In Search Of Metaphors And Images To Express Yourself In A Poem
it is the expression that matters most.
it is the relational flow from the writer to the reader
the bond that is created anew, just like an ordinary conversation
one fine day.
why can't poetry be simple and direct? that is the question that poetry
asks
to itself, in itself.
the poet in us can be lost because of so much demands for the absurd,
this metaphor fits, this imagery is perfect, what is it?
you do not accept the sun and the moon and the stars.
cliches of their poetry. You do not show compassion for his feelings
of being abandoned
simply because there are no images that tickle your senses.
even if he jumps with joy, you do not relate to his joys
simply because the images are bland like
burger without the black pepper.
it is enough that one bleeds, one wants a listener, one wants to open
up to the world
Like a bud turning into a flower
(oh forgive this lousy metaphor
i am not a good poet somehow at imaging
at imagining.
Am not a camera.
My eyes are clumsy at details.
And my ears are not sensitive to sound of
beautiful words. They even hide behind my head under my hair.
And there is no compulsion for high highfalutin
Ivory towers of similes from the gods and goddesses of
Literature)
Why can't poetry be just an expression? Just that. A dialogue.
This one, this monologue.
It is enough that you write from the heart.
It is enough that you are true
(oh forgive me, can i be really
true to you? Do i have to be naked and tell you that i am beautiful?
Do i have to master the art of metaphorisms
to be your poet
for the night?)
Or is it that poetry is simply our hiding place
From this world of pain?
Or our chapel for our prayers
Or our playground where we can be children again?
I am tired of squeezing my brain in the quest of the perfect metaphor.
I have read what they have written.
I pretend i like them. They sound so well.
They must be poetry. Real poetry
Those that garner plaques.
Prizes from the jury.
Honestly, I do not understand a thing. Those poems of my idols.
But I read them just the same.
Hoping that I am in and be counted as one of the stars in those
Metaphoric Heavens.I watch every meteor that drops
to the ground. Their tails.
I am not a star. I am just a pebble.
And it is enough for me.
The poem says, just write me.
Don't squeeze your brain to have metaphors
To draw the images.
Just be yourself, and for God's sake if you have something to say
Just say it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
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The Poetry Of Confession
THE POETRY OF CONFESSION
The poetry of confession -
The poetry of self- indulgence-
The poetry of the ‘wretch con-centered all in self’-
The poetry of moods and feelings-
Of all ideas only as they relate to the poet himself-
The poetry of desperation-
The poetry of need-
The poetry of urgency -
And serving the poet first-
Not enough of the world
Not enough of others- of other perspectives
Not formal and disciplined enough-
The poetry which is not crafted and polished
The poetry in which the need of the poet
Is more central than the quality of the poetry –
The poetry which may be too selfish to be good-
Whose moral failure makes more prominent its aesthetic flaws-
The poetry which is not so good
And not great
But quite banal and commonplace –
A poet can give his life to his poetry
And that still be nothing at all-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am Not A Poet 2
When I feel I am really a poet
I see my flesh is poetry
My pleasure is poetry
My pains are poetry
My feelings are poetry.
Poetry protects me
Poetry teaches me
How to fight back and win.
Poetry is my freedom
Poetry is my independence
Poetry is my flag
And an anthem
Poetry is my prophet
And a messanger.
But I am not a poet
Do not read me
Burn me into ashes
Let there be a flower
From the ashes.
poem by Devil Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Becomes The Poetry
THE POET BECOMES THE POETRY
After years of striving to write Poetry
The Poet becomes the Poetry
No word is not poetry in him
And no silence is not the sound
his own writing makes
Wherever he is
Whatever he does
is Poetry
Mediocre or not
Real or not
Loved or not
Understood or not
The Poet is Poetry
Unable forever to escape
what he Lives.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poetry Is All In One!
Passion for poetry is insatiable!
Poetry gives pleasure nothing can!
Poetry is many subjects under one roof!
Poetry never bores to write and read ever!
Poetry is a compression of many ideas in a nut shell!
Poetry displays power of pen to capture men ever!
Poetry captures as photo castles built in air!
Poetry is spontaneous over flow of ides!
Poetry flows free if extemporary!
