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the new light has come from on my jalousie windows
the first thing i do in the morning is write my new poem
borne of the night
too weary to dream
but this poem keeps on stalking
always wanting to be written
write,
stare to space and let that stare linger for a while
like gathering some dust in air
or spraying the air with your shower of thoughts
speak
to yourself
like reminding yourself with words that have become too unfamiliar
because they are not spoken
words too get impatient and jealous
because of unuse
and furious too because of abuse
words too have lives of their own
and even feelings of their own
so you are telling me
be cautious be too patient and considerate
be compassionate
be strong
be happy be prayerful
i write the words again
on the positive side of things
the happier
hopeful categories
i open some shutters
slide some thoughts
inser my gaze and
spread some scrutinies
i am seeing a new light
from the jalousies
it is the soft morning light
and i really like it
i stand still and look
above this room
down to the things
below me
i see people moving
wearing the uniform
to their offices
they go
i almost forget,
it is a working day also for me.
the morning light has enticed me again,
i repeat, my friend, i still like it
here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The New Light Has Come From On My Jalousie Windows
the first thing i do in the morning is write my new poem
borne of the night
too weary to dream
but this poem keeps on stalking
always wanting to be written
write,
stare to space and let that stare linger for a while
like gathering some dust in air
or spraying the air with your shower of thoughts
speak
to yourself
like reminding yourself with words that have become too unfamiliar
because they are not spoken
words too get impatient and jealous
because of unuse
and furious too because of abuse
words too have lives of their own
and even feelings of their own
so you are telling me
be cautious be too patient and considerate
be compassionate
be strong
be happy be prayerful
i write the words again
on the positive side of things
the happier
hopeful categories
i open some shutters
slide some thoughts
inser my gaze and
spread some scrutinies
i am seeing a new light
from the jalousies
it is the soft morning light
and i really like it
i stand still and look
above this room
down to the things
below me
i see people moving
wearing the uniform
to their offices
they go
i almost forget,
it is a working day also for me.
the morning light has enticed me again,
i repeat, my friend, i still like it
here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Are Days No Poem Can Be Written
THERE ARE DAYS NO POEM CAN BE WRITTEN
There are days no poem can be written
Grief and worry frighten the poem away
Yet the poem lives hidden
For our darkest moments our loneliest fears
Too need their poetry.
Poetry is a way of saying all we need to say
It is our deepest feeling most deeply expressed
It is all we are
The whole of our being
In words.
When a poet dies
Words die
When I will die
All I am will no longer be able to write
One more poem.
How afraid I am in the night
And how dark in the early morning before I rise
But now that I am here
Writing this
A bit of hope begins in me
And I can dream that
When I walk out the door
a few minutes from now
A new day will begin.
How many days I have left
How many poems to write
I do not know.
It is not light yet
And the darkness is still here
But I will feel the morning again
This morning
Thank G-d
You have given me so many poems.
A few small words
help me believe
I truly am alive.
.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Scribbler's Stymie
Pen and paper in sight
I've got no poem to write
Staying up all night
I've got no poem to write
Although my mind is bright
I've got no poem to write
It's windy out tonight, should I go fly a kite?
I've got no poem to write
My ceiling, it is white
I've got no poem to write
It's 4: 59! Five, but not quite
I've got no poem to write
In your arms I'd feel so light
I've got no poem to write
I've had no sleep tonight
I've got no poem to write
Will you just hold me tight?
I've got no poem to write
Outside it's almost light
I've got no poem to write
It's late, off goes my light
I've got no poem to write
poem by Julia Grace
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I Know I Have A Poem Within Me
I KNOW I HAVE A POEM WITHIN ME
I know I have a poem within me
I feel myself waiting for it to be written
The morning light
Oh the morning light again
So old so tired so afraid so nowhere yet all my life
I try and try again
More words
More light
The morning is just beginning again
How many times have I written this poem?
How many times has God blessed me with the morning light?
So so much has been given me
And I am always feeling how I always lack.
Let the light shine for all of us this day, kindly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Words between words
Words between words
~
I try and say most things subtle
To slip words between words
In the hope you will read and hear
Sometimes I speak with blunt honesty
Sometimes wish I just didn’t speak
Sketching in secret characters
Telling stories built on fantasy
When a subtle look reveals
The obvious biography
Those words between words
What I write, what I speak
I understand words more than people
Words always seem easy
We all have things we wish to say
Some are said, others kept
All that is written then spoken
Are words between words
poem by Matthew Holloway
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If I Had A Poem Now
IF I HAD A POEM NOW
If I had a poem now
The light of the morning
Would be true light.
But the lines I have just written
Are not strong enough.
The light is still the light
And a new day
Is still a new day
The poem is perhaps
Somewhere else
Later.
So why do I write this,
And call it a poem now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A poem for you...
I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Can A Sick Man Write A Morning Poem?
CAN A SICK MAN WRITE A MORNING POEM?
Can a sick man write a morning poem?
Can a man short of breath write anything?
I try-
My own banal reflections on my own condition are the poem-
A small confession of where I am today –
I have the strength -
I have written these lines -
Perhaps the morning light today
Is real after all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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To A Friend Who Says That She Does Not Know How To Write A Poem Anymore
it is sad, when you think that you do not know
how to write a poem anymore
a simple poem as simple as you
what does it take for humanity to write one poem?
does it take that much from those who claim they know the way?
shall blood be shed to drive another point?
do not lose hope in the power of our ordinary words,
for as long as we quiver, poems are written
for as long as we lose the consciousness about our beings
the metaphors always come and build upon themselves their own meanings
take your time, breathe the air of poetry, and let the molecules
enter your lungs that long to see the light of the sun,
just be patient, keep on waiting, savor the silence, shower yourself
with the light of the moon, on another lonely night,
sleep soundly, and listen to the sound of your snores,
in your dreams, the poems write themselves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been
THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN
The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Ask The Morning Light
I ASK THE MORNING LIGHT
I ask the morning light,
To give me a poem-
The morning light is quiet-
The fresh cool air
Freezes my hand
As I write.
