Poetry In My Ears
The poetry in my
inner ears
now reduced to gestures
terrific imagery's
intimate interludes allude
menagerie gallery aviary
resonant reach
...elude
there is no deliverance from
mundane profane
long weary margins common
swan song swallow
cursive coo sings
taunting misplaced echo
poem by Randy Resh
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The Song Of An African
The Song Builds
The Song Destroys
The Song Dispenses
In Suspence The Song Reveals
In Time I Sing It
At Times I Bring It
To The Bank Near To My Heart
I Lie Awake With My Sleeping Eyes
And The Song Sings Herself
The Lyric Sings Himself
The My Mind Braniwashed With Honey To My Ears
The Song Feeds
The Song Provides Seeds
With Knowledge It Is Food.
With Wisdom Declared Wate
The Song Heals
And Yes In Pays The Bilss
For Long Named It Belief
So Long Came To My Mind Hardwork
Percevearance Its Clan To Tribe Success
The Song Is Mine
Oh Yes It Is.
poem by Anele ''The African Son'' kaPotelwa
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Poetry Sings
When poetry is anger
It sings to me furiously
Like thunder clashing into the Earth
With vigorous authority
When poetry is comfort
It sings to me gently
Like a mother's touch
Soothing her child from an afflicting pain
When poetry is bitterness
It sings to me harshly
Like back stabbers leaving another
In the cold, because they can't handle the situation
When poetry is driven
It sings to me energetically
Like an underdog, whom start to finish
Strives itself to victory
When poetry is hate
It sings to me vengefully
Coming towards you like a nuclear missle
Intended to dispose of your existence
When poetry is love
It sings to me tenderly
As if an angel are tranqualizing my ears
With their divine voices
When poetry is vulgar
It sings to me villianously
As if I'm it's prize
For the obscene thoughts it deviously conjers up
When poetry is sultry
It sings to me passionately
Like an enticing hot and moist body
Engulfed with lust, provocatively captivating me
When poetry is fear
It sings to me timidly
Like an individual with anxiety towards a phobia
Prefering gone from their conscious
When poetry is courage
It sings to me bravely
Like a patriot who defends its rights
Against the tyrants of his/her nation
When poetry is frustration
It sings to me dissatisfied
Like someone continues to achive
While loved ones never pleased, believing they're inadequate
When poetry is awed
It sings to me speechlessly
Can't believe one's eyes, can't believe one's ears
Don't know what to concieve
When poetry is sadness
It sings to me tearfully
Like a lonesome soul alone with oneself
With no companionship found
When poetry is ecstastic
It sings to me enthusiatically
With overpowering joy and intense eagerness
That one gets when lively
When poetry is hidden
It sings to me quietly
Like governments top secrets
A plan to screw its nation for its own advantage
When poetry is openess
It sings to me loudly
Making public its soul
With intense noise revealing its dark mysteries
When poetry is offensive
It sings to me hideously
Listening to horrible sounds
Like fingernails slowly scrapping on a chalkboard
When poetry is knowledge
It sings to me wisely
Like information at your fingertips
Lodged in your photographic memory
poem by R.K. Cowles
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The Sing Of A Song Of Life
a song in our eyes
a song in our imagery ears
a song in our hands
a song in our feet
It's a distant song
It's a future song
A song who says
beyond future, beyond distances, beyond nothing,
a song that resembles your life, so tell it
in a song as if you were telling it in a story
poem by Anye'a B. Pinnock
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May This Song Reach Your Heart
A strong young woman sings,
Her voice so divine.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She showed the epitome
Of soul, body, and mind.
'May this song reach your heart.'
She sang to the heavens
With uplifting spirit.
'May this song reach your heart.'
Her song was made
So the world could hear it.
'May this song reach your heart.'
The song she sang
Was that of fine art.
'May this song,
Reach your heart.'
poem by Devon McElveen
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Insanity
There is no such thing as normal, just mundane
To swear thou art normal is profane
In each heart morsel, I beat pain
And go to the clinic and claim am sane
And others doth be insane
To my affliction, and my hurt vanity
All around me is a circle of insanity
I attempt to imprint myself on its orb
But in its vortex I doth absorb
The populace, society, and its ignorance
Mundane, profane, pain and insane…..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Echo
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Everywhere I go
There's something I really need
Everyone I know
Is someone I want to be
Even though
I don't really know me
I better pick it up
Before I let it slip away
I better stick it out
Before I take another day
Into mouth
Everything I say fades out
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Can I open up your eyes?
