Creativity Of The Mind
one thing with the mind is that
it never stops thinking
and this is something that i am really afraid of sometimes
this creativity that never rests
and so i dabble in poetry
and even short stories
i murmur to myself and muster some other ideas that always creep
like some grasses in my backyard
or dusts coming from nowhere landing on some
new furniture or stains that you wonder
where do all these come from?
i wonder. I wander. I move. My ideas move me
like
sometimes, i feel, so robotic, like what Robert sometimes feel
when he write a line or two and call it poetry.
something creeps in my heart and i am filled with desire.
i am afraid, i go out of bounds, and then you discover
dirt and shattered glasses
or i may not know it
you discover blood dripping from my hands
and to my surprise
i feel nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Big Ideas, Don't Get Any (Nude)
Don't get any big ideas
They're not gonna happen
You paint your house white and feel the noise
But there'll be something missing
And now that you found it, it's gone
Now that you feel it, you don't
I'm not afraid
She stands stark naked and she beckons you to bed
Don't go you'll only want to come back again
So don't get any big ideas
They're not gonna happen
You'll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking
And now that you found it, it's gone
And now that you feel it, you don't
I'm not afraid
Alternate lyrics for the first line of the second verse:
she kisses you with tongue and pulls you to the bed
don't go you'll only want to come back again
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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 A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Silence Of Edgar's Mind
Edgar had an evil approach
to his writing and to his
poetry that he composed
inside his mind and on
the paper that he wrote
upon.
His characters inside
his stories and poetry
had a shattered affect
that seem to have consumed
his mind as he wrote inside
the silence of his mind.
The silence of Edgar's
mind, gave him the evil
and the turmoilless thoughts
that shaped his short stories
and poetry into what it became
today.
But when i read his
poetry i can feel
his tortured soul
having so-much contorl
over him, that him
begins to battle
with his chastisng
emotions and his soul
That was forever making
him write the poetry
and the shoet stories
that he was chosen to
write until the end of
his life that he lived,
As he found himself
so desparately etched
with the loneliness
of being who he was as
a person.
As i got inside the
silence of Edgar Allan
Poe's mind i found a
constant struggle of
selfless-convictions
coming undone before me
as i read his work out loud.
poem by Erie Morganmaples
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is All In One!
Passion for poetry is insatiable!
Poetry gives pleasure nothing can!
Poetry is many subjects under one roof!
Poetry never bores to write and read ever!
Poetry is a compression of many ideas in a nut shell!
Poetry displays power of pen to capture men ever!
Poetry captures as photo castles built in air!
Poetry is spontaneous over flow of ides!
Poetry flows free if extemporary!
Poetry is prolific words sure!
Poetry is a thing of joy!
Poetry is beauty!
Poetry is witty!
Poetry cheers!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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 A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Mumbling This Is Rambling
do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.
this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,
or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.
someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.
or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.
this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face. That is the best way to speak.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Silent Conversation With Myself
do not care to read me carefully, just skim over
some words that may call your preferential attention.
do not mind the smaller ideas, or the images that
you find hard to imagine. They may not be images
after all but just blotches of my stains, the negligence
of my trembling fingers, the lapses of my brains,
the slip of my tongues, the cliches of humanity,
seeking meaning in the meaninglessness of words.
this is mumbling, this is plain rambling
do not ever mind what i am writing. this is not about you.
or myself, or the society that like sheep simply graze on the grass
not knowing that on the next step is the landmine that kills them,
or why look for the meaning of loneliness in words or lines or poetry.
are you going home tonight? on a train. sit there. look over the window.
see the line of trees, do they shout at you? No.
and move your eyes, as though you are scrolling for names on the
cell phone, like roving camera, you do not have to look that far on the
20th person sitting across the other side.
someone is sitting next to you. listen to his silence.
feel the vibrations of all his problems. try to unmask the cover of his face.
are there words covering his face? none.
or if words cover his face and body, try reading them all silently.
most of the truths are not said. Not even written. You always see them
next to you. Be it on the train, the bus or the plane. Or simply when you
walk along the cemented paths of the park. Here comes another
lost soul. Talk to him. Do not write poetry.
this is mumbling this is plain rumbling. Do not speak poetry.
write them and let them cover your face.
That is the best way to speak.
This is what is life is all about.
Speechless. Alone always.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like Poetry in Motion
Like poetry in motion,
You glide through my thoughts-
Numb my body-
Ripple my mind-
Engross my heart-
Leaving footprints on my soul
Like poetry in motion
You have me guessing the next line
The next verse
The next stanza of this unity
Rippling my mind
Enthralling my heart
Leaving footprints on my soul
Like poetry in motion…
You move me.
