I Wonder How Am I a Poet?
No great language skill,
No sufficient vocabulary,
No grip of grammar,
Frequent spelling mistake,
no laptop or desktop,
Only I will be Sometimes on rooftop,
Monkey mind jumps from rooftop
to next treetop,
Shaking bunches of fruits,
Only words fall from tip of leaves like dewdrops!
Winged feelings fly above clouds
What ever molten heart put words in different molds!
No resource,
only a second hand phone I use,
my heart is my only source!
Dictionary predict some words for some another,
I think some words to type,
it types something different
pot-pourri!
No poesy, no poetic skill,
Whatever thought comes,
I fill the page!
I can't go beyond as I am not a sage!
All started with something melting in me,
Frozen thoughts started to flow,
I am even typing very slow,
I have more poverty than poetry in heart!
My poems, are works of poetaster,
What my heart does I don't know,
Sometimes mind shines like mountain snow,
Avalanche and sliding cause frequent mistakes,
I wonder whether my esteem is at stake!
I feel like some iceberg melting,
Sometime with flowing thoughts,
Waste to float on lines!
I know, I am nothing,
I came here a nothing,
Living as a nothing,
But something which is everything,
Making my weakness public,
Sometime I feel ashamed of myself,
As my poems are making me more and more naked,
But I console myself,
Why you worry, you are still a kid,
stone happened to to melt, or just opened eyes,
wondering kid!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Only In My Mind
thoughts fire
mind blaze
run on wind
words sing mind melodies
words sing song new images
dance in heart veins flow
words shape shift
into new thoughts
concepts poems
several are written
in time heart beats
wonder stirs anew
but only in my mind
where the beauty sings
sung sight meditation
no words given unto paper
no words processed on light screen
no words kept mind record
dart of honeybird flight
bats fly sonar night vision
wing beats of wonder
words released born free
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Writer's Block!
Yes, these two words came into mind...
Wordpad opened again,
New Rich True Format Document,
Followed by Arial ten...
No text displayed as I perused,
The cursor blinking still...
In readiness for brand new words
My thoughts were yet to spill...
I typed the title, first thing done,
Two line gaps then the verse...
With not a word to lead the way,
It couldn't get much worse...
But then I thought, I'll add my name
And copyright as well,
Then type the date, as if to claim
There's nothing left to tell...
The poem stands, no words at all,
To summarise the theme,
As if the empty heart and mind
Had nothing there to dream...
But then I thought, that's such a waste!
I'll let the reader know,
That even nothing has its place
Before the words can flow...
And so, from nothing came these rhymes,
These thoughts upon a page,
Or PC screen each time I type
To reach another stage...
Who knows? The poem I write next
Could be a great success,
That may grant tremendous insight,
Some cherished happiness...
So Writer's Block, I've beaten you!
I've conquered every doubt!
God gave me something that's brand new
And now I've typed it out!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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I could have done other useful things than writing a poem
Sometimes I have regrets writing poems
Love poems, poems about virtue and heroism
Poems that explain myself, that justify
This nothingness
That fill this emptiness,
What are these but signs and metaphors of
My weaknesses,
Symbols of my hopelessness
Ciphers of my uselessness
To life’s dreams, unfulfilled, stars that I have not
Reach or even touch with the words in my lips
I could have danced, and danced so well
Sweat things out shedding sighs and skins on the floors
I could have played a role, acted my way out
Exiting through the doors of author’s characters
And feel this sense of
It was her it was him it was not me
Sometimes I feel
To be a poet is to be dumb and dead
To demand nothing but this honor
This laurel this principle
That I cannot eat that I cannot sell that I cannot
Make use of,
Useless poetry, trashy, nothing but bad breathes
Of my being
Foul and nauseating to my sense of
What I dream what I want to be
To be this great, respected man of power
One that commands rather than take orders
From someone claiming superior feathers
I have long wanted to stop but here I am again
An addict to poetry destined for rehabilitation
In distant cruel word processing centers
Just like you, here I am again, not stopping
My fingers always wanting to type the words
My mind always listening
my heart always mouthing
Words, words, words, these words
This poem
This poem is born and I am its tributary
I am this poet now without a face without a name
I am but a mouth, fingers to my hand
Always not stopping, how can I tell you why?
