Related quotes: let me tell you it...

Do You Really Find It Hard To Write A Poem?

let me tell you
it is not hard to write the poems in your mind

they are already there in the first place
inside your heart
always wanting to be written

all you need is just your way of waking your fingers in deep sleep
let them be
let them write the words
at the tip of your fingers
let the words speak for themselves
do not intervene
let them be
let the emotions dance like the wind
let the thoughts trickle like the rain
let them be
follow the river as it winds along the banks of your feelings
then watch
how all the waters of your self fall like

a water fall.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Do Not Be Afraid To Write The Worst Lines

poems are feelings,
logic need not be there
but could be just instinct
words flowing like a river
following nothing but that
which takes the curves
of least resistance

enjoy over there the
view of the naked bathers
those that dive and
swim beneath the waters
only to rise and show
the beauty both outside
and within

look at the trees lining
on the banks of desire
up there the clouds have
tongues licking the
shapely bodies of the skies

we reach the edge and
we fall freely to the lowest
level of our journey
soon we will write about
the impact of the fall
the pains and the lowest
ebbs of our lives

do not be afraid to write
the worst lines for they
speak the truth of what
happened to each of us
faithful to our craft and
consistent to our conscripts

we dance we dream we die

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sometimes I Wonder

at this moment, when i begin to write again
another set of poems

(i stop for a while, away from official matters
this business of the mind thinking
clearly and logically, setting aside premises
and dogmas and
theorems, not wanting any proof of my sanity
and reasonableness

i relax a bit, on some matters of the heart
the emotions all colored wildly like a dream
a wet dream, to be specific....

sometimes i ask, if i can still write about
libido, the wanton directionless cravings of the thighs
and the caprices of the fingers...

i get lost with reason and i become as firm as an
iron rod, shunning feelings, oh, how do i like to be a rock?

it is sad to be numb. I detest when this happens
as a matter of everyday business, and i become tense

if at all, i have ceased to be human, or if i have changed
myself suddenly to be nothing but a cabinet or a desk
or a mess in front of my eyes...

i daydream, once i was a young man, once i was so carefree
that was the time when poetry was vibrating like a
man's flesh between my legs...

i miss the river and the baths and the fish swimming under my belly.
i miss the songs of the frogs, how they prayed for rain and how
the celebrate when it comes.

i miss the summer months of April and May when love was as
abundant as bees.

I miss you. Your gaze burns me.
Your kiss makes me feel so alive.

thinking about you, yes, about love in abundance, and then
oh, the ecstasy of words.

i have written, i shall speak, when you return.
I have written the happy poem, tell me when

shall i write it again.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A place for you

Maybe in your absence
I will write
another thousand poems,

since it’s as if something is chasing me
and there’s power
in words
that goes out like a spell.

Sometimes fingers only wait
to let words sprout
before they even form
in thoughts,

still the castles
that I build with words
wants to hold a place for you.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem of the Ageing

A simple poem I wanted to write
The words were so clear in my mind
But my fingers were numb and sore
Lift a pencil they can't at all
Before a few lines write I could
With my signpen wrestle I should

I tried to read what I've written
And asked my self how did I fare
The words I saw were all in blur
And were in badly crooked lines
I have but lost my metering
And all my lines did hardly rhyme

My next poems shall not be written
And in my thought will just remain
Be unrecited as they may
Till in my mind they fade away

poem by Pacific Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words Not Enough

I can sit and write and write,
sit and write all night.
And none of my words can convey to you
my feelings of delight.
For love is centered right in my heart
and inflames my sense of you.
And the pen and words are insufficient
for only expressions are in view.

For I'd gladly lay my pen aside
and let my fingers touch your hand.
And all of the writing I have done
could never be as grand.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Washing Of The Water

River, river carry me on
Living river carry me on
River, river carry me on
To the place where I come from
So deep, so wide, will you take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall, would you swallow me deep inside
River, show me how to float
I feel like Im sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water
My feet wont touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around
Going away, away towards the sea
River deep, can you lift up and carry me
Oh roll on though the heartland
til the sun has left the sky
River, river carry me high
til the washing of the water make it all alright
Let your waters reach me like she reached me tonight
Letting go, its so hard
The way its hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with thing
cause if I follow through
I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide
River, oh river, river running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water will you take it all away
Bring me something to take this pain away

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Will The Words Come Back?

Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?

13 July 2009

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Would You Like

Tell me you name, tell me your sign.
Please tell me that my mind is right.
I just want to take you to my home.
Where we can talk by a fire all alone.
There's just one thing that I need to know.
Could you ever be there when I woke up,
Or will you be just another and be gone?

Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?