Take me to heights…
Speak to me…
Show me what it is you want me to see
All the solace and tribulations
All that’s unjust and righteous
Like poetry in motion…
You move me.
A smile that never leaves me you’re is one I cherish
As words to a poet
Notes to a musician
Paint to a painter
Like poetry in motion…
Move me.
poem by Adam Rubenstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'll Feel For You
If you're afraid to cry
Though you could use it once in awhile
Nothing will cloud your eyes
You've been through one of those times
When nothing's real or getting through
And it seems like you've forgotten how to feel
Call me
I'll Feel
For you
And some days you'll feel for me too
If you're afraid to smile
Though you could use it just to survive
There's nowhere you want to drive
And you're only staying alive
'Cause it's the thing to do
And it seems your bell's forgotten how to ring
Call me
I'll Feel
For you
And some days you'll feel for me too
If you're afraid to cry
Though you could use it just to survive
There's nowhere you want to drive
And you're only staying alive
'Cause it's the thing to do
And it seems your mouth's forgotten how to sing
Call me
Yeah
Call me
Call me
I'll Feel
For you
And some days you'll feel for me too
song performed by by Semisonic from Great Divide
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Embracing Poetry!
What kind of poetry does engage all complete?
Only love between man and woman in romance?
Only beauty of Nature in all its splendour forever?
Only philosophic ideas enriched in poems ever?
Only journalism, philosophy and poem altogether?
Only spiritual ideas of God or Universe in a new way?
So many questions crop up every day to find one
Poetry that will absorb all forever and enrich mind!
Have anyone discovered such poetry so far...?
Divinity present in Nature kindling romance of
Love of high state of mind perhaps may do so ever!
Comprising of all ingredients I try often to create
Poetry of an irresistible kind for all to consume ever!
Journalism, philosophy and poem in one I feel better!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Change Of Time!
A change of time changes everything in life!
Glorious poetry turned into prose for use earlier;
Stories, novels and articles ruled prominent;
With the coming of computer poetry resurrected!
Now everybody enjoys indulging in poetry for fun;
Articles, stories and novels are superseded by poetry!
Many poetry websites entertain new poets daily;
Many enjoy poetry reading and writing at anytime!
Poetry has become cheap product for all to use;
Nobody thought that such a thing could happen!
Nobody buys poetry books but novels and magazines;
Is poetry a use and throw material only in market now?
The things that cannot be expressed in stories, novels
Are done in poetry to satisfy heart, thought and spirit!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Poetry On The Chin
You gouged my mind's eye,
Tantalised all inner thought,
Shocked from unknown angles;
Sold me, told me cold,
Unfolded, moulded;
Shouldered any harbouring
Of empty morals.
You spun me round; undressed -
Pestered me with background riddle -
Piffle came to gleaning meaning.
And you stripped out prejudice - for none
Must exist in poetry,
Lest you close up an open mind
And f**k up as reader;
Lest your heart is not a bleeder -
It has to be - let it flush out
Upon your sleeve.
You lay apart my thinking brain
And let in the literary pickings of a
Great poetic phallus.
Yes, poetry can be callous.
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Spirit
The sun and moon every day
Day and night mark my play
See the future in the past
Try to change or make it last
Go for broke dont regret
Get your hands dirty get you feet wet
Take your place use me well
Im in your hands so make me tell
A broken dream seems unkind
But I can help for I am time
I can heal you
Its not a matter of slight
Only of sound
Let me... feel for you
Feel for yourself
The love all around
I can... lead you
Is you soul afraid
Of what youve made
Do you know the way
The spirit goes
All around on the wind
Distant whispers of what I bring
In the day in the night
Locked in the words of lovers delight
If Im lost or mislaid
Just keep looking dont be afraid
In the eye on the mind
Im everything and yours to find
Im not far just discover
Im in you for I am love
I can heal you
Its not a matter of slight
Only of sound
Let me... feel for you
Feel for yourself
The love all around
I can... lead you
Is you soul afraid
Of what youve made
Do you know the way
The spirit goes
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do I Write
People often ask me why do I write,
unfortunately I have no answer.
I started when I was eighteen
when my then girlfriend
said we were through.
I said to myself
if the Beatles can do it why not try it.
I was lonely with nothing else better to do
and it all progressed from there.
The more I wrote the better I got
and now I don’t even think about it
as the ideas just come to me
and I write them down quickly before they pass.
When I started, my parents said
it was just a passing phase,
but here almost half a century has gone by
and that seems like some long passing phase.