When I myself, do not really know. I am this poem
With an unknown author, I am this poem just written
Taking shape like a candle lighting,
Flowing from your thoughts
Taking the forms of beings unknown to us
We claim we understand we claim we can live with
You are now lost asking the way
You could have done other things than reading this poem
Precisely this is what I really feel. Do you feel it now?
Yes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Written Word Rules!
At the idea of poetry, some people seem to scoff,
As they consider it is an art form only for toffs.
They may think that the concept of poetry is boring,
And that it will leave them fast asleep and snoring.
There are all types of poems: modern and classical.
There’s something for everyone: it’s not boring at all.
The lyrics of songs are poems as such;
They often rhyme together very much.
People like to sing along with their favourite songs,
So why does the concept of poetry feel so wrong?
I’ve only started writing poetry in the last few weeks,
And, I have to admit that I thought it was just for geeks.
But, now I can see, that whoever you are,
Everyone has the potential to go really far.
I have to admit, I much prefer
The written, to the spoken word.
At night, I lay awake tossing and turning in bed,
With random thoughts running through my head.
By my pillow, I keep a pen and note pad,
To jot down any thoughts, which I’ve had.
At the top of the page, my thoughts I jot,
And I always plan out a really rough plot.
I like to include words which have a nice ring.
Words, like these, into my poetry, I like to bring.
I continually go through the alphabet time after time,
Searching for useful words which, pretty much, rhyme.
In simple terms, my ideas, I always like to express;
Complicated and fancy words, my mind doesn’t posses.
I’m sat here, writing this poem, on a speeding train,
As thought after thought, floods into my brain.
I’m writing notes on a mini pocket timetable,
In any tiny blank space which is available.
In my handbag, I’ve got no pad, but I’ve got a pen;
My scribbled notes, I just hope I can comprehend.
I really must start carrying a notepad everywhere;
To forget all these thoughts I’ve had, I couldn’t bear.
When I’m thinking of ideas, I just can’t relax;
My mind seems to buzz to the absolute max.
I’m not far now from my final destination,
And the train is due to pull into the station.
On this subject, there’s not much more to be said,
So, I’m now putting this poem well and truly to bed.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Stay Young
One way out is all you're ever gonna get
From those who'll hand it out don't never let it upset you
Cos they'll put words into our mouths they're making us feel so ashamed
Making us take the blame
Making us cold in the night
Making us question my heart and soul
And I think that it's not quite right
Hey! stay young and invincible
Cos we know just what we are
And come what may we're unstoppable
Cos we know just what we are
Feed your head with all the things you need
When you're hungry
Stay in bed and sleep all day as long as it's Sunday
Cos they'll put words into your mouth they're making you feel so ashamed
song performed by by Oasis from The Masterplan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart Of Poetry
The mystery of words wisdom of the heart to each
angelic form, the voice of emotion in verse.
The melody of heart speak in words that feels the
emotion to express the deepness of feeling in the mind.
Thoughts of words flow to the emotion to make meaning,
to the essence that moves, sensitivity inside emotion
through the words.
Intellect of mind with the knowledge of experience power of
wisdom transcend to composition to unlock the perfect will of
words justify hidden truth.
The magnificent power compose words gives roots
blossom to the garden of heart and bring fruits to the heart of men.
Love kind words are power to win oneself to transform the
beauty of inside emotion to one particular individual.
The poetry, words of wisdom comes from inner motives of
good heart that gives us privilege to express the hidden
beauty of thoughts inside mind to put it in words.
The power to dominate inside individual for beauty and
wonder purpose of life.
