Faithful Poet To His Craft....
he is getting bald over
words
emaciated having forgotten
several meals
because he is faithful to
his craft
everyday he writes
more poems than he could
muster
for his heavenly muses
on paper the poems become
written
well sculpted with curves
and smooth finishes
he does not know whether
they are read somewhere
but he does not care
on nights when he finds himself
alone and abandoned
by fate
he makes a fire
at the center of his yard
puts all those paper poems
there
all burned
smokes like some forms of
ghosts
go to the night skies
to be with the countless stars
in the extreme cold
of silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Back To My Work
It's time for me to write again
The poems were on pause
So as to ease my mind
Now I see it only took my emotions away
It was locked with the thoughts of new poems
Now I'm back and filled to the brim
Here come the poems
For so long tried to escape to paper
Blocked by procrastination and laziness
Welcome to the world new poems
May the paper caress you for years to come
Written January 31,2011
poem by Ryan Collins
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Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Always The Poems In Me
Always the poems in me-
Saying themselves over and over
Returning to lines learned long ago
Or lines learned with more difficulty in old age-
Always the poems in me-
While my own poems written
And forgotten
As if only
Poems of a single occasion
The time of their writing-
Always the poems in me-
The poems which others will have in them after me
Poems not my own.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poems About Poems About Poems
Poems about poems about poems-
More poems and more poems and more poems-
Poems poems poems poems poems-
How many poems?
How much poetry
Until there is no poetry at all?
But only 'words' and 'words' and 'words'
Until one goes far away
Where there was never a poem before-
And suddenly hears
“Let there be Light”.
And Poetry perhaps
Is born again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Have Read Many Poems I Know I Never Could Have Written
I have read many poems I know I never could have written
Poems whose language was far richer and more remarkable than mine
Poems that saw as I cannot see and sounded as I cannot sound
Poems of magnificent music and many hidden meanings
I have read many poems greater than those I could ever write
And have been humbled and saddened and inspired by them
Out there somewhere else
There have been real poets
And I in my own little lines
Love and respect them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly
NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.
Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Poems Are Poems Of The Light Of The Day
MY POEMS ARE POEMS OF THE LIGHT OF THE DAY
My poems are poems of the light of the day
The poems of the night are for others-
When the night comes
I hide and wait in silence
Until the day comes-
My poems are poems of the light of the day
And I dare not bring the poems of the night within them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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We Need New Poems
WE NEED NEW POEMS
We need new Poems-
So many great Poems
Have already been written.
Perhaps the Greatest poems
Have already been written.
But we need new poems.
We need our Poems
We need the poems only we can write
We need the poems we must write.
We need new poems
My poems
Your poems
Our poems.
We need new poems.
Let us write them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The History Poems Have Not Been Written
The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Which Poems Are True and Which Poems Only A Story?
WHICH POEMS ARE TRUE AND WHICH POEMS ONLY A STORY?
Which poems are true
and which poems only a story?
There are poems I have to write
They are the heart of who I am-
And other poems that tell a story my mind makes
And takes me where I do not know I'll ever really be-
There are real poems and there are imaginary poems-
And there are poems-in- between like this one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Are Poems Too Painful To Be Written
THERE ARE POEMS TOO PAINFUL TO BE WRITTEN
There are poems too painful to be written
Poems also too shameful-
And poems that cannot be said,
Because of the pain they would give others.
No one can tell all their truth
Without hurting too much.
Silence may be sacred
Hiding – True Love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Gratis Et Amore
for the poems that i have written
and which you read
by heart, i bless you with a prayer for luck
for another year
for the poems which i have not written yet,
i wish you a longer life, so you may read them
when they become finally written
for the poems i have in mind and which i will not write
i wish you patience i wish you some prayers
may these poems realize their worth
may they decide to become truths
with you i pray that God may be also kind
for those still unspoken
and may God bless your mind
may they open up like tight buds to become the flowers
of the world, the sun to warm them, the rain to shower them
may these poems live and linger
may they be like grass always unswerving to grow and cover everything
alive and loving.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moments Of Writing Poetry
Draft poems sometimes like
loose ripped off pieces of paper
to be drafted out roughly upon.
Draft poems hang around
in the strangest places waiting
to be written out one day.
Draft poems wait for a poet
to wake at the beginning of day
to be written out, in any
seized moments, sacrificed.
This is now time, shower time, eating time,
reflective time, conversation time, work time;
t.v. time, driving time, riding motorcycle time,
going to sleep time, cooking time, or any time.
Draft poems can only be written
in spared moments of seized time.
Draft poems can only be written today,
they will not wait for fair weather like hay,
which lays around waiting to be harvested.
Draft poems will not wait for a clear sunny day to dawn,
and then mature slowly, over a perfect golden summer.
Draft poems are ever now or never
if they are ever to be swiftly written.
A draft may possibly be perfected
upon any future day of favoured writing;
but a draft never written is a poem
never written, never completed, never known.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Oh The Poems And More Poems
OH THE POEMS AND THE MORE POEMS
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems I am writing all the time
God has given me this gift
And when I wait in the right way
And when I listen to myself properly
The poems come in ways I could never have thought of or imagined before
They come as mysteries as gifts as surprises
As wonderful to me as perhaps to you their possible readers
Oh the poems and the more poems
The wonderful poems God has given me
And the light of this day and so many other days, also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Moving round
The world is the paper
The sea is the ink
And I'm the sea
Full of thought
And emotion
And writing poems
On the paper-world.
The tree the bird
The cloud the air
The light the earth
Are ingredients of poems
I'm writing the poem
My poem moving round
The life's circle
You are to read and read.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Like So Many Poems I Read
LIKE SO MANY POEMS I READ
Like so many poems I read
These poems I am reading now
Are not poems to me.
They are too detached
Too abstract
Too up in the air.
I want to hear the words
Make a music of feeling
In my soul.
A poem must move me
If it is to be real.
Why then do I write these words
as if a poem?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Of All The Poems I Have Written And Forgotten
OF ALL THE POEMS I HAVE WRITTEN AND FORGOTTEN
Of all the poems written and forgotten
Are there any worthy of remembrance?
I go on losing my poems as I make more of them-
The same old story
The future calls
And the past is forgotten
And all futures
Become past.
When will I learn to remember
My own work?
To cherish it
As I do that of others?
Line after line
Racing into the distance
Of a never- to- be – known
And forever forgotten
Unreality.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Past Written Poems I Confess I Dislike
I have past written poems
which I confess I dislike
occasionally intensely dislike
when publishing most poets
will not include bad poems
but contrast can be interesting
juxtaposition of poems
arranged in selection volume
major poems great poems
will vary from reader to reader
who likes simple who craves deep
artistry from all forms may creep
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Have Written Many Poor Poems
I have written many poor poems
That may not be poems at all -
They are single in dimension
Prose
In short lines of seemingly poetic form-
They do not call for their rereading
They are not difficult in ambiguities-
They seem to me only one simple clearly understood thing-
Like this poem
They can be understood at once
And forgotten soon after.
I have written many poor poems
That may not be poems at all
And this is another one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sometimes I Find Poems
Sometimes I find poems
Like they were jewels in the sand
So excellently written
A blessing to read and understand.
Sometimes I find poems
Composed like it was a work of art
The writer weaving word tapestry
As he writes diligently from his heart.
Sometimes I find poems
Laced with just verbal grime
With random musings or lost words
That to read them is a total waste of time.
So to the writers who value the pen
With all respect, I give you my salute
With the hope you keep writing again and again
And to this site your work you contribute!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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