I take one look at you and my heart can't stop smiling.
It begins to display on the outside and my lips curl up.
Looking at you from across the void I can see my life with you.
You take a glance at me and can't help but notice to.
I walk around the corner and fade out of your sight.
I love playing this game.

You chase me around the corner at the end of the aisle.
And we both meet each other eye to eye.
My hands behind my back.
Can you guess what I've got in mind.
Oh I think you'll be suprized.
You look at me and begin to smile.

I see the moonlight fall across your face as you sleep.
I take one look at you as my fingers gently stroke your cheek.
You breathe in and breathe out and stir awake.
Looking up at me and smiling all the while.
I bend down and kiss you ever so slowly.

My lips want to take in every taste it can.
My fingers what to rub your smooth skin.
My eyes want to see all your love dep inside.
And no matter how hard I try.
My mind can't comprehend the beauty within.

If I bought you a dozen roses would you fall in love?
If I wrote you that special love poem would you kiss me tight?
If I took you to a lakeside of of a romantic dinner would you stay the night?
Would you like the candle's flickering lights?
Would you like the expressions of my words rolling off my tongue?
Would you come be with me even though the night's young?
Would you like the kiss that takes the breath away deep within your lungs?

Would you want to be with me through the rest of your life?
Would you want to be with my heart through the beating might?
Would you want to grab my hands and love me through all the bad time?
Would you want to hug me in the anger of emotions and try to fight?
Would you stand within my heart and dance in the spotlight?
Would you like to be with me through the whole night?

poem by Josh Burnett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Ageing Poem

A simple poem I wanted to write
The words were so clear in my mind
But my fingers were numb and sore
Lift a pencil they can't at all
Before a few lines write I could
With my signpen wrestle I should

I tried to read my scribbles
And asked my self how did I fare
The words I saw were all in blur
And were in badly crooked lines
I have but lost my metering
And all my lines did hardly rhyme

My next poems shall not be written
And in my thought will just remain
Be unrecited as they may
Till in my mind they fade away

poem by Pacific Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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

poem by Ravi Sathasivam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleepless In Mindanao Island

the mind is nude
the air is warm
inside this darkness
a single lamp
flickers... i am sleepless
again in Mindanao island

the last window is closed.
the monitor lights and blinks
and the sound of the keys
start to run, fingers playing
on words, words
making love with thoughts
the ecstasy is felt once,
twice, and then the rapture
of beauty, the dance of grace,
the steady trickle of
emotions, there is music

this poem for you.
love and sleeplessness.
lust and restlessness.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Introduction To A Poetry Book

Poetry Is More Than Mere Words,
i agree
mere words do not make poetry
it is the mixture
of night
and day
and day
and night
when
you think of yourself
and the other
when the night
dragged
so slowly
and you forget
that
morning has arrived
like
an unwanted visitor
of you party

it's a profound expression of what's inside oneself.

oh yes, it is always the inside
that matters
myself wanting to get out
from the cave
of innocence
and assume
the form
of a bird
wanting to fly away and never come back
since
there is no home
anymore to
speak of

It's an impressive play of words with meaning and
depth through which the author shares his feelings,
thoughts,
and
ideas.

i agree, it is sharing
above all, reaching to others who take the same
walk with you
angst
depression
joys
bliss
nu mbness
and feelings
of guilt

a confession

Through poetry, he conveys his innermost self -
putting them into vivid
and vibrant verses
that tell stories,
express sentiments,
and speak of lives.

In this kaleidoscope of poems,
he gives focus on everything
and anything there is,
making this poetry
as diverse as life itself.

Enjoy

these poems, and

you'll find yourself inspired

to write your own.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Author's Inspiration

My fingers do not type the words on the page; they do not draw delusions on a thin piece of white lined paper. They are not meant for the works of art to be used and unworthy for. My fingers are worthy enough to paint pictures inside your cognizance, more than painting a paintless sheet that means nothing to me. My fingers work as if every picture I paint in my mind, inspires them to write the unwritten page, to make it a master piece. But not every inspiration inside my mind, will take merely a second to create. It takes time, patience, and art to smear the writings onto a page. Author inspiration is from what comes from the heart; deep and dark, inspring and light - it's as if it was left inside its cage. No freedom, no light, no darkness, no being of a creature that the render of the paper, simply gave up on inspiring the little ones'. It's as if this mere creature was left within a white blank world. No colors to paint, no words to express. An author inspiration is formed when they see or hear other works of art, whether it's music to their ears, movies they wish to be in, life and feelings that they feel or positioned in, or other writings that they write something else about - but as an inspiration from them. An inspiration can be from anything from the outside world, from what happens inside one's life, to what creates such imagination within one's thoughts that coats the page with color and creativity. Anyone can be talented. Anyone can have an inspiration. You just have to feel and be it.

