hello CT
Please make true
Your promise to make
For me
A poem.
Just one poem.
It will be enough
To make me
Sleep for
Another night.
Another lonely night
For me.
My silence unlike
The silence of the happy man
Does not know
What a smile is.
Its tongue
Tied, it does not utter
The syllable of the
Night.
It has no ears
To hear the coming
Footfalls of my beloved.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Poem Came To Me In The Night
MY POEM CAME TO ME IN THE NIGHT
My poem came to me in the night
Long after I should have gone to sleep
It came with darkness inside and a fear of darkness deeper still-
It was a poem of the end of the earth
A dark poem
The last poem of the day and perhaps the last poem of forever-
It came to me in the night
And made me write it down gently
And said because there is no time left
It is impossible to add on to it
Or give it true character and feeling.-
The poem of the night and its darkness
Stilled me into vulnerable silence
And I slept and went to sleep
Far from the page I wrote.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night
I STRIVE AGAINST THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT
I strive against the silence of the night
Against my own inner emptiness
I wait to hear some song from inside myself -
Nothing is written.
I go back to where I am
And begin again.
There is always a poem if one is patient enough.
But what poem?
And for what special meaning of this night?
I write again and again
A poem which is about writing a poem
And when I come to end it
I question again and again
Whether it is real.
This night is already deep in darkness
And yet I have almost broken its silence
One more line
One more writing about writing a poem -
Perhaps Memory will come back to me
And I will write a more real poem
Than this strained effort now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Silence Of Nothing To Say
The silence of nothing to say
Is forcibly broken by the will for words
A poem is made not born
And there are nights when only determination can say anything-
I write now in the shadow of the night
When all the light is artificial
When inside me is only an empty emptiness
A quiet of nothing deep or beautiful –
I can make a poem out of nothing
But then it may be nothing too
Words alone are not enough
The truer poem comes out of something deeper I do not have now
Let the words play
Let the silence be broken
Let this night be written down
For the empty poem it is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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If In The Silence Of This Night
IF IN THE SILENCE OF THIS NIGHT
If in the silence of this night
I now hear a poem
And that poem brings joy
To all I am
And makes me believe
I have something to give again,
Then why should I not write this down
Even if I know
There are far far greater poems
Which in this world of so many things
Deserve attention
More than these words?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Does The Night Have A Poem?
DOES THE NIGHT HAVE A POEM?
Does the Night have a poem?
Is there anything worth saying now?
To hear the Quiet is a kind of poem,
But I do not know-
The Night says the Wind now,
But is a small breeze enough
To make Heart and Mind
Come to Life again?
The Night is silent now
And Darkness is no answer either.
Night, Quiet, Sound, Light, Love,
The Beauty of simply being alive.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The poem is reading in my head
Silence, except for the poem
The poem is reading in my head
I can make it stop, for a while
Then it starts again
I can jump onto the words
And for a time I ride the line
Then dropping off I stand and watch
as the poem goes rolling by
The poem has broken colours
Bits of sound and not much shape
And suddenly I am in tears
I have to look away and wait
Finally there is silence
Full fat voluptuous silence
Except, except for the poem
poem by Sean Joyce
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Full fat voluptuous silence
Silence
Except for the poem
The poem is reading in my head
I can make it stop, for a while
Then it starts again
I can jump onto the words
And for a time I ride the line
Then dropping off I stand and watch
as the poem goes rolling by
The poem has broken colours
Bits of sound and not much shape
And suddenly I am in tears
I have to look away and wait
Finally there is silence
Full fat voluptuous silence
Except
Except for the poem
poem by Sean Joyce
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What Poem Can The Night Bring?
WHAT POEM CAN THE NIGHT BRING?
What poem can the night bring?
The poem of darkness?
The poem of silence?
The poem of infinite unrest?
What poem can the night bring?
When the night itself does not know its own meaning,
And all its quiet darkness says only:
A man alone cannot live as one.
A man alone can only write,
Until somewhere else
Somehow
He is heard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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For All The Poets
FOR ALL THE POETS
This is a poem for all the poets who have no name,
For all those who have written and failed,
And for those who have not written,
And failed.
This is a poem for all the poets who dreamed themselves poets,
And were never, and will be known as poets
To the world.
This a poem for all those
Who after years of effort
Still live in an oblivion
They will die in.
This is a poem for all those
Who whether they have poetry in them or not,
Will never be heard or read,
For what their hearts must tell
Someone else.
This is a poem for all the silent poets
Those who live in silence
And whose silence is eternal
For all those whose only poetry
is the poem they have lived within themselves.
This is a poem for all those who would- be poets
And a poem for those
Who despite their efforts
Did not make their poem known.
This is a poem which may be for you,
And I know is for me
A confession
To make us less alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem May Make You Happy
A POEM MAY MAKE YOU HAPPY
A poem may make you happy
It may teach you to perceive the Beautiful
It may help you sing in Love
A poem may make you dream
And take your sadness with it
To a kind of joy
You cannot understand.
