Dyslexia
thanks for the poem,
let me extend my sympathy
long live dyslexia!
let the words untangle the meaning
of the world let the world
untangle the meaning of the word
there is nothing there
but pity
a bird sings early this morning by my window
the vine has grown more leaves
the sun comes out between the two breasts of a hill
i take my bath and then
move on to the beauty of the words of the world
the freshness of the air from the sea
to the fulfillment of my lungs
to the lightness of my heart.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In This World Of Infinite Words
IN THIS WORLD OF INFINITE WORDS
In this world of infinite words
So many poems have already been written,
Infinite poems in infinite words-
Therefore any new poem simply seems to cry out its own non- necessity-
Yet in a word in a voice
A whole world can be born and transformed-
A new poem a real poem
Can make us forget all the others
And make all the others live through it-
Yet who in this world of infinite words
Can write this poem?
And when will the next set of strangers names come
To show me that my words are nothing?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words Sometimes Take On A Own Meaning
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and sometimes they are sharp and painful
as if there is much more to words
as if a kind of secret knowledge hides in them
that are sometimes something moving.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
but somehow words can at times miss things
and are sometimes dependent on feelings
as if there is much more to words
when through it all love brings a kind of bonding
and so you and I are attractive to each other.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and daily a bond develops between us,
while you become more considerable to me,
as if there is much more to words
you constantly live in my thoughts,
while love becomes real through words.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
as if there is much more to words…
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Way For A Poem To End
THERE IS A WAY FOR A POEM TO END
There is a way for a poem to end
In which its meaning remains forever enigmatic
And there is a way for a poem to end
In which its meaning closes the circle.
And there is a way for a poem to end
Which is only a beginning for a poem elsewhere.
There is a way for a poem to end
Which leads to all other poems
And a way for a poem to end
Which says that this is all the world there is
And no more need be.
This poem is ending now
Like a life which has lost its meaning.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Big Or Brief Poetry......!
Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!
Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?
Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!
Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!
Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meaning
Why you keep
Peeping into
Boloji? !
To see if I've
Written any new
Poetry? !
I've penned a poem
On your heart…
Go and decipher it.
Read in between
The lines…
And decode the
Hidden meaning ;)
That will give you
An ‘out of the world'
Meaning…which will
Change your life…
And give your world -
A whole new meaning :)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lovers In The World Of Words
we shall be lovers
in the world of the words
you can be a pronoun
not a name of a person
and i can be a verb
making love with you
in the world of words
you can just be a phrase
and i can be a clause
we can make a sentence
not a question but this
interjection but not that
loud but something so
discreet like a moaning
sound of a woman
titillated by a man inside
a scented room and then
for all we know in the world
of words we have become
a beautiful poem of love
insatiable desire, endless
quest of our real meaning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Endless World Of Words Opens Again
THE ENDLESS RIVER OF WORDS OPENS AGAIN
The endless river of words opens again
And once more it becomes possible
To say on endlessly
The dreams we can see before our eyes
When we open them to the morning light
Or the darkest deepest sky of star- filled night.
All is open again to wonder
And there can be a hope
Which means
Survival alone is not what Life is all about
But instead also
The countless small beauties one sees everywhere
When one knows how to look.
There is a world after all
Outside oneself
And that world described
Can too be a poem -
And every reality take on its own meaning
And Beauty be in so many seen and said things
That life in joy becomes possible and poetry again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Words Of A Poem
OH WORDS OF A POEM
Oh words of a poem
Oh wondrous being-
Oh meaning made by my mind alone-
Oh kindness of words-
Oh gift in their music-
Oh beauty of speech-
Oh words of a poem-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I wish
the real gifted
poet thrives
in this world
with words
that have taken up
meaning in the nether world
the realms
heavenly
and the non heavenly
the energised words
run through him
to other hearts
to light up the candles there
brighten up their world
help them
enjoy the
mysterious
elements
of the other worlds, realms
throwing the sparks
into their mind
so that for a moment
they too would feel
they are poets
share some of their thoughts
as the words wind
through their heart, soul
the whole system
to rattle the world
in various ways
the written poem
evolves into
something more intense
the colours the artist
pads onto his canvas
each stroke
a new painting born
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Walks Without A Poem
HE WALKS WITHOUT A POEM
He walks without a poem
There is no poem in his mind
No poem in his heart.