Only when the clouds break?
Can I feel the light?
Even though the world shakes
Every night,
You're my quiet satellite
Can I hold you close?
Do her out of focus
And everything I know
I don't even know this
It all falls through
I'm here and I hear you
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Cause I need to, just to reach you
Do you hear me?
Coming clearly?
Am I hollow?
Just an echo
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
Echo, echo...
We come, we go-woah
No I don't want to be just another
Echo, echo...
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Swan Song(dying sentence)
Remember me, remember my swan song,
I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live it all over again,
I can't re-orient myself,
I can't live that stain of my plastered smile again,
Let this be the last moment,
Let me say the last good-bye,
It won't count anything now,
So let me lay in silence,
Life has treated me well and I have had enough of it,
Lets end this game,
Enough of milling in and out,
Hear my swan song,
And let this end now,
I need to be away,
away from these thorns,
far far away,
Where you'll only see my memories,
my shadows,
my untold stories buried after me,
and my last swan song,
Hear my swan song,
I feel like a fish out of water,
from pillar to post,
fallen back upon,
Let me be buried under sand,
let me give my final test,
I'll never return, its time to sing,
sing my last swan song,
Hear my swan song,
maybe this moment or the other,
my soul would rest in peace,
before disappearing,
let me sing,
sing my swan song,
I only remember now the memory lived in me,
a perfectly encapsulated morsel,
of a good past,
from piebald brush strokes swaying,
to barren now, that I'd become,
As I'll say my last goodbye,
hear my swan song,
because now you'll never hear my voice again,
for ever and ever and ever...
Written on 5/6/11
poem by Ayesha Riaz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What's the real meaning of Poetry
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
what is the real meaning of you?
is it the sonnets, the haiku's the imagery
no one will ever know.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
I know the real meaning of you
to express my feelings and thoughts on paper
to be able to publish you.
Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
you tell me the meaning of you.
poem by Nadia Potenza
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Creativity/ Like My Father On His Deathbed
Poetry is not about words.
Poetry flows
from experiences that hover beyond words,
a shining memory sounding muffled
hidden behind a familiar door.
The words of a poem
are the funeral of my old father,
magnificent, feisty and watchful,
available to the last
through indefinable gestures
and a shining silence
existent somewhere else now
as poetry is, the real poem,
not the heavy coffin of the print.
Poetry pines for it’s lost world,
its hidden home,
like a swan still singing on a plate.
It is homesick, alone, away
from its chosen canyons and
mountain trees around the lake,
vibrant with colour
in memories that glow
for a lifetime.
You know, as I do, poetry is not words,
but is a royal personage,
my father on his deathbed.
poem by Iain Trousdell
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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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
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An Oarsman
Where is the coast?
Just in the boat
With no one around
He sings even a song!
In western horizon
The king 'Sun' sleeps alone
Merry clouds go brown
(So far) He sings the song!
A shower of rain
Can't let him pain
Miss.Windy starts to frown
(So far) He sings the song!
With force of angry waves
Even rocks can be damaged
How about his wooden bound?
(So far) He sings the song!
His old rudder shapes him solo
How to manage to and fro
Further rowing, no allowed
(So far) He sings the song!
Oh, my dear oarsman!
I wanna know your song
Give people to be strong
Like you, never down! !
poem by Eindaray Kyaw
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Poetry is immortal
Poetry is immortal
yet so is the oracle
but poetry is no prophecy
it is energy from an inner sanctuary
one filled with creativity and imagery
yes poetry is immortal
it dives through any portal
whether it be mind, heart or soul
it slides through like a pole
poetry is everything and nothing
it is brilliant and disgusting
but it is still poetry
a magic that is everlasting
one that is never passing
it is a miracle
poetry is immortal
poem by Adens Kamwi
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Of Poetry
Of poetry, beautiful is the name,
For my heart has manufactured its claim
Of words that adjusted it to flame.
