Because One Chooses Optimism

despite
the storms that
diminished
the fixed numbers
of trees annihilated
and stars frozen
to the dilated eye
of the sun
one keeps faith
about the greatness
of humanity
and still keeps
writing
poetry

poem by Ric S. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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It Is A Habit

writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry

and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.

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Poetry The Beacon!

Beacon of literature is ever poetry only!
Greatness of literature lies in quality ideas;
Richness of language depends on poetry;
Worthiness of matter in poetry only is best!

Writing needs creative mind whatever thing is!
Novels, Short stories, Prose and Poetry are they
That enhance the richness of literature ever;
That too writing poetry makes one great sure!

Having chosen the form of poetry to write itself
Is not an easy matter as it needs skill and time
To write what one feels, thinks and conceives
In heart, mind and soul, otherwise no good at all!

Other forms of literature needs concentrated work
But poetry needs natural ability to express free all!

poem by Ramesh T AReport problemRelated quotes
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Sonnet: What the Stars Foretell?

Look at the stars, a handiwork of God!
Who knows the mystery of their twinkling light?
Like eyes of God, they shimmer light so odd,
In countless numbers, studding sky of night.

What is their role in human destiny?
What is the need for stars at all, I ask?
They seem to depict faith and harmony,
Whose secrets to unravel- is man’ task.

What beauteous objects fixed light-years away!
Yet, God intended stars for some purpose;
But man can ne’er find it out any day;
God’s glory, perhaps they depict to us.

When stars can look mysterious to man’s eyes,
How much more God must be- who never dies!

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A Revolution Poetry Is....!

Are you writing words of rhythm according to thoughts?
Or are you coining words of thoughts according to rhythm?
Or are you writing poetry both working at the same time?
Asking so, if they ask me how to write poetry, what shall I say?

Poetry writing is natural, spontaneous expression from heart!
How can this be taught to anyone to write poetry ever at all?
Poetry is a spontaneous flow of words direct from heart ever!

I wonder many a time how am I writing poetry at all ever!
But this is happening to my great surprise since longtime!

Due to engagements ever poetry only I am able to write
Though my aim in the beginning was writing stories.....,
Novels, short stories and nonfiction articles of criticism!

Poetry books too I have completed writing so since long
But what a pity there is no reception for poetry books...!

poem by Ramesh T AReport problemRelated quotes
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I Can Write Poetry All Day Long

I CAN WRITE POETRY ALL DAY LONG

I can write Poetry all day long
But what will it give me?
There is just so much others will listen to
If anything?

And what is the value of writing words to myself for myself
Even if I love them
And believe they are real poetry,
And know in my soul
That their music is real?

I can write Poetry all day long
Or think I am writing poetry
When I am not-

Am I writing poetry now?
I feel I am-
Within me there is the song and the sound
There is the music of poetry
But is it real
Or only my self- deception?

Can I write poetry all day long?
Can I write poetry at all?

I am writing poetry now
Or so I tell myself-
But as I write this
The music within
Is already fading
And I hear in myself
The silence of my own lonely sound.

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Poetry

Poetry.......
Poetry defines me

Poetry.......
A place where you be you and I'll be me.

Poetry.......
We are best friends for eternity.

My Poetry.......
Is the daughter of my emotion,
There I've said it, no need to interpret the connection.

Poetry.......
Where my pen and paper are sealed with a kiss,
So easy to write for my mind is a bliss.

Poetry.......
Poetry has multiple meanings,
An indescribable feeling when I realize others understand them.

My Poetry.......
It just comes natural to me.

My Poetry.......
Is out there, , , , , away from exile,
And style of writing is very versatile.

Poetry.......Poetry.......
P oetry.......
It speaks out to me.

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The Time Of Poetry Has Come

THE TIME OF POETRY HAS COME

The time of Poetry has come
I feel it within myself
Somehow waiting to be said
Worlds are hidden
And feel ready to come into being-

The time of Poetry is here
And I am writing now easily
Yet somehow within the poetry
And beyond it
Is something that needs to be said
Which my poetry now cannot say-

The Poetry the real Poetry
May be within me
And yet beyond myself
So that what I am writing now
Is not it,
But only an excuse for mentioning that
It can never really be mine.

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Just Another One Of Those Poem Thingies...

Well as you can tell,
This is just another one of those poem thingies.

But I ask you,
'What is poetry? I mean,
Do people just write words in wierd orders.'

Well, poetry is an expression,
An opinion, well I guess it could be,
Anything,
From a very 'sensitive' piece of writing
To an essay that you wrote three years ago.

The definition that you find in a dictionary
Has nothing to do with poetry.
It is just a summary,
No an assumsion of what those fools writing the dictionaries
Think it is.

Poetry is whatever you want it to be.
So next time some person who thinks that they're too cool,
And that your so stupid because you like poetry,
Weather it's writing it or just reading it,
Tell them that they write it too,
Weather or not they consider it to be poetry,
It's their opinion and anything,
Can be poetry.

I have a love for poetry,
That can not be described.
I know,
That sounds obsesive.
But I really do love poetry.
I feel like I can say anything and,
It doesn't have to be serious,
I mean it can,
But it is not required.
Nothing is required of you when you write poetry.

It is relaxing,
A chance to step aside from life,
Even if it's just for a few minutes.
I do it for my own enjoyment an relaxation.
Why do you?

poem by Maddy MacleodReport problemRelated quotes
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Recap:

Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.

Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.

Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Demographics had established,
The success and conditions...
Of a targeted marketing.
To direct effective hype,
Among those selected to be chosen.

Those days have faded away,
From the land of steady habits.
And drift as nomads depleted of funds,
Are those unable to repay for a credited feasting done.

And elimination of debits wished,
Increase and do not leave.
So those rush away in the kicking up of dust...
With tears from their eyes drippimg as they weep.

Recap:
Those enforced to be meek and weak,
Are solicited to exhaust their kept treasures.
In the hopes of prolonging,
The ones addicted to feeding themselves selfishly.

Recap:
Conditions for optimistic change gone ignored has past.
This can not be restored to those celebrating,
In the hopes to inflict upon others their will.
Closed are those doors.

Recap:
The ones found designing deceitful traps,
Have become entrapped.
Their ways have not a dividend saved...
For them to expect a profit that is returned.

Recap:
Within their own borders...
They become crazed!

Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.

Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.

Diminished to limits.
Recap:
But a tired retreading,
Just wont allow that.

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A Man Became Addicted To Poetry

A MAN BECAME ADDICTED TO POETRY

A man became addicted to poetry-
Wherever he went he read or wrote a few lines-
Poetry became much of what he did-
Poetry and poetry and poetry-
As if that alone could give meaning and pleasure to his life.

A man became addicted to poetry
And so lost at times
What true poetry is –

Now he writes without knowing
Whether he is truly writing
Or merely using the ‘idea and world of poetry’
For his own peace of mind.

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Victor Hugo

There is no such thing as a little country. The greatness of a people is no more determined by their numbers than the greatness of a man is by his height.

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Sonnet: On Greatness

Greatness is not a thing, much like an art;
Some man turns great if on it he stumbles;
His greatness ceases, if he thinks, he's great;
Great is he truly who tho' great, humbles.

Greatness is not true greatness, self-proclaimed;
Greatness is not what world showers on us;
Greatness is neither got by being claimed.
Greatness is not achieved by making fuss.

Greatness could come if world decides to give;
Greatness will stay if God blesses our work;
Such greatness, God-destined comes while men live;
Greatness can grow even without much luck.

Greatness doesn't come to everyone on earth;
Some men are made great; some are great by birth.

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There Are Poets Whose Greatness

THERE ARE POETS WHOSE GREATNESS

There are poets whose Greatness
Makes my poetry seem
As if it is not Poetry at all.

What am I to do
If I am not really one
Of the great ones?
But one who loves far more
the work of others
Than his own?

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Battle Lines

We got more poetry than we bargained for:
Poetry as per the programme;
Poetry under the Plane trees;
Poetry conjuring other places,
Other times,
Other insights
Through other eyes.

Yes, all that and more
As the soft, stone façade
Glowed the warm jaune-crème
Of a quiet understanding
Borne of generations of learning,
And, en face,
Upstart acres of glass
Glowered back their pretensions
With an assurance
Only the arrogance of youth may afford.

Between these battle lines,
Oblivious to their meagre histories and vanities,
Nature was quietly busy
Writing her elegant, eternal poetry
Upon the wind
In fresh, green symphony,
Strolling and stroking its way
Through the forest on my forearms,
Stealing me away from listening,
To writing:
Recording the history of the briefest of moments
Perhaps no-one else noticed.

More than I bargained for too.

Stephanos, thank you.

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An act of poetry

Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry

A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art

Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation

Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:

The pen be our salvation.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010


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Poetic Greatness

POETIC GREATNESS..
No one can know the potential, of a life that is committed to win; With courage - the challenge it faces, To achieve great success in the end..
So, explore the Poetic Dimension of Greatness, and believe that the world CAN be won; By a mind that is fully committed, KNOWING the task can be done..
Your world has no place for the skeptic, No room for the DOUBTER to stand; To weaken your firm resolution That you CAN EXCEL in this land...
We must have VISION TO SEE our potential, And FAITH TO BEPoetıc GreatnessIEVE that we can; Then COURAGE TO ACT with conviction, To become what GOD MEANT us to be..

Your voice alone possess the strength and the courage to conquer WHATEVER you choose; It's the person WHO NEVER GETS STARTED, That is destined FOREVER to lose..
Ron Poetry

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Thousands of eyes

Poetry or prose is a writing.
In prose contents get focus
And in poetry, taste of words.
Prose sounding poetry is sweeter.

We see thousands of stars at night
And only one sun in a day - prose.
The night has thousands of eyes
And the day, only one in sky. - poetry
01.08.2012

poem by Rm. Shanmugam ChettiarReport problemRelated quotes
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Poets and Poetry

Poets love writing poetry Poetry releases there feelings there are all kinds of poetry, but poetry is in all life nothing can change that. Poets and Poetry is always around us this poetry is about poetry so you decide if you want poetry in your life.

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The Poetry At Times Seems

THE POETRY AT TIMES SEEMS

The Poetry at times seems
Like the last stand-
The little bit of what is left in me
Of all I dreamed in Writing.

The Poetry seems a means of Surviving
When all other ways of writing
Have been lost-
So much has been done
And not been done.

By these little words
I am holding on-
I do not know how much longer,
I will be able to.

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John Buchan

The task of leadership is not to put greatness into humanity, but to elicit it, for the greatness is already there.

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