Copyright (c) Jocelyn Dunbar
13th of May 2006
7: 50 A.M.
poem by Jocelyn Dunbar
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I Write In Lead Part 2
You see I write in lead
cause having poetry impact my life
Everyday is empowering
Can't complete a thought 'cause
Before I can access feelings stored inside
My mind is weaving another strand of meaning and context
'Cause Poetry's deciphered my semantic properties
Unraveling down to the morphological units
Unlacing more of me
And that I don't need a pen
To bleed thoughts of truth
Let me know cause I don't understand
Can't put into concrete thoughts
My grasp of linguistics no longer suffice
To decode the relationship between
Mind and hand
pen and poet
Carefully marking down gibberish
Only understood by the two
I guess that's how it works
Some things have no outside reason to stand
But the only one that comes from within
An I write in lead cause
I can't get out the right pattern of words
I keep erasing
Always in search of a better way
To state how it is that I
am processing poetry
I don't want to use pen
cause fact of the matter is poetry
Shakes the profound core
My factory of thoughts
Engraved permanently in paper
Leaves no space to illustrate
How poetry pushes me to the edge of language
And then I realize
The edge is more like an extending bridge of vocabulary
I can continue building letters
Making meaning
There's no saying
Where interpretation will stop
That is what
poetry is
Making my hand ache
but the thought of not scribing
Leaves less space
For our bridge to extend
Connect To find a better way
to spill my insides out
Poetry's my speech therapy
Cause the more I interpret poetry's word
the more I record how its being comes forth
tough and registers in a soft key
Through syllables
The more clearly I see
through the lens I read
The world and my synthesis
is me
I want to take all of poetry in
So it lives endlessly in meaning
If the path of our voices crosses only momentarily
I'd like for poetry to still live through my expression
Aiding the love affair of
Mind hand and heart
poem by Samantha Campbell
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Volcano Of Passion
As the passion builds inside, my heart beats faster
My mouth goes dry
My hands become clammy
My eyes widen in anticipation
Out comes a flow of words, a flow of meanings
A flow of thought and feelings
I can feel it growing inside me, waiting to burst out
I really just want to shout as the words flow out onto the page
Without any rage, just a desire, a passion
For my words to have their own stage
The volcano has erupted, the words flow
Yet when the dust settles, nobody but me knows whats happened
It's my very own volcano of passion
poem by Craig Piercy
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Early Works - Feelings
In my mind and heart,
I find joy
knowing you by small words,
but never knowing
the way you feel.
Deep within my thoughts
I ponder
on the question
do your feelings
correspond with ones
my heart and my mind produce,
yet you know
little of my feelings really
for life and fate
has held me out of reach
of your life for so long.
Maybe between the small words
and quiet smiles
I can find a sign
of how your feelings flow.
Yet on the other hand,
if I’ve read things wrong
a one-sided love affair might grow.
So unconsciously in the corridors
where love lies in wait,
I stride cautiously
gaining admiration for you
at a surprising rate.
I must not
fall too quickly
for if I do
the floor might give way
and I shall be hurt
in the fall.
So I tread with caution
overturning each stone as I go.
Upon reaching, the end
there won’t be much I don’t know,
or will there.
I might know all about you
in every detail,
it might be illustrated,
but your feelings
are something only you can tell me.
So with heart and mind
I plunge forward
hoping, wishing, and praying
the right answer I will find.
18 August 1968
poem by David Harris
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On the rooftop
The day is overhung with cloud,
A curious dream alights on the rooftop.
On the verandah, I am drinking
A book of poems-it is a good day
for drinking a slow world.
Inside my brain, a line of song returns
-of Tagore, ' still you remember me'.
In this fall-leaves in pattern floats down on
the naked ground- a couple sits on a bench.
They are as old as eternity-Love froze them
three million years ago. On other side of
the park lit-up window shows a magic.
In the melody of Malkosh from sitar played by the
the great maestro behind the clouds,
I am drowned-it make me an actuality
sans flesh and bones, sans intellect and
language; I threw my heart on the pavement
it leaps onto the sky like a moon so beautiful
that words fail........
What is it? you are no longer to answer me.
In the melody of sitar I drowned my self-
It made me only an existence,
sans flesh and bones, sans intellect and language.
I threw my heart on the pavement,
it leaps to the sky like a moon so beautiful
that words fail-what is it?
poem by Aloke Mukherjee
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A note in my diary
Writing this piece of peace
From my heart to you
Reading your words
From your mind for me
Feel so numb and I can’t hear
Anything you say makes me sad
And I am going to buy a fish
A fish to feed you all because...
