mozart's piano concerto 26 in D

what you do not know is that when i write a poem
i have mozart's piano music behind my mind
for instance take this one,
what is the plan? what is the theme of this one?
i am focused on the notes of beethoven
running wildly on the screen
of this computer
which of course, you may conclude, like an ordinary mortal,
that these notes somehow cannot be seen
running and running as they seem to be
for they are just in the imagination of my mind
like this poem
what do you think is this all about?
is this going to be about something
as you
and all of you would like to have,
a poem in utility like your car that finds significance only
for as long as it starts to run
like your tissue that you take without so much fuss
when you sneeze and you need it badly to cover your mouth?
this poem is not about it
it is simply a musical piece that plays itself
stays in the middle of your thoughts
fertilizes your imagination
and yet fruitlessly, it merely passes in your mind
and then stops
and then you say, it is not like my car, not like my tissue

just this one: nothing at all for use, but for time to let it pass itself,
to survive the stagnancy of your hours

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A Poem Is Just A Poem

a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem

a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about

anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's

poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be

a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice

thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist

on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,

need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem

it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so

this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.

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This is a poem....

This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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This Poem

THIS POEM

This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.

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Scribbler's Stymie

Pen and paper in sight
I've got no poem to write

Staying up all night
I've got no poem to write

Although my mind is bright
I've got no poem to write

It's windy out tonight, should I go fly a kite?
I've got no poem to write

My ceiling, it is white
I've got no poem to write

It's 4: 59! Five, but not quite
I've got no poem to write

In your arms I'd feel so light
I've got no poem to write

I've had no sleep tonight
I've got no poem to write

Will you just hold me tight?
I've got no poem to write

Outside it's almost light
I've got no poem to write

It's late, off goes my light
I've got no poem to write

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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been

THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN

The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.

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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

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Waiting And Wanting To Write Something Else

WAITING AND WANTING TO WRITE SOMETHING ELSE

Waiting and wanting to write something else
The spirit of poetry comes to me
It does not say a specific subject or theme
It has no meaning in mind for itself
But it sings in me
It calls to me
It says ‘now you have the music- let it flow’
And I write it down now
Not as if it is my poem or your poem or anyone’s poem
But only words which God is kind enough to give me
As God has given me so much else which I can be grateful for
A poem to You then
Who have so many poems
And need not my poem
Thank You God My Father.

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There Is A Poem Which Is Not A Poem

THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM

There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
Its heart is too much in thought.
It does not sing us to somewhere else.

There is a poem which is not a poem
Prosaic confessional flat,
Its says its single thing from the soul
And leaves the page without implication.

How many such poems have I written
As I write this one now?

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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.

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Dunderhead

you upset my equilibrium
i said, i had a poem running
through my head

a poem of such sublime beauty
it was full of promises yet to
come

now it, s gone you dunderhead
you walking sack of broken tracks
derailing me like this

when a poem runs in my head
writing it, s self
with in my mind

mercily i have aked you time
after time speak not one word
untill ive sat

for a poem is flying in my
mind ready to be thought
now its gone gone

you you dunderhead.

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A poem for you...

I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you


Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka

Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam

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A Not a Poem Poem

A Not a Poem Poem

I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!

I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!

Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!

Can I write a poem?
NO!

Will I write a poem?
NO!

Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!

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Poem After Poem After Poem

POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM

Poem after poem after poem
But a poem is not the way out.
Money is depleting
Soon I’ll be without.

How will I manage to live then
What will become of us all?
To write a poem is to do nothing
When the writing is on the wall.

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A Poem Writes Itself

A poem writes itself
I merely follow
As it leads me
through the shadows

A poem seeks itself
And the light
I'll surrender …I write

A poem finds a way to be heard-
I try to remember each word from my
mouth to my ears to my hands
Then, to the world's

A poem finds a voice
I become, pen and paper

A poem makes a choice
I, the ghostwriter

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How the poem is treated by you

My instruction is very simple
Take the poem and read it
Casually in your room, do not
Force yourself to understand it
Just read it and tell me what
You feel,
Be kind to the poem
Like inviting it for tea
With just the two of you
As you sip
Let the poem drift like
A cloud and let it take
Its shape
Be compassionate to the poem
Let is cry for itself
If it settles for tears
And all you can do is
Just wipe its face
With your handkerchief

But you are cruel and so
Indifferent, you slap the
Poem with your right hand
And tell it straight
That you do not like it
That way it has successfully
Puzzled you
Then you leave the poem in
The rest room
It feels that it is a tissue
Paper fit for something
So ordinary waiting for
What others usually do
Wipe their anus after
A poo.

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Revolution

My poem is a
Revolution for the poem.
My poem is to accept.
My poem is to socialised.
My poem is straight
And accept all.
My poem is flexible
And in the mind
of the people.
My poem is to enjoy.
My poem is a sacred code
You are but to aboard.

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A Poem Just For You

Today I decided to write a poem just for you
So I sat down with pen in hand, and began to
Carefully consider in which way I could express to you
All the things you mean to me,

First I thought to write a poem about your radiant smile,
All about how you easily outshine the sun.
Or perhaps a poem about our friendship,
All about the kind things you do that fill my heart.
A poem about how grateful I am to have you in my life
All about how I thank God every day for putting you here.

But I decided to write this poem on something else
All about something that is a poem in itself
A poem that simply says I love you
A poem just for you.

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I Lost The Poem I Wrote In My Mind

I LOST THE POEM I WROTE IN MIND

I lost the poem I wrote in my mind
When walking to Shul this morning-
I can only try to recall its thoughts;
‘Walk too fast and the mind cannot hear itself
Walk slowly and listen to the poem inside yourself.
The road ahead the trees the sky
Has a beauty too great for you to write
Thank God for your sight.”

The best lines are forever gone-
A poem to replace a poem
Is not as good as the original-
I wish I had the words for all the beauty God gives me in my life
How wonderful it is to be alive- sometimes
And to be able to write poems – even if somewhat poorly.

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