As I work with my words as medium
I want to be profound
Deep, deeper than what i
Can possible swim
But I have seen
The limitations
Of words as medium
Of my thoughts
How can I put the
Color red
Of an apple
In words
Or the scent
Of lavender
In syllables
Here you are
Reading me
And I do not want
To disappoint
You, my reader
I want to create
A world of sensations
For such is the
World of poetry
I have long wanted
You to feel
My sadness in
Letters
My loneliness
In a single
Letter
This
i
Or...... ............................... me...................................
I want you to listen
To me
In the hush of the wind
In syllables
I want you to
Read my joys
In my phrases
Sometimes
I have given
You sentences
stanzas
I want you to
Be at home
With my words
But these are
Just words
And I must
Have failed
In bringing
Back to life
Your senses
Hopelessly
They have long
been dead
words, words, words,
And
Even this whole
Poem
Is not enough
Let me try
Again
On some
Coming
Illustrations
Birds falling
Their wings clipped
Leaves blown
Detached from
Their stems
Trees threatened
About the news
Of the coming storms
Oh I am so sorry
Your senses are sleeping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Untitled 15
there is a mountain of words
an ocean of words
a continent of words
there is a rain of words
a flood of words
a river of words and true to their being words
they also disintegrate as syllables
on the other hand some form the clauses
conditions and terms
some make sentences and paragraphs
a world of words full of words
i am not a word and i am buried in a mountain of words
a sea of words i drown
a continent of words i am condemned to walk all the days of my life
too may words my ears do not listen anymore.
my eyes do not like to read anymore.
i like something not having to do with words.
what about a touch? what about a picture?
what about a kiss?
why don't people just make love without saying a word?
let us start touching the hearts of people
to avoid this war of words that lead us to our own perdition.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
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Say The Words
Every light shines on you tonight
Making a fool out of me
Why wont this love leave me alone
All of the people in this smoky room
Crowded with faces I know
I feel them watching me watch you
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Your eyes are deeper
They are worthy of many words
But none I can conjure up will do for you
I shouldnt see you
cause I know my own motivation
Its taking too long for this love
To leave me alone
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Bridge
Oh love you worry me
When you say youll wait forever
I have another life
We just cannot be together
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words say them for me
I need to hear you say its over
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem Speaking 4 U
how is poem..?
not Thing is thear...
ALL ARE WORDS
SOME WORDS NICE
SOME WORDS SPICE
SOME WORDS NOTHING
SOME WORDS LOVELY
SOME WORDS BEAUTYFUL
SOME WORDS HUNGRY
SOME WORDS ANGRY
THATS ALL...
WRITE IT
LOVE IT...
THIS IS FOR OTHERS
U ARE READ YOURS...
THATS ALL
TAKE A LITTLE SMILE
LIFE IS THIS..
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A Word
If I make a word
it is first sculpted from letters
on the page
a canvass across which
letters skate
from margin to margin transforming
into meanings and sentences
which give us art, science, poetry
and civilization.
This is created from an arbitrary entity,
the scratchings we call letters
which in turn form yet another
mysterious entity we call the alphabet.
What manner of miracle is this?
All of civilization is born from
these scribbly scratchings?
So if each letter is an imaginary entity,
an arbitrary symbol we made up
which has no meaning by itself
and lives inside another arbitrary entity
we call the alphabet
we may properly ask
what is going on here?
Meaning here is deriving from an arbitrary nothingness
arbitrarily created from arbitrary letters
by virtue of common agreement around
what words will mean?
Ponder this:
we too, as individuals are letter unique
and, in our variety, form a kind of human alphabet.
What we all mean and can mean to each other
therefore depends upon the words we form
in our families and communities; our human alphabets.
So, one word letters such as 'I' are too self-regarding
and are narcissistic anomalies
not true words at all.
Better words have more syllables than that
and have enabled us to form social sentences
more complex
which we can use for good or ill
peace or war, love or hate.
So watch your words and sentences
don't swing them recklessly in a crowded room
you'll put somebody's mind out
or create genius.
Big responsibility this
especially for us poets.