Some words are incomplete
Few words are baseless
I’m going to take a shower
And get back to work…
Writing a short note and will send
Few diaries of snaps and poems
Pick one of them and wet the page
Let me read your mind and your words…
poem by Nithin Jacob
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Is it you?
Read the poems and meet the words
Like they are strangers
They do not know you
And you do not know them
But then you
Get to know each other
With how you feel
And what they feel for you
They flow into your mind
And float there
Then they sink because
You rock them in your
Blood and thirst and
Loneliness, and you ask
If it is you in the poem?
Did I not tell you the magic
Of my poetry? Or of poetry itself?
I will tell you again
You read them and then feel them,
Then they become you
Because now you see yourself
Inside them
And the poems own you
Because now you own them too.
is it you? yes, it is also us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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289
Read the poems and meet the words
Like they are strangers
They do not know you
And you do not know them
But then you
Get to know each other
With how you feel
And what they feel for you
They flow into your mind
And float there
Then they sink because
You rock them in your
Blood and thirst and
Loneliness, and you ask
If it is you in the poem?
Did I not tell you the magic
Of my poetry? Or of poetry itself?
I will tell you again
You read them and then feel them,
Then they become you
Because now you see yourself
Inside them
And the poems own you
Because now you own them too.
is it you? yes, it is also us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Only Desire Will Not Work
Only desire will not give good start
Feel from inner depth and start
Poetry and emotions start with tears
That speaks of your anguish to bear
Make those feeling to be heard in words
Do nothing and wait for blessings from the lord
Words have powerful impact
That makes you to cry with skill and art
You need no pen and paper
That may be like words on water
It may go away with one fresh wave
Nothing will remain in mind for others to behave
Inject emotions that must look real
Undergone with sufferings while making deal
It may then be felt by others same as you
This is principle when you are writing true
You need not ask how they feel about poems
Let it come in form of few words by them
Simple acceptance of facts may certainly make the space
You may then have satisfaction with bright shine on face
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Poetry Is Simple
Poetry is simple gift from almighty
Be at heart kind with pity
Feel pulse of agony and pain
And also that of breeze and rain
Cuckoo may sing as usual
You may write as casual
Day may emerge and set
So poems are part of the life never to be late
Poetry doesn't come off with pen
It may write but lack depth then
It will look artificial sans charm
May look descent but without effective arms
It may have metaphors
Nice words with river and shores
Ship or boat may float over water
But situation may remain same and not alter
Poetry is poet's cry
That has come from sky
Even if sky is barren
It will shower with heavy rain
It is all in mind but needs impetus
Right thoughts with belief and trust
It may generate love and compassion
So hatred is pushed out and remains out of question
Poetry is culmination of pure thought
As if divinely flowing and honestly sought
Which turns heart into loving arena?
Where flows only flora an fauna
It has meaning behind
That an ordinary man must find
Understand when it is sung in public
Observes in mind like holy relic
There is no craze for artificial presentation
It is out of context and finds no relation
If you make people to cry over words
Then think about spirit behind and look forward
I have seen people crying
Over effective words and underlying
The importance of being so fair
In its usage and lovely fragrance in the air
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Missing You
The day is the same
Like any other day
A few varied shades
And some varied words
To ponder and say
The sun rose alone
And so did it Set
The moon is rising now
Would be time for Bed
Amidst the sun and the moon
The day and the night
The sameness and the variance
A feeling so consistent
So very deep, so very insistent
Persistent and Incisive
In my heart…
And I express it to you
Like ever before
Yes – the same old feeling
For the same old love
For the very same Beloved
From a lover’s heart…
Telling him,
Writing to him
Expressing herself
In all abundance
These words of love
Flowing in tears
Making their way
Without any fears
Nay – I don’t dread anyone
Pray – Let me say to you
That the whole day through
I’ve been badly as before -
Missing you, Missing you
Missing you, My Love
And would always do
Forever and a day…
From so far away
I can only say
For you to feel…
For once, My Love
Think not with your mind
Feel with your heart
The depth of my feelings
Flowing…
As ever before
And as always
From me to you.
