I Want You To Go, Please Go
please go now
it is dark and you need sleep
you are tired, you are disturbed, and i do not want to be the reason
for your disturbed feelings
leave me alone
i always have to suffer alone
it is my season of pain, it my turn to be miserable
i will be alone in this and you cannot be of help
no one can
it is me finally caught in my own world of loneliness
the world that i write about so many times described in all
my poems
please go now, i do not want to see a beautiful person like you crying
let there be no tears
and sobs
a gentleman like me still has dignity
let me have the honor, the opportunity to go in peace
to the world that i can no longer write and talk about
because it will be indescribable
because there i am no longer myself
but another being
perhaps with wings and with feelings which are so light
like floating and drifting clouds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Questions
Write me what you're wearing! Is it warm?
Write me how you lie! Do you lie there softly?
Write me how you look! Is it still the same?
Write me what you're missing! Is it my arm?
Write me how you are! Have you been spared?
Write me what they're doing! Do you have enough courage?
Write me what you're doing! Is it good?
Write me, who are you thinking of? Is it me?
Freely, I've given you only my questions.
And I hear the answers, how they fall.
When you're tired, I can't carry it for you.
If you're hungry, I have nothing for you to eat.
And so now I leave the world
No longer there, as if I've forgotten you.
poem by Bertolt Brecht
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My Beautiful World
My Beautiful World is kind
My Beautiful World is sweet
My Beautiful World is nice
My Beautiful World is generous
My Beautiful World is selfless
My Beautiful World has given me everything i need, and then some
I love My Beautiful World, and My Beautiful World loves me
I am the only one on My Beautiful World
But i am not lonely, not in the least bit
My Beautiful World and I have each other
But...there is a problem
My Beautiful World is tired
My Beautiful World is sore
My Beautiful world has wounds and scars
Some will never heal
I do everything i can to help
My Beautiful World wants to explode
and the thing is...
I'm still on My Beautiful World
So if she explodes, I explode with her
It would be an honor to go like that...
But that is not how i want it to end
I want to be on My Beautiful World forever
If you haven't figured it out yet
My Beautiful world isn't a world at all
She is a very special person...
who happens to mean the world to me.
poem by That lil emo kid
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Who Does Not Really Want To Write The Best Poem In The World?
yes, a five-star poem.
the one fit for first prize
awards, the one that will
make you famous
worldwide,
who does not like to
go on tv? read that famous
poem personally.
me? sorry i don't.
i am tired writing the best poem
of my life
been writing for years
i can imagine
trying to fit in
with the most famous ones
dead and alive
but i know i can never write it
because i can't
because i don't
because i do not have any reason
to write it.
i love to write.
AND that is foremost.
that is final. nothing ambitious.
nothing to change your world
or this world or that world
nothing to influence another
indonesian or turk
or swedish or
anybody or anything
what advantage do i get
when i say i just love to write
when i say i do not want to write the best poem in the world?
nothing, except the joy of having
to make the deep breath
in my life.
air that fills my lungs
and make me dream and make me sleep
longer than you do.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Had So Many Other Poems To Write
I HAD SO MANY OTHER POEMS TO WRITE
I had so many other poems to write
So dark and deep in me
But suddenly
A small ailment came
And I could no longer be.
The world goes on
There are other poems
As good or better than mine
There are trillions and trillions of other things
The world won't vanish without mine
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem To Change The World
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
A world with barbwire fences
Try to cross and you get stuck
You get pinned and you can’t come back
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would take those barbwire fences down
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
With spotlights that blind rather than show the way
You have to look away
With spots in your eyes you cannot see
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would turn those spot lights away
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
Airplanes that get you there if you can pay the fair
If you’re poor, you will work hard but go no where
Those who fly, are they thankful to the sky
Ya
If I could just write a poem that would make this world fair
I wish I could write a poem that would change the world
What is worse is war
And it is over there, where we send our children
There is nothing here but fear
Ya
I wish I could write a poem that make that no more
How much longer will the birds and trees
have to put up with our dirty breeze
All the water in this world
someday none of it will be safe to drink
If I could just write a poem that would clean up this mess
poem by Roger Harkness
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Why I Write?
I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face
poem by Asif Andalib
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Honesty
Honesty
Has no
Place -
In this
World.
When I was
Honest -
With you,
And told you
How much I
Loved you…
You said -
Never to write
Such thoughts
To the one
You love,
But to write
Someplace
Else, for instance,
In a diary.
Now,
I express
My feelings
To the world
And ironically,
You come
Searching
My poems…
Just to see if I
Still love you.
Don't know
Why a man
Takes for
Granted -
The woman
Who loves him.
When he loses her
To the world…
He hopes, she'll
Come back to him.
But times gone by
Never come back,
My friend.