So in the end
in mass society
you and I are a single letter
but combined create all there is.
You can take that
as the first
and last
Word
And by the way
arbitrary letters
are electrons at the sub-atomic level
and combine to make molecules
and the greatest meaning of all
All of the Universe.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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I Like To Think That All These Are But A Game Of Words
that is the impression from the beginning
when i started to scribble
word, and more words, i assured her that they do not
mean anything at all just
words, and words and more words
that even a sunflower wilting and spreading all the seed on her feet
are nothing too but words and more words
nothing to grow nothing to expect like a sprouting something
thus my loneliness, i again assure here, is nothing but a word
my way of taking solitude on the other side to save myself
is another word, and she of course, did not believe me saying
there is more to these words, there is fire in them and i see you burning
there is the sun inside them and the letters glow and the
there is smoke rising from the heads of vowels
from the nonspeaking consonants
i keep hiding the flowers
i bury those that are alive in the silence of my pretensions
until one day she grips me like she is a knife wanting to stab me
and then she stabbed me right in my throat and there i bleed
words, words, and more words coming from the slit
bloody words, and she was convinced, until death, ... and then i vanish.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Caterpillars
the caterpillars all climb
line per line to claim
the topmost leaf
of the tree
and when they arrive there
they find out
that there is nothing after all
to eat and be merry
like a race for votes in poetry
there is nothing there
just speak your mind
and think of all the metaphors
that jibe with your sadness
or your joys
and your happiness and bliss
if you have them
show them
tell them that all your syllables
know how to dance
and that all your words know how
to sing
no matter where you are
whatever the limitations be
show the color of your lines
let them smell the scent of your stanzas
you may even tell a story
they too need something to appease them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lip Service
Words inspire and words destroy
Words conspire and words annoy
Words spread freedom and words detain
Words believe them in sound refrain
Words of passion in words misleading
Words without action are words without meaning
poem by P.R. Prosper
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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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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Love in Words
Naive little things, words,
yet so effective when strung together
breathing romance
and fading loneliness
between the lines
with words in pastel strokes
joined in just the right way.
A writer's thoughts
whether fact or fiction
become another's hopes,
and the words find their way
to a reader's heart as surely
as petals dropped in a forest
mark the way home again.
I love you's bloom, only to fade
by truths revealed in even more words.
Can we fall in love through poetry?
I believe we can,
through the pure naivete of words.
i teach my child by G. Abad
I.
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
They are hardest to learn.
Words like home,
Or friend, or to forgive.
These words are relations.
They are difficult to bear;
Their fruits are unseen.
Or words that promise
Or dream.
Words like honor, or certainty,
Or cheer.
Rarest of sound,
Their roots run deep;
These are words that aspire,
They cast no shade.
These are not words
To speak.
These are the words
Of which we consist,
Indefinite,
Without other ground.
II.
My child
Is without syllables
To utter him,
Captive yet to his origin
In silence.
By every word
To rule his space,
He is released;
He is shaped by his speech.
Every act, too,
Is first without words.
There's no rehearsal
To adjust your deed
From direction of its words.
The words are given,
But there's no script.
Their play is hidden,
We are their stage.
These are the words
That offer to our care
Both sky and earth,
These same words
That may elude our acts.
If we speak them
But cannot meet their sound,
They strand us still
In our void,
Blank like the child
With the uphill silence
Of his words' climb.
And so,
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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238
i teach my child by G. Abad
I.
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
They are hardest to learn.
Words like home,
Or friend, or to forgive.
These words are relations.
They are difficult to bear;
Their fruits are unseen.
Or words that promise
Or dream.
Words like honor, or certainty,
Or cheer.
Rarest of sound,
Their roots run deep;
These are words that aspire,
They cast no shade.
These are not words
To speak.
These are the words
Of which we consist,
Indefinite,
Without other ground.
II.
My child
Is without syllables
To utter him,
Captive yet to his origin
In silence.
By every word
To rule his space,
He is released;
He is shaped by his speech.
Every act, too,
Is first without words.
There's no rehearsal
To adjust your deed
From direction of its words.