Of course as I progressed, I experimented
with poetry, short stories and novels,
now my back library seems endless
and still I write more and more
jumping from one subject to another.
If I knew why I do it,
I’d bottle it and sell it
probably making a fortune on the way.
Sadly, the answer eludes me,
all I know is, I just sit with pen in hand
and the words come automatically
with line following line until I am through
no matter what facet of writing I am working in.
I never question myself about it,
but just let it happen and feel happy that it does.
Maybe sometime in the future
some scholar will give an answer to why I do it.
24 April 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writer's block
Have you ever felt
the need to write
Tho’ your fingers are leaden
And your brain won’t go
Have you ever concentrated
with all your might
When your mind feels deadened
And your creativity won’t flow
Have you ever felt
You’ve got no more to say
No more ideas
Buried deep in your mind
Well that’s the way I feel
And I know it’s not right
But I just can’t think of a single thing
….To write about tonight
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dont Write Poetry!
i dont write poetry...
i sweat poetry, i drink poetry,
i breathe poetry, i make love to poetry,
i fight poetry, i eat poetry,
i bleed poetry, i crap poetry...
too often i betray poetry,
sometimes i dropp poetry.
once i tripped over poetry,
got angry and kicked poetry.
i rocked poetry on a sleepless night,
i buried poetry on the hill...
i lived poetry, for i am poetry...
no, i dont write poetry,
but poetry writes me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ask
I ask you for nothing but still you give more
More than I ask for and for that I adore
The way that your lips move and I smile in awe
The way that your hands move and discover my flaws
I ask you for nothing and you still hold me high
High of opinion, these feelings won't lie
Not like he did when he left me behind
Nor are they fake like those who play kind
I ask you for nothing but still feel confused
Why do you stay where there's nothing to use?
No wants or demands, no favours or plea
Just a confused little girl so similar to me
So maybe I ask this one little thing
Why do you stay? When there's no prize to win
Just a heart and a mind that warms to you
And hopes for dreams that one day may come true
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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Autopsy Song
Open wide look inside
Open wide look inside
At my autopsy
I feel like a woman
I feel like I care
I feel like I shouldn't
I feel like a child of despair
I feel like it's over
I feel like it's coming after me
I feel like it's closer
I feel like this is all I'll ever be
I feel like a failure
I feel like a hungry parasite
I feel like a razor
I feel like a prayer lost in flight
I feel like I'm hopeless
I'm afraid I'm a slave I'm weak and average
I'm afraid I'm a slave I'm weak and average
I feel like a hammer
I feel like a nail
I feel like I'm guilty
I feel like the wrist that is impaled
I feel like a butcher
I feel like I'm bein' deceived
I feel like a beautiful loser
I feel like all you sheep are laughing at ME!!
OPEN WIDE LOOK INSIDE
AT MY AUTOPSY
(look inside look inside)
AT MY AUTOPSY
I feel like a complete waste of time
I feel like I'm transparent
I feel like I can't escape my mind.
song performed by by Otep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm trying to be open, but the past keep creeping in
i'm only human,
don't get mad,
i don't feel normal,
but i'm doing the best i can,
what you want is this perfect girl,
i don't think i will ever be her,
i'm a girl who numb her feeling,
just so i won't have to feel the pain,
the problem is not really you,
nor is it me,
i was delt a bad hand,
in this thing we call life,
i want to be what you see in me,
it just hard,
when my feelings over take my mind,
i freeze up,
but it's hiding behind my smile,
i don't let you see,
becuz i'm afraid that if i do,
you won't look at me,
the way you have been,
that look you get in your eyes,
is what makes me want to be a better person,
you see, what i'm too blind to see,
and yet, i'm worried that you might judge,
judge me for a past, i had no control over,
it makes me sick to think,
a grown guy can do that to a child,
turn them into their sex puppet,
it makes me sick just thinking about it,
but in my eyes i'm looking at you,
as if you are my abuser,
you are nothing like him,
and yet i'm so afraid to let you in,
let you get close,
i tell myself things that are not true,
just so i have a way out,
a way out of feeling the thing from the past,
but no matter what,
i'm pulled back into your charm,
who can resist?
i love your personality,
but it's what triggering my past memories,
i feel like i'm not normal,
becuz i'm afraid of anything sexual,
it shouldn't have to be this way,
but sadly it is,
i guess all i can say is,
i'm only human,
i don't always have to be perfect,
i can only be me,
it wasn't my fault,
what happened in my past,
all i can do is move on and learn.
poem by Mona Martinez
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