poem by Alicia Meyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just A Blank Page In Front Of Me

I sit here at my desk
trying to figure out a line to write,
inspiration seems to have deserted me tonight.
I hear no strings of love;
feel no emotions deep,
just a blank paper in front of me.
Each word I write seems to stop there,
no further words follow.
I’m in despair.
What happed to the happy words I want to write,
the feelings I want to express?
Gone I’m afraid for tonight.
Let us hope they return
at tomorrows dawning light.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I’d Like to Write a Sonnet Just in Fun

I wrote to write my thoughts in clarity
I wrote to write ideas and views that storm
You see I wrote to write tranquility
But now I want to write in sonnet form

I like emotions locked inside fourteen
Inside with beats I’ve never known before
The sonnet life has rule as code adds mien
To quench my thirst for laws that I explore

I lay the code in mind to bring feelings
With beats I join to capture its allure
In words I write to form with beats freeing
To play amongst the codes that I procure

I will reread and learn as I arrange
With feelings that will flow as beats will change

poem by Paul Moosberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!

THOSE who misspell
And those who are still coping up
With their metaphors
The techniques
Of rhyme & beat
Those who think
They do not
Know how to
Write poetry
And those
Who fear
What to say
What to write
What the others say
About their poetry
And those that doubt
Their writing
Abilities
Their thoughts

Their feelings
Their feelings
Their feelings
Yes
Yes
Their feelings

Or those who simply
Fear that they may only
Be displeasing
And disappointing

And those whose
Sense of confidence
About this thing
This poetry
This poem thing
Those that still
Hide what they
Feel to what they
Think

Is prose

Those who think that
Their life
Is not worth
Sharing in the
The beat and
Rhyme of poetry

Behold
The mere thought
About life
About a beating heart
The pulse
The eyes that blink
The fingers fidgety
That type the words

Of feelings
Of feelings
Yes
Yes
About feelings
It is all about feelings

The genuine feelings
Of your life
You type them
Each word
To another word
A chain of words
A long chain of words

Like playing the music
To the piano keys
Like strumming
The strings of a
Flamenco guitar

A certain music
A certain beat
To the sound
Of your computer keys
Hear the beat
And the rhyme
Of your computer keys
Each word
To another word
To a chain of words
To a longer chain of words
You are running a chain of feelings
You are chasing a chain of feelings long chained in your hearts wanting to be free

To be free
To be free
Yes
Yes
You, feeling to be free to run free to be all free

Like you were scattering red rose petals to this pedestal
Like you were sprinkling waters to this garden
Like you were splashing waters in the sea
Like you were bathing playing dancing in the rain
Like you were humming a tune to a trek on a hill
Like you were making love with your beloved the whole night

Behold
A poet in you is born

Behold
You are typing
A poem

You are
Feeling

And you are
By all means

Now a poet

I hereby baptize you
With that name.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Am I And Where Am I Going

those are not questions now.
and i do not need to answer them.
for you.

where am i, i am here, my hands
owning a set of fingers. fingers that
grope for words. for us.

i like to think
i am groping for
the words of love. for you.
i like to see how a leaf sways
caressed by the wind that
loves it. gently. for us to think about

for a time, being, here.
where am i, i am beside
a big box. a house. i am inside.
this big empty box, where
a loud music is played
and my ears are dying
to be sealed by fate

to deafening indifference
of you. from me. i am here.
saving on words. scribbling
some meanings. for us.

i am in the middle of
an overuse. i am in need
of a recluse. for us. to fuse
again.

some birds tweeting
the sound of departure.
is this the mating season
of the wind and the water
and the river and the sea?

where am i going?
i am going nowhere.
i am staying i am loyal
to this seat

i am warm like
a palm. i am going,
let me tell you honestly,

i am going to make a difference.
for us. we shall never be the same again.

you grip my hand. I escape through the fingers
of my watery self.

as usual, you will see me: a river, and then i am

the sea.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet To Be

A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.

I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.

I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.

I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.

But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.

I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.

I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.

I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.

A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.

I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.

I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.

It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.

A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.

But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.

How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.

As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.

poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Do You Really Find It Hard To Write A Poem?

Related quotes

Do Not Be Afraid To Write The Worst Lines

I Wrote A Poem I Could Not Write

I Need to Write

Sometimes I Wonder

A place for you

Poem of the Ageing

Words Not Enough

Washing Of The Water

Will The Words Come Back?

What Would You Like

My Ageing Poem

A poem for you...

Sleepless In Mindanao Island

An Introduction To A Poetry Book

Author's Inspiration

Just A Blank Page In Front Of Me

I’d Like to Write a Sonnet Just in Fun

THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!

Where Am I And Where Am I Going

A Poet To Be

En.Citatepedia^®.ro