Of poetry, wonderful is the power,
For my heart has blossomed like the light flower
With rosiness it arranges in shower.
Of poetry, tremendous is the peak,
For my heart through and through its beat did speak
Of profoundness that boosted it to tweak.
Of poetry, creative is the work
For my heart, in thought imagery did lurk.
Along inspiration, up it did perk.
Of poetry, heavenly is the joy,
For my heart smelt it like a baby boy
Of whiteness who does with glee to employ.
Of poetry, authentic is the life,
For my heart has acquired truth that is rife,
Decent in harmony to free it from strife.
Of poetry, intimate is the food,
For my heart to be lightened with high mood,
Be nutrified in a circumstance good.
Of poetry, radiant is the light,
For my heart got the view of sunshine bright,
It ascended up to the sky in flight.
Of poetry, elating is the drink,
For my heart towards merriment to link
Ever so aeonian to it to think
Of poetry, delightful is the sound,
For my heart to its music rich, is bound.
Bliss of paradise that soared in is found.
Of poetry, passionate is the love,
For my heart comports mildly like the dove
Shining with a lot of warm light above.
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rock In The Weary Land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock In The Weary Land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rock In A Weary Land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
None of this moves me,
I should be weeping but it only hurts when I yawn
I let it blow through me, and its gone!
Im dressed like a scarecrow
Stripped of all my power, as if some judge in judgement said
Off with his great coat, and his head!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Meaningless movies
On the screen behind the band thats blowing flowing shapes
Half of their music is on tape
My mentor and champion is busy tilting at the windows of his stately home
The daemon hes grappling
Is his own!
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
His letter lies open
His accusations flow like poison from his every word
My heart would be broken, but for her
The fag-end of winter
Im in shock! Im on the ropes! I dont know whats become!
She plucks the splinter from my thumb
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
Yes my love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
My love is my rock
In the long, low, weary land
In the weary land!
My rock in a weary land
My rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land
Hey!
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
A rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
My love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock is my love is my rock in a weary land
In a weary land!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reaching Out
Reaching out is part of our lives.
We reach out for love and friendship.
We reach out for a great many things
and some of those things we reach out for
fall within our grasp.
While other things we reach out for are unattainable,
but we reach out for them
just the same again and again.
It is up to us to choose which is which.
Love and friendship
are always within our grasp
if we reach out for them long enough.
It is some of the other things
we reach out forever for,
which we can never attain.
Riches and that peace of mind
that seem to elude our grasp,
still we reach out for them
time and time again.
17 February 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swan Lee
Swan lee got up at the running foot pow-wow,
Heading from the fire to his waiting canoe.
Chattering squaw untied the wigwam door,
The chief blew smoke rings two by two!
The land in silence stands...
Swan lee, his boat by the bank in the darkness,
Loosened the rope in the creek is entwined.
A feather from the wing of a wild young eagle,
Pointed to the land where his fortune he'd find
The land in silence stands
Swan lee paddled on from the land of his fathers,
His eyes scanned the undergrowth on either side.
From the shore hung a hot, heavy, creature infested
Tropic, swan lee had a bow by his side
The land in silence stands
Swan lee kept time, half on land, half on water,
Grizzly bear and raccoon his fare.
He followed his ears to the great water fall,
Swan lee knew deep down that his squaw was there!
The land in silence stands....
Suddenly the rush of the mighty great thunder,
Confronted swan lee as his song he sang,
In the dawn, with his squaw, he was battling homewards
It was all written down by long silas lang.
The land in silence stands...
The land in silence stands...
The land in silence stands.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be And So On
To Be or…
The swan on the lake doesn’t know it is a swan,
they say. How do they know? A swan may look
at us and say to another swan “Darling humans
don’t who they are.” Quite right my lovely, they
are daft that way” (swans have lot in common
with actors, the lake is their stage and we are
their adoring audience) I know that because Tom,
the only actor I have met in the flesh, called me
darling, well, not only me but everyone he spoke
to. Tom died no one calls me darling anymore.
We only think we know ourselves, if we really did
it would be too scary to know that inside us lurks
a monster.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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