The light is so bright
So yellow so blue so green.
The poem has been given-
I am alive.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wrote A Poem I Could Not Write
I wrote a poem I could not write-
And then when I tried to write it again
Could not write it again -
Poems written and not written
Words and more words
What do they mean?
Paradoxes and games with words
What do they mean?
If there is Beauty in the language
It is one thing
But words just to hear themselves think,
Why should they mean ‘Remembrance'?
Oh Words oh Questions oh Darkness oh Life-
Let me write myself to the grave
Believing at least
That poems too even when they can be written
Have their small unhidden meanings.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sad Words
Some forty odd years ago
when I first started to write
the words that came out
were always sad words.
Repressed feelings of my own,
who can ever tell?
Then the words became lighter and happier
when love came to me.
Now they have gone full circle
and sadness is all I seem to write.
The lighter and happier words have vanished
like a candle light extinguished in the night.
The sad words have travelled full circle
coming back to me
filling my pen with sorrow and tears
the way it used to be.
Love is still with me,
so I question what I write,
wondering if that candle
will ever be lit again at night
to guide back the happier words,
banishing the sad words forever out of sight.
28 March 2010
poem by David Harris
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0008 A Love Poem in a New Old Language
Wilfrid Chin Sue says that poetry
is about ‘about’, and thank you Wilf
for that, and thanks too from us poets all
to e.e.cummings for reminding us
that lurking in the words between
the words we give most value to
like nouns and verbs and adjectives
are the words that hint,
about the presence of the subtle
so here’s a love poem about your about
because when it comes down or up
to it, it’s all about just what’s about
you – like the scent you loved to use
which brought and brings
you into an empty room
and the things you left about
which speak of you
more subtly even than your scent
and your near… ah yes, your near…that's never far from me
and your around
that made eyes light up, with life and joy and love
and your between
which I shall not speak
(about)
and the because of our true together
which I could write (about) endlessly
because of its endless, its inexplicable,
its because
which reminds me of your beyond,
which I would not write (about) in case
I wept, or failed, or failed and wept
oh so many other, being one
but most of all
I miss your
around
poem by Michael Shepherd
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If I Had A Poem This Morning
IF I HAD A POEM THIS MORNING
If I had a poem this morning
And I could write it
With all my soul,
Then I would feel somehow
That I and this day are worthwhile.
But what I have
Is for the moment
Only these words.
And these words slowly emerging on the page
Feel awkward and lonely and slow and prosaic.
Still they are my words, my thoughts
What I have now to give.
And what if we so much want to give
And what we have to give
Is of no value to anyone else
At all?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Did Not Want To Write Poems Of Sadness
I DID NOT WANT TO WRITE POEMS OF SADNESS
I did not want to write poems of sadness
But when sadness takes over one’s life?
The words are what the feelings are
They can try to be better
But ultimately
The true poem is the feelings
And now at this moment
Sadness is the poem
Sadness which waits for the morning light
And prays to God it will be truly ligh
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Need to Write
I need to write a poem, but how shall I do it,
First of all shall I write standing up, or just sit;
Until I get comfortable, I won't be able to start,
All the words will be muddled up, and then it'll fall. Apart.
Now! I got it right, I will choose the title to write about,
No good getting frustrated, or even sit or pout;
Just need to relax, and then the words will come easy,
Cause if I try to hard, Then my stomach will feel queasy.
I know what sort of holiday would people like,
And as I start the poem, the hall clock did strike;
Oh! It is now is what I can do, write about the time passing,
And so I have the heading, the thoughts on paper lasting.
It's got colour, size, And description, and the taste of art,
It's come from my mind, emotions, and also from the heart;
It has vision, and thoughts about where I want to go,
Yes! I think it'll get some to agree, to me they'll show.
So if you have a problem to write a poem or story,
Just read this poem, as a help, it's a help from me;
Don't force the idea, or rush it through at all,
Just go have a cuppa, read an article or a friend call.
Eventually it'll come, the words will flow along,
You might even end up, turning it into a song;
Writing poems will be rewarding, just give a go,
And you might enjoy it, they may end up in a show.
poem by Margaret Haig
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How Can You Be Lonely?
hear the sounds of footsteps
the ants are moving
pulling their catch
for the day
your cornflake
is tasty,
a spill of milk on
the floor
a lizard comes
down
to drink what
you wasted
a dragonfly
is lost and whirls
around the
flourescent bulb.
turn it off
it is 6 o'clock
there is no
more shadow
there are rays
of light
wanting to
enter the shutters
and the blinds
open them
turn off the light
welcome
this new morning
there is no more
reason to be
lonely
write it. I am
reborn.
write it. I am
a child of God.
I am a happy
child of God.
write it. I am
ready. I am going.
now. Go, go. go.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who Can Write A Poem
WHO CAN WRITE A POEM
Who can write a poem
In the early morning
Before there is light?
Who can write a poem
Before the day has begun
A Poem is light
And night is not enough for it.
But where is the light
When the day has not yet
Begun?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All Through The Night I Longed For A Poem
ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT I LONGED FOR A POEM
All through the night I longed for a poem
I could not write-
I waited to hear it inside
But I could not write it-
I needed a poem so much
And it did not come-
In the morning I sat down
And began to write-
The words came-
I felt I meant something again
As I write this now
Who I am returns to me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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