melody with strings well-set;
God-kindled heart of mine becomes a lyre.
Every poet speaks to God in his mind,
In ways so strange that both can understand;
The Poet is a singer in his band;
To God’s tenets, his songs will always bind,
With time, he communicates very fast;
The Poet takes up every word of His;
And so the poems get very well cast;
As if God gave the poet’s mind- bliss.
To thee belongs my poems, O my Lord!
They are made great byThy divine accord.
3-3-2000
poem by John Celes
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Poets Of Many Types
Indeed they are so many types of poets, and of the poets I would not say anyone is more important then the other.
For the readers each have their desired tastes.
So they're most certainly should beware upon opening the page.
Cause dangers do lurk, some quite perverse.
While others seem to insult either the heart or mind.
The poet didn't write it for you specifically in mind.
But instead just to describe his feelings at the time.
Whether be with his eyes in sight, his nose in smell, his fingers in touch, his ears in sound, and some would say his mind and heart with emotions.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Lunch With a Poet
I had lunch with a poet, just the other day.
A poet who has written fine and lofty verse,
Conveying his experiences, emotions and his ideas, in
Vivid, imaginative ways, condensed in simple language,
Choosing words for sound and power,
Rather than impressing readers with poetic adulterations.
Almost apologetically, he said he uses 'nickel words'
To write his inner thoughts. It was as if he were at fault,
As though he thought those simple sounds
Had lessened the intent of his poetic worth.
I emphasized how wrong he was, and tried
To make clear, a poet writes in sympathy with his reader,
Overleaping the barriers of understanding by the simplicity
Of his language, and of his words.
To write with words of misty meaning does not make
A mystic.
To write with vulgar words does not lift up the poem
On wings of song, it only floats as high as the poet's
Commonality who, mistaking flatulence for inspiration, becomes
Enmeshed in a literary byproduct of the foulest of excretion and Smells.
My friend failed to intellectually understand,
But spiritually Accepts, as his writings reveal,
That clarity of thought and mind is the poet's
Highest point of the poet's integrity.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Poems from heaven
poems from heaven come to me in my sleep
i awake in the morning and i start to weep.
for in my dreams i see the loved ones who had past
they give me these words which will forever last
you are my child which i gave to the world at birth
i did not know at the time- if and what
your life would be worth.
but i knew in my heart that there was a purpose in your life
now i am in a better existence looking down upon you
and the lord has shown me what you have to do..
you are here to spread the word to all the other poets.
that they could reach more people than they
could ever dare to imagine.
open up your hearts and minds, and let
your loved ones souls with yours entwine.
listen to what they have to say
for with their words, this world
will be a better place.
.these are the poems from heaven of which
i talk about.
and of this i have no doubt.
to all the poets of the world, continue
to spread the words that come into your hearts and minds
for they will be here way beyond our time.
.
.
poem by Louis Rams
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Hello, Saint VALENTINE - See me - a BROKEN-HEARTED Fellow: Part-2
While love is burning my empire
She is stoking embers of hidden fires in me, she, a vampire!
Alas! I landed in no man's land and in fire
Yet in tantalizing problems and in dire...
She is my glass of wine, no logic!
And no magic! But love is all time tragic!
There is a trend set by fellow poets......
Sing and dance and drink and sink to become idiots
In the moments of saddest without any energy;
So I too started with this mourning elegy;
She is my glass of wine, no logic!
And no magic! But love is all time tragic!
Skepticism, Hamletan in-action crept in me
Like snail, and my love is doomed and tsunami is she!
She likes lollipop! But I'm a big flop with this sullen rhyme...
Train! Train! No brain but love is all time human crime;
She is my glass of wine, no logic!
And no magic! But love is all time tragic!
Morrow! Morrow! No tomorrow.......
But borrow! Borrow! Only sorrow......
Now, ten million dollars question is, why?
I don't know who am I?
She is my glass of wine, no logic!
And no magic! But love is all time tragic!
............................................. ................................................. .................
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>READ PART ONE >>>>>>>>>>>
Big NOTICE BOARD: Sorry, if you LIKE 2 make your reading comprehensive
Just take a break! Now READ PART1 to make your reading wholesome.
Hello, Saint VALENTINE - See me - a BROKEN-HEARTED Fellow: Part-1
poem by Harindhar Reddy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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