But the idea of a poem
The dream of a poem
The daily task of a poem
The justification given by a poem-
He stops and writes these words down.
All around him
the morning light sings songs
of the things
of this world.
A poem perhaps?
Perhaps not?
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Meaning Of A Poem
THE MEANING OF A POEM
The meaning of a poem
Is written within the lines
And between them.
It is outside and around,
Under and above
Where the simple sense is.
The meaning of a poem surrounds and embeds it,
And forces it to twist and turn within and without itself,
In more directions than it itself knows.
The meaning of a poem burns-
And aches to show
Where the wound is.
Oh scars of words and simple singing melodies of light
Where is your balm of thunder and dawn, now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the poem comes
When the poem comes
And you are alive again
And you know there is some meaning in what you do-
When the poem comes
And all you are begins to sing
And your heart and mind open up before the world -
And you believe again in yourself and your world-
When the poem comes
Oh what a joyful world and life it is then again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Do Not Have...
you do not have to
read me
for me to become
another poet
i am
and i can be
and i will be
even without you
and you are
and you can be
and you shall be
even without me
i am a poet
because i have decided to write the poems
and the poem shall be there forever
until the right reader comes along
the one who loves
a poem even without me
even without you
even without the world
this poem and that poem shall be
even without us
for these are words
and words shall be words even without the world
for it was the word which came first
and shall remain
till eternity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Live-in World
(charley foskett)
Producer for bonnie: charley foskett
Recorded in 1986 for the charity album 'it's a live-in world', part of the anti-heroin project. lyrics taken from careful listening.
Put an end to that long cold existence you've lived by
Let a warm and loving hand touch your pain
The part of you that is hurting, making you cry
When all the world looks like the devil in a 3-d frame
Pull down defences
Open up your heart
Don't build defences
'cause they'll only fall apart
'cause it's a live-in world
A live-in world
It's a live-in world
A live-in world
It's a live-in world
It's alright by me
So why can't you see
It's a live-in world
A live-in world
It's a live-in world
Alone and afraid and it's all inside
It starts breaking
And we cry from inside
But the help is denied once again
And your heart has grown cold
'cause you've grown so old
Bones aching
You'll be a slave to that white-powered whore
'til the dragon is slayed
'cause it's a live-in world
A live-in world
It's a live-in world
A live-in world
It's a live-in world
It's alright by me
So why can't you see
It's a live-in world
A live-in world
It's a live-in world
Etc...repeat and fade...
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coming Back....
pressing the orange.
it is not you that feels the pain
or the
pressure.
someone else does it for you
as you watch
when he twists his fingers and his face
but you
have other things to see
with the gladness of your
heart.
she sings a song early this morning
after she bathes herself
in extreme coldness
and i wonder why she did not use the hot shower.
it is the coldness of the morning
that makes her sing
as i still put myself under the thick cover
of a thick blanket.
this denial.
early shall she move out.
no word is wasted.
do not ask the meaning of moving out
it can be painful
reinvent the word, coming back, redefine it.