Some love stories
Have a very sad
End.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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If I am no longer disturbed myself, I will deal less with disturbed people, but I don't regret having concerned myself with them because I think most of us are disturbed.
quote by Tennessee Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Will Come A Day / When I No Longer Write
THERE WILL COME A DAY/ WHEN I NO LONGER WRITE
There will come a day
When I no longer write-
No dream of poetry
And no new poems will appear-
The world will have many new poems
As it always does-
But mine will not be among them-
As in life so in poetry
We are in our own small worlds all- only to ourselves-
‘Horseman pass by’ said Yeats as his good- bye.
But who was Yeats,
And who am I?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dark writing....
Dark shadows sneak under the door
As I keep writing these dark lyrics more
Of a nature that's not evil or unkind
Rather of disturbing thoughts in my mind.
They say for everything bad it's found
Something good it has to come around
The weather wouldn't be pleasant if wasn't for the rain
These feelings wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the pain.
I'm doing a storm in a cup of water to prepare
Meanwhile around people don't even care
I pray for my life to not end before these stanzas
But mindlessly I write and write looking for the answers.
My cold dark poems are everywhere
Floating around in the midnight air
Listen, closely you have no choice
These dark words, my deep voice.
Where the world is falling apart,
There lies a dark poem of the heart
Dark poems tell the darkest lines
They make you hear their shrieking cries.
Hold dearly onto your ravaged soul;
Don't find you've let life take its toll
Youll find my dark poems are everywhere
Read them, like them, if you dare….
I am the shadow hiding in the dark
The evil sounds that wake you in the night
I'm a shadow lurking in the dark
Because still it always feels so right
So I write my shadowy poems line by line
But I'm constantly over looked
My brain is fried down to the spine
And my broken heart is cooked
I'm left only with part of a heart
That will never again beat
I'm the one person
No one has to meet
I am a shadow lurking in the dark
Writing my poems so deep
Whispering my words so stark
Pray your soul to keep…
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Meaningless
Sometimes you do things for others
never realising what it does to you.
It feels as if you’re helping them
then realize what it has done to you.
You get lost along the way
withdrawing from the world
and no longer having anything to say.
Gone is that, that nurtured you
as you turn your back away.
Your world becomes a blank page
with just one word written on it
and that word is despair.
You no longer have anyone
to talk to and share your ideas.
You recede into apologies
for nothing that you’ve done.
The comfort zone you once had
is gone never to return.
You slip into boredom that you once knew.
Your life is filled with images,
which are meaningless to you.
Your stuck in a world
that is neither happy or sad,
but which is meaningless and empty.
Your creativity has all but ebbed away
and shrunk back into the void
that once controlled your life
and looks like doing it again.
You wander through each day
devoid of the things you need
to carry your life through. It happened why you ask.
The answer is not so readily available.
Slowly you fall into loneliness
where no thoughts are written down,
sliding into an empty world
where your voice is never heard
and no voices come back to you.
The world of desolation
where you are no longer an individual,
but just another empty drone.
Your emotions have been drained away,
your feelings are now gone.
You face each day without caring
whether it will be your last.
poem by David Harris
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Bacolod 2012
it is not planned
but just the same i went there
i've been there many times
bathed in its hot spring
felt the coldness of its trees
and scaled the vastness of its
fullness
i stood on top of a hill
felt the sun
ached my eyes for its mountains
wrote about its beauty
nothing extraordinary
in a final note it is not about its name
or history
not even about a place
or anyone
not about myself, it is indescribable
it cannot be said
it cannot be thought for long
because once you settle upon it
longer than you wish
it too is gone away
and when you step upon the stairs of another plane
you forget and try to remember another place
no, not another person
it is this travel of non-attachment at all
the bed that you sleep last night
is no longer a bed
the table cloth that you stained with the sap of
the luscious ripe mango fruit is no longer a cloth
you are on top of the world
on top of the white clouds that block all view
from the earth from all memories
and you keep saying now and writing each piece
piercing you and you do not mean anything
it is just the passing and the going and the non stopping
out of your mind out of this world
out of what dissipates like light in darkness
it is cold you cover your face with the blanket of
the plane
and then you cease
that is the story that you have written
it is intended for no one
now, not even for this earth
or the imagined heavens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Beautiful World
When I’m with you
For just a moment or a day
I can see my beautiful world
When I look into your eyes
As you hold me in your arms
I can feel my beautiful world
When we talk and laugh
Sometimes for no reason at all
I can hear my beautiful world
How I look forward to the mornings
When I know you’ll be there
Loving me in my beautiful world
And then the evenings come
And then the weekends come
And I must leave my beautiful world behind
To go back to my reality
Back to him and to a world
I don’t find beautiful
But at least I know how
My world would have been….
With you…..not only in my dreams….