The words are given,
But there's no script.
Their play is hidden,
We are their stage.
These are the words
That offer to our care
Both sky and earth,
These same words
That may elude our acts.
If we speak them
But cannot meet their sound,
They strand us still
In our void,
Blank like the child
With the uphill silence
Of his words' climb.
And so,
I teach my child
To survive.
I begin with our words,
The simple words first
And last.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Piece of Heaven for Me
I've read your words almost everyday
Sometimes they take my breath away
Sometimes they ignite deep within
Sometimes they make my head spin
Sometimes a little tearing din
Sometimes between the lines I fill-in
So many emotions long repressed
and sensations longing to acquiesce
I know now that I can survive
For your words make me know I'm alive
Your gift you give is straight from your heart
and gratitude to you is off the charts
No words adequate to express to thee
Always coming back for more you see
It's a piece of heaven for me
(8 Aug 2007)
poem by by unknown author
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Words
words comfort me
like fairies in my forest
at night
when everything is dark
and cold
and lonely
words are like fireflies
on the trees
perhaps
on this therapy
i have become a slave
to words
everyday they command
that i write them
forms of worship
terms of endearment
and for such love
and affection
i have become a word
myself
man of letters
sounding like
syllables
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Things You Say
Words
Said in a careless huff as you walked away
Hurt
Words
Said in a whispered excited voice
Caused electricity in me
Words
Said in a caring loving way
Were a balm for the wound in me
Words
Said in an angry menacing way
Felt like daggers thrown at me
Words
Said like sugary sweet morning due
Caused my knees to go weak
Words
Words, Words, Words..
Your words have so much power over me
Words
Said like a magic spell
Have enchanted me
Words
You throw around those words so carelessly
Do you know
Words
How they have been affecting and inflicting me..
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Unspoken Words
Words will never convey my thoughts
What I so want to say to her
It often leaves me overwrought
My mind becomes a hopeless blur.
Her comely grace and pleasing eyes
Her sweet amicability
Leaves me goggle-eyed and tongue-tied
when I look upon her beauty.
At home I think up words to say
Articulating syllables
Spoken in a well mannered way
But deem them unacceptable.
The hardest thing for me to do
Is utter three words, “I love you.”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Mood
I'll simply be out shopping,
or just going for a run,
when words and phrases hit me,
and a poem has begun.
Sentences and lots of words,
go running through my mind,
and i know if i dont write them down,
my thoughts leave me behind.
So quick hand me some paper!
Just please give me that pen!
If i do not write this down soon,
the words will go again.
poem by Holly Smith
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Modern Day Poet
I am the modern day poet you know
that must make words that easily flow.
For to just present words that ramble on
is to yield forth words that soon are gone.
They're gone from the listener and reader too,
who cannot reason or cannot view
how the words just seem to sit on a page
allowed to sit and yellow with age.
Words must be caressed and also thrive
to take on rhythms which come alive,
alive in the memory that through the ear
has taken it in and holds it dear.
And so in each poem I have my say.
And so in each poem my words do sway
back and forth like a front porch swing
giving my poem a magical ring.
I never allow dullness to come into play
for then my poem will be thrown away
into the piles of poems never read
because they're too hard to keep in the head.
So over and over it's become my style
to enchant the reader for a little while,
making them remember the lilting rhyme
that got into my head one word at a time.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Why Poets?
When a poem is read
A reader's home is entered
Where dwells a kindred spirit
You laugh…you cry
You groan and you sigh
You feel and taste and hear it
We bring tears to eyes
Smiles to lips…
Memories to mind
We make you think
With pen and ink
And open minds once blind
That music is a source of joy
Of that, of course there is
No doubt
But words and phrases
Ink on pages, of that
We'd ne'er do without
It's a gift given to very few
In truth, this game
of words and phrases
Of measurable worth?
Of real value none?
Of real time and of real places?
So why the need for you and me?
What place have we…Poets,
In grand schemes, of things and matters?
…It's because….
We give wings to words
That soar like birds
And oftimes leave your heart
…in tatters…
poem by David Whalen
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