who knows?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let This One Poem Be About Me
Let this one poem be just about me
Let this one poem engulf all my beauty
Let this one poem define my soul
Let this one poem consume me whole
My soul was earth bound
And my heart lay in a place that it would never be found
Let this poem be what entangles my mind
Let this poem be where people will find
They will find that missing link
And this poem it will make them think
They will wonder how this girl came
They will wonder how I avoided fame
I didn’t write these words to please
I wrote these words to tease
My heart it’s the type that beckons for ease
And my taste will not accept the flavor of peas
Let this poem describe me in most simplest of ways
Let this poem show how I get through these days
And I know people will read this and say…
This girl she knew where heart lay…
Let this poem eat me whole
Let me entire heart bleed its luscious love into a broken bowl
My soul wanted only to be free
And this poem only pushed it back into me
I never will lose any part of my soul
Because then this world will swallow my inner being whole
Let this poem be what I hate
Let this poem describe with who I would mate
Let this thoughts become my ways
Let this poem be where I stray
Let this poem show how I lie
Let this poem describe how I will die
Yes I am human I cannot avoid death
Yes I am human I chose not to use meth
These words they dance upon this page
These words they have no age
These verses have lost all meaning
Because I revealed my demeaning
Let this poem describe what I deem right
Let this poem that I will always fight
My age floats through these words
And people will never understand why I want to be heard
Let this poem be only about me
Let this poem be what sets me free
And I know some day people will look at this and say…
This girl, this girl she knew exactly where her heart lay…
poem by Victoria Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is Like A Beautiful Work Of Art
A poem has no write or
wrong,
How to write your poem
is up to you,
Visualize a perfect poem
That readers will love,
Adjust a poem as much as
you want,
Remember a poem is like
art,
You write it with meaning
and passion,
Add as much as your heart
desires,
Short or long it does not
matter,
Add a picture with your
poem,
Add a quote or a verse,
it is a poet's decision,
Always be proud of your poem,
Let the words flow when you
write,
A poem expresses a feeling,
thought and emotion,
Add a frame and hang it up
on a wall,
share your talents with the
world,
Poetry is like a beautiful
work of art.
poem by Derek James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The f word and me
The other day we discussed reasons
why people use
the magical f word.
a Young woman is of the opinion
that it’s because of a lack of imperfect language,
where a person’s vocabulary
lacks other words to use.
I think that there are many more other reasons
to slip in everywhere
and that vocabulary
has very little
or nothing to do with it.
One thing that can incite it
is exposure,
where people hear it
hundreds of times
every day
like in an army.
Subsequently without intention
it becomes part of your conversation
and your own vocabulary,
without drawing any attention
with yourself.
The word f is a power word
that give colour intensity
to the meanings of other words
and it can underline, emphasize
or lift some out.
You can also use it as a word
that has many meanings
and use it like a good shifting spanner
that shift for meaning values.
This word can also
be almost any word type
that gives bigger power
to other words used with it.
The thing that really matters
what others read
in the meaning of my words
and if I loose integrity by using it.
There are times
my mother wants to catch a fit
when I use the f word
and not from the meaning
of my words,
but from the negative context
that can be drawn with the word
and the easy transfer
of the word on children that hear my dialogue.
[With thanks to Skymaster, whose article inspired this poem.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Whose Meaning The Poet Does Not Know
A POEM WHOSE MEANING THE POET DOES NOT KNOW
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Is a question only its readers can answer.
But if in the silence of endless absence
There are no readers
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Becomes a poem which does not exist.
And a poem which does not exist
Is not the poem the poet dreamed
When he heard in the night or the early morning
That rush of music that sequence of sounds
Which seemed to say more than he would ever understand
As he wrote it down in haste
For fear it somehow would be lost.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Logic Of Poetry Has a Color And Shape Of Its Own
THE LOGIC OF POETRY HAS A COLOR AND SHAPE OF ITS OWN
The logic of poetry has a color and shape of its own
Its clear silences ring deeply as paradox confounded into meaning
How many others have made Beauty of words
And still are sung of only by the Silence?
How these days go by longing to remain alive
Because life itself bears within it the best of these most poignant dying moments?
Our doom is certain and our final word never to be clearly heard
But we as we are can be in this world for our time with all its beauty as us-
There is no more wonder than this God gives-
We look out and up each day as a child may still look for its first light above-
No one knows where the darkness ends and even if it is darkness at all
We say the word ‘God’ and all we know and mean is that our greatest meaning must be beyond us – if it is to be at all
‘God’ we say ‘God’
And who are we and what are we
if not a part too of this Beauty somehow greater than we can ourselves ever really hold on to?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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