A poem may make you happy.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wanted A Poem For The Morning
I wanted a poem for the morning
A poem to begin the day with-
A poem which would give my life hope -
I wanted a poem
Which would say I am alive
A good poem a kind poem
A poem which would make others a bit more happy-
And as so often
I wrote a poem
And left it as a question for the longer daylight and
the longer night which also is our life
beyond the morning-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Happy 17th birthday, Rania
***** ^.^ (Dedicated to you, my sister Rania) ^.^ ******
1 prayer to bless your moments
1 wish to lighten your way
1 smile to make your day perfect
and only 1 poem to say HAPPY 17TH BIRTHDAY
Well, this is the first time
I wish you a happy birthday
and this reminds me
that I really want to say.
I'm very happy I know
you and I wish you
all the happiness
each day, just to make it true.
Happy 17th birthday I must say
you are kind and clever I can say
For today I wish you all the best
it's your special day, so do it your way.
for your birthday I wish you happiness
that only true friendship can bring
I wish for you the best day
that makes your heart sing.
For you I wish all the beautiful things
that makes your life so bright
full of fun, joy, success and happiness
every morning, evening and night.
I send you this special poem
in a very friendly way
So you will know that someone
is wishing you ***A HAPPY BIRTHDAY**
http: //super23man.skyrock.com/
poem by Oussama samouna
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He Who Is Too Tired For A Poem At Night
HE WHO IS TOO TIRED FOR A POEM AT NIGHT
He who is too tired for a poem at night
May find in the morning
A poem effortlessly, mysteriously comes.
The light alone may be the poem
The promise of a new day
The beginning.
The poem may be
That one is alive again
And that the world too
Seems to want to say with the day
Something different.
The poem may be inherent in who we are
And what the world is.
It may come to us
As the sun rises
And may be for all of us
A new day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I can hear in the silence
The silence of our conversation
Is worse than anything you can say
And that fact that there's but silence between us
Is well to my dismay
I love you so much
Yet silence is the only thing I let escape
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
Silence draped over our conversations
Like a long, black cape
There's so much I want to tell you
But I know I wouldn't
And I want to scream at you
But I know I shouldn't
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
I know you want to say something too
Of this I'm sure
But it is only so little
That you or I will endure
The few times we talk
I can hear it in you voice
I can her uncertainty
And the need to make a choice
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
I wish silence would leave
Once and for all
Then maybe we could have better communication
Perhaps even outside a phone call
And I try so hard
Just like I try to make this poem rhyme
But it just takes too much effort
And way too much time
But you can't expect me to let silence take over
And if you do you are very wrong
And if we continue like this
We won't be together long
And I bet that's what you want
....
........
............
......... .......
The silence continues.....
And so does this game
What's worst is I know
That I'm the only one to blame
It's all my fault
It's because of what I did and didn't do
And it hurts so much
Because I'm so in love with you
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
I can hear in the silence
What I've heard for some time
You don't say anything
But I know what's on your mind
You leave behind silence
In the dark abyss that is my heart
And what's worst is
I, myself, tore it apart
...... ....... ...... ....... ........ .......
When I realized what I was doing
It was already too late
Just another
Twist of my terrible fate
And silence took over
A silence caused by me
A silence that's eternal
A silence that won't leave
................
............
.... ....
....
.
poem by Tee Anderson
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Desperation Is A Lonely Poem
DESPERATION IS A LONELY POEM
Desperation is a lonely poem
And what I have to say
And have said so many times before
Will not save me
From this situation.
Desperation is a lonely poem
And a helpless poem
And a difficult poem
And a painful poem
And a poem I do not know how to get out of.
Desperation is the silence of all these words
And the nothingness of endless not hearing
When I cry with all my soul aloud.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Needs Silence
A POEM NEEDS SILENCE TO HEAR ITSELF BE HEARD
A poem needs silence to hear itself be heard
Background clutter destroys the holy word.
Let the music play elsewhere,
Let the talkers aloud outside,
A poem needs silence
To hear itself inside.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Late Night Poem
THE LATE- NIGHT POEM
The late- night poem
Is a tired poem
It wants to sleep,
But it has not done what it should do-
Once it is written
It can go to rest.
The late- night poem
Is not a real poem,
Nothing is,
Not tonight,
In all this tiredness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem That Is About To Be Written
THE POEM THAT IS ABOUT TO BE WRITTEN
The poem that is about to be written
Will form itself slowly,
Line by line,
Will make of itself a meaning
It does not know.
Will be beyond
All that it could have thought to be – beforehand.
The poem that is being written
Has no name,
No face,
No beauty,
No light,
It is just the poem that is coming to be in the silence,
Where I am alone with my own Seeming.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Waited for the Silence
I waited for the Silence
Only then could I hear my own poem -
The Silence came and I began to write
Bu there were nonetheless small disturbing sounds
Which drowned the inner mood and melody-
I waited for the Silence again
And the Silence did not come
And the poem I wanted to hear
Was not in me -
So all I can do is write down what happened
As if this too were a poem
And the satisfaction of a need
Even if I cannot hear my own sounds.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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