Poetry is prolific words sure!
Poetry is a thing of joy!
Poetry is beauty!
Poetry is witty!
Poetry cheers!
poem by Ramesh T A
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A Definition of Poetry by a 15 yr old
Poetry does not need a meaning or defintion.
Poetry is how the reader reads it,
Poetry is how the poet writes it.
Poetry is real,
Poetry is fake,
Poetry is everything,
Poetry is fate.
Poetry is rythm.
Poetry can ryme.
Poetry is anything, I make it mine.
poem by Eric Graham
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I Dont Write Poetry!
i dont write poetry...
i sweat poetry, i drink poetry,
i breathe poetry, i make love to poetry,
i fight poetry, i eat poetry,
i bleed poetry, i crap poetry...
too often i betray poetry,
sometimes i dropp poetry.
once i tripped over poetry,
got angry and kicked poetry.
i rocked poetry on a sleepless night,
i buried poetry on the hill...
i lived poetry, for i am poetry...
no, i dont write poetry,
but poetry writes me!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Read my poetry
Read my poetry
My poetry is enough
My poetry is independent
My poetry creates itself.
Read my poetry
My poetry is not mine
Everything belongs to my poetry
My poetry creats itself.
Read my poetry
My poetry is psyche and
Alchemy in me
My poetry is independent of me.
Read my poetry
It agony its ecstasy
Its inspiration
Everything belongs to
My predecessors-poet
Read my poetry
Read my poetry.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Poetry, That's What I Write
Parody of the classic song Money, That's What I Want
The best words on the page are here
Teaching you a hell of a lot more about life
Then just the birds and bees
Now you know words of magic
Words of wisdom
Given birth
Right here, right now
Oh, yes
Poetry, that's what I write
My wicked writing should give you such a thrill
So don't be shy
Go ahead and click on this link right here
My poetry won't pay your bills, no
But I can promise to give you some kinky thrills
Now you know
Poetry, that's what I write
Bright and beautiful
Perfect as can be
Poetry, that's what I write
Oh yeah baby
Poetry
Poetry, that's what I write
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I like
Poetry
Oh yes
Poetry, that's what I love
Poetry, that's what I write
Whoa
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Well, now read my poetry
Ooooh, oooh yeah my poetry
Read my
Love my
Poetry, oh yeah that's what I like
What I love
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I write
Yeah
2008 Ramona Thompson
poem by Ramona Thompson
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry is Everywhere
To all my friends who say –
Poetry is not my cup of tea,
I’d strongly recommend that
they watch “Dead Poet’s Society”.
Poetry is in your cup of tea,
poetry is in every wave of the sea,
poetry is in the song of a bird
poetry springs forth from each of your word.
Poetry is in the smile of a baby,
poetry is in the redness of a ruby,
poetry is the union of your heart and mind
poetry teaches you to be soft and kind.
Poetry is the song of your soul,
poetry reminds you of your life’s goal,
poetry is in a game of cricket,
poetry is in the sound of a cricket.
Imagine life without poetry -
What an empty life it would be!
Imagine a world without poetry -
What a dull place it would be!
09 June 2010
! 2: 50 pm
poem by Gita Ashok
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On A Famed Poet
Forgive me if his greatness I cannot seem to note
His poems never rhyme but he is a famed poet
By literary experts considered to be knowledgeable and wise
And for his poems he has won many a prize.
Though poetry is not very popular today
The poet of the poetry lovers the experts do say
In University literary magazines students his verses read
And they all agree he's a fine poet indeed.
Of poets and poetry I must confess so little I know
My favourites old rhymers from ages ago
On the poetry I do not like most experts agree
That it is well written and quite good poetry.
Forgive me if the worth in his verse I can't see
His non rhyming poetry does nothing for me
Of reading blank verse I do quickly grow tired
My truth is by such stuff I do not feel inspired.
The experts on his poetry great interest show
And his stature as a poet only seems to grow
Of him great things are written and great things we hear
And good luck to him on his literary career.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poetry Is
poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry
poem by Daniel Romero
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Poetry On The Chin
You gouged my mind's eye,
Tantalised all inner thought,
Shocked from unknown angles;
Sold me, told me cold,
Unfolded, moulded;
Shouldered any harbouring
Of empty morals.