The absence of You
Agonizing me, Tormenting me
On such sultry days
When I feel so lonely
Without You -
Wish you could see
The stars in my eyes
Falling and fragmenting
Like the shooting stars
In the sky.
They say:
The shooting stars
Are lucky.
Make your wishes
As you see them fall
And it all comes true.
I wonder…
The stars in my eyes
Like broken dreams
And scattered hopes
In a thousand pieces
On the glassy slopes
Of ceaseless tears…
Would they be as lucky
To melt your heart
And make you feel
How very much
How very deep
How very often
And how very truly
I mean -
When I say to you,
My Love – that I am
Missing You, Missing You,
Missing You…
And would always do
Forever and a day
In every way…
Much more than I can say.
Nay – don’t use your mind
This is for your heart
To feel for you…
To make you feel
How very much
How very deep
And how very often
I really miss you…
Like the way
I am now writing to you
For the very Fact
That I am now
Truly, deeply, madly
And so very miserably
Missing You…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Words
Words are my weapon
words are my shield
Guns and knifes just ruin lives
so words I keep concealed
Words are all I have here
they help me struggle on
Words are here forever,
when all I have is gone
In my thoughts or in my poems
Words will help ease my brain
I write down what is on my mind
Expressing love or feeling pain
Not that many I can trust
But words I can depend
Words wont turn there back on you
Words are my only friend
poem by Nic Hillen
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I Know Your Heart…
From your poetry
I know your heart
Words that heal or
Tear things apart
Words from fear
Uncertainty, doubt
Poetic words that
Unite, block out
Words of love,
Reverence, hope
Tiny words or
Large in scope
Words wisely chosen
Words that cause pain
And damaged feelings
Over and over again
Next time your mouth opens
Check heart before you speak
For things always go better
When one withholds critique
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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What Is Poetry?
A language of the heart
Its touch of words immense!
The emotions it imparts
Bears truth, or some pretense.
However read, it connects
With a message there to show.
Of myriad thoughts or objects,
In poetic lines they flow.
I have no vain expertise
I just love Poetry with passion,
And my words may be amiss
But purpose there finds fruition.
Yes, anyone can dance
To the tune of Poetry!
Inspired, find there romance
Or friendship and harmony.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!
THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!
THOSE who misspell
And those who are still coping up
With their metaphors
The techniques
Of rhyme & beat
Those who think
They do not
Know how to
Write poetry
And those
Who fear
What to say
What to write
What the others say
About their poetry
And those that doubt
Their writing
Abilities
Their thoughts
Their feelings
Their feelings
Their feelings
Yes
Yes
Their feelings
Or those who simply
Fear that they may only
Be displeasing
And disappointing
And those whose
Sense of confidence
About this thing
This poetry
This poem thing
Those that still
Hide what they
Feel to what they
Think
Is prose
Those who think that
Their life
Is not worth
Sharing in the
The beat and
Rhyme of poetry
Behold
The mere thought
About life
About a beating heart
The pulse
The eyes that blink
The fingers fidgety
That type the words
Of feelings
Of feelings
Yes
Yes
About feelings
It is all about feelings
The genuine feelings
Of your life
You type them
Each word
To another word
A chain of words
A long chain of words
Like playing the music
To the piano keys
Like strumming
The strings of a
Flamenco guitar
A certain music
A certain beat
To the sound
Of your computer keys
Hear the beat
And the rhyme
Of your computer keys
Each word
To another word
To a chain of words
To a longer chain of words
You are running a chain of feelings
You are chasing a chain of feelings long chained in your hearts wanting to be free
To be free
To be free
Yes
Yes
You, feeling to be free to run free to be all free
Like you were scattering red rose petals to this pedestal
Like you were sprinkling waters to this garden
Like you were splashing waters in the sea
Like you were bathing playing dancing in the rain
Like you were humming a tune to a trek on a hill
Like you were making love with your beloved the whole night
Behold
A poet in you is born
Behold
You are typing
A poem
You are
Feeling
And you are
By all means
Now a poet
I hereby baptize you
With that name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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