It would have been…
It should have been…
Our beautiful world……
poem by Tortured Soul
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Soap
you wish i were true
to every word i wrote in my poems
like sadness
that i must be sad when my poems
talk about sadness
like separation and disgust and pain
that i must suffer
with the poems i write that i must have despair
and pain too
and disgust
for every word of disgust written in every word
in every line
how cruel of you
how cruel of truth
how can i justify my death when i speak only of death
and in the very poem
where i write the word
death
there is soap
there is this box of untruths in pandora and when i open it
they must spread and you may refuse to believe
me again
but it would be very cruel of you
to make these poems
all these poems be my life my only life
and lived
and day by day lived in accordance with the
mouths of these poems
empathy
is the word, it is like i am putting my feet in another person's
shoes
then i write, and i could have written about this word: happiness
joy, bliss
ecstasy, light, and amazing glory
i choose not to,
i think, i have too much of it, and i do not share it for now
there is no necessity
and i cannot really help
with so much loneliness and sadness out there
with them i stretch my hands to hold them and feel them
and they all become
myself. it is not soap then, and there are no bubbles in the skies
there is no child playing amazed by the bubbles that burst and by the
bubbles that
are so abundant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suffer
Im gonna suffer for you no longer
Im gonna suffer for you no more
Im gonna write you out of my life
And shut the door
You tried to drive a wedge between me and my friends
You pushed me to the edge time and again
Ive been living in your shade since I cant remember when
Now Im bringing this charade to an end
Im gonna suffer for you no longer
Im gonna suffer for you no more
Im gonna write you out of my life
And shut the door
There was subtlety and skill in your manipulative ways
You chipped away my will so you could make me stay
You soothed me with your voice until I obeyed
But Im making my own choice from today
You used the tongue of love like a boxer uses fists
You contained me like a glove or a creeping cloak of mist
You guaranteed the stars but there always was a twist
Now I see you as you are - egotist !
Im gonna suffer for you no longer
Im gonna suffer for you no more
Im gonna write you out of my life
And shut the door
Ive got a ticket in my hand and I must be moving on
But I want you to understand that from the moment I am gone
I release and let you go - you owe nothing now to me
Im not angry anymore - Im free !
Im gonna suffer for you no longer
Im gonna suffer for you no more
Im gonna write you out of my life
And shut the door
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't
Many people write
For their true emotions to unravel
Out of depression, angst, spite
But I can’t
I don’t write poems when I’m sad
They write from their experiences
When he left me
When they died
Bringing tears, causing cries
But I can’t
I don’t write when I’m sad
The tears dutifully stain my cheek
And roll on and on
Through and through
Down
Down
Down
But I can’t
And I don’t write poems when I’m sad
And all the anger and sadness
Thrust inside of me
Just bursting to get out
Screaming
Pleading
Begging to get out
But they can’t
Because I don’t write poems when I’m sad
And I don’t know what to do
How to express my pain
And woe, and the feeling
It drains me, and it shows
But there’s nothing I can do
Because I don’t ever write poetry when I’m sad
When the World Goes Dark
when the world goes dark
and the grief emerges
washes over your being
pushing over your mind
when the world goes dark
and the monsters come out
taunting you with your fears
rocking your soul with pain
when the world goes dark
and time stops suddenly
and your trapped
in a never ending struggle
when the world goes dark
and the pain floods you
your heart shatters again
your souls light put out
when the world goes dark
and your all alone
crying those bitter tears
that taste like sadness
when the world goes dark
and only the truth is left
the ugly reality comes forth
the real behind all the masks
when the world goes dark
and its just you and me
my true self with show
i have nothing left unknown
poem by Sophie Kennedy
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Can Tears Write A Poem?
CAN TEARS WRITE A POEM?
Can tears write a poem?
And for what?
The thousandth time
The same complaints arguments discussions-
“We are nowhere
And we will never get anywhere
And we are nothing”
“ No, we are really something somehow
And will be when the world wakes up”
And over and over
The same pain and the same complaint
Life as the despair one can only go deeper in-
And the tears, the tears
Which try to say.
“Because I care for you so much and share your pain
We nonetheless will see light in the world”
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poet in His Own Time
Who am I to criticize others,
I'm a poet in my own time,
my own place and my own world.
I just write what I see feel,
and hear.
My poetry may be different,
I don't follow the path
of other poets, but that's
ok, let them write what
they must write in their
own way.
All poetry is beautiful,
some takes longer to
understand.
We're all in this together
we write the poetry that
fulfills our needs.
(4-11-07)
I Wanted To Write The Most Beautiful Poem
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one beyond any music I had known-
The one which would reveal the changes
in yellows and greens
spring sunlight whispered to the trees
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one which would tell the stories of all those I have loved and cared for-
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
As a poem of Kindness-
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
Of sublime and overpowering distance
Of stars when stars were dreams -
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem-
But I knew many other poems already written
Would always be far more beautiful than mine-
So I tried to write the most beautiful poem I could-
But the light outside
The world and its colors
The beauties we see and hear everyday
Said to me again and again,
'Walk more humbly with your God and do Justice and love Mercy also'.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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