You spun me round; undressed -
Pestered me with background riddle -
Piffle came to gleaning meaning.
And you stripped out prejudice - for none
Must exist in poetry,
Lest you close up an open mind
And f**k up as reader;
Lest your heart is not a bleeder -
It has to be - let it flush out
Upon your sleeve.
You lay apart my thinking brain
And let in the literary pickings of a
Great poetic phallus.
Yes, poetry can be callous.
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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It Is A Habit
writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry
and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All Poetry... All The Time
All Poetry … All The Time
I Love To Read In Rhythm & Rhyme
I Love To Write Of Wistful Wishes
And Lips Speak Of Love Like Bold Kisses
All Poetry … All The Time
Poetry, Is A Medication For My Mind
Poetry, Has A Power To Overthrow Pain
Poetry, Should Be Spoken, Again and Again
All Poetry … All The Time
I Am Really Thrilled To Find
More Poet Lovers, and Their Word Artistry
All The Time … All Poetry
All Poetry … All The Time
May Each Poetic Puff, Rise & Climb
Into The Clouds, Up To The Stars
(Or Maybe Just Linger, Where You Are) …
All Poetry … For All Of Time
Written & ©: 5/24/10
By: MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Egoism of Poets
We don’t write poetry,
Poetry writes us.
How can we make poetry,
If we are part of poetry.
The world around us is poetry.
Poetry is already defined.
Calling ourselves poets.
Selfishness in every line.
Egoism in every word.
Stealing poetry from the world.
That already exists in every form.
It’s written in every mist,
Every tree, every bliss.
Who are we to write?
Calling ourselves masterminds.
Trapping ourselves in believe
That we are creating something unique
The world at our feet.
Just too full fill our need.
Even this poem is an act
of a selfish deed.
Every letter in ink.
Created through love and sin.
Writing on a paper
But it’s the world’s skin.
Pressing on the surface.
To see blue blood is our purpose.
Thinking poetry is ours.
Poetry devoured
By poets every hour.
Poems all around us.
Turning grey to dust.
Turning brown to rust.
We have captured the most
But there is still so much.
Bleeding away in disaster, poverty
And war.
Ink to us all.
A poet’s only lord.
His only norm, his only home.
His precious and beloved poem.
We should be ashamed.
poem by Nadim Lost Soul
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Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.
It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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True Poetry in Limelight
True poetry is filled with;
true inspiration,
true expression,
true composition,
true fun,
true-maturity,
true wisdom,
and true spirituality.
True poetry; deeply translate its true expression to the readers,
providing an unusual mutual extension which connects and familiarize its profuse massages to the reader.
True poetry has great powers of profundity
and unadulterated knowledge.
I keep hearing the saying; ‘plenty poetry lay in the graveyards'
but I don't give into that, because;
true poetry is like a moving destiny, its never lost or buried away.
No matter how beautifully engraved the grave is;
it must surely resurrect and be discovered in another creative beloved beholder.
True poetry never rest in tombs,
that's why it continuously itch thumbs and tongues until it is spoken or wittingly actualized.
True poetry, never frustrates a reader,
It's an excise which lustrates the brain and feelings.
Even if a poetry tries to depict political damnation, poverty, heartbreak, dearth/death, illness, or hunger,
it should always portray wondrous lesson or a revival mission.
True poetry makes you everything you want to be.
you can surely write your life the way you want it to be,
because your destiny is in your true poetry.
poem by King Femi Oloidi
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A Poet Loses His Power For Poetry
A POET LOSES HIS POWER FOR POETRY
A poet loses his power for poetry
He can put down words
But they no longer have poetry in them
Something of the feeling of what real poetry is
is gone.
He strives
He writes again and again
He puts words down in the forms and in the shapes his poems usually take
But he has no poetry in him
He has lost what he is
And all he can do
is strive again and again
Word after word
Silence after silence
To hear within himself again
A voice he does not have.
The poet is writing poetry
And it is not poetry
The poet is dead
And he is pretending to be alive
Is this a poem?
Is he a poet
Is he dead?
Is he alive?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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