On The Other Side Of This Equation
beyond poetry
do not think of something
deep and mysterious
it is this ordinariness of our
everyday life
that comes after
i am finished with the last
poem for tonight
i will be watching the evening news
as i sit on an old hard wood
chair reserved just for me
as i start opening my plate
and wipe my spoon and fork
with this soft white cloth
on a menu of soft rice and
unsalted fish and green
leafy ferns heavily spiced
with onion and red ripe tomatoes
beyond poetry is this eating
this dinner and this listening
to the happenings of events
around us, this comments of
tsk tsk tsk
and u huh. and what the hell
is happening to this country?
this waste of lives and waste
of so much time on matters
of injustice and defrauding
and blinding and shutting
and shouting and shooting
after this dinner i may read
some poems again and even
write some more, but it is
getting late, and the door
is locked and the windows
are all closed and the wind
has come with a stronger rain
earlier this time, i have decided
to sleep and stop minding what
is happening to my surrounding.
beyond poetry, too, is rest.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
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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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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Curia
Say poetry
in a must,
in a quick,
Time won’t tell,
You must tell.
No time to rest
Or to waste,
Not to haste
Poetry must.
Curia this is, you say
Why now.
The matter of curia
Or say poetry must.
What’s poetry?
Like a must do say.
What’s poetry?
To get furia.
What’s poetry?
Say it, not waste.
A cast to not know
Waste for me to blow.
What’s poetry?
Opposed is to curia.
Then no choice but furia
Opposed to not know.
poem by Deepta Protik Osman
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Drunk On Poetry
Poetry surges steadily
Through my veins
I grant it to stream through them
Day in and day out
Sleep and awake
I believe it's a healthy obsession
I get drunk on it
The more I inject in me
My mind thrives on poetry
My soul thrives on poetry
I become addicted
Sometimes I absorb too much poetry
Reading, writing and listening
I become drunk sometimes
Poetry spills from my pen
Inking a piece of paper
And unto another and another
Constantly on every thought
Humorous, emotionally, romantic, tragic
Experiencing in life
Opinionated, factual, abstract
Political, any subject that's on my thoughts
Sometimes I become drunk
The more i inject into me
Poetry I live for
Eat, drink, sleep
Racing through my spirit
Poetry, poetry, poetry
I loose myself sometimes
When I digest too much
Poems that I write
I write for me
I share them with the world
I can't resist this urge
Poetry is what I crave
It happens to be my mistress
I become drunk
The more I inject
My mind thrives on poetry
My soul thrives on poetry
I become so addicted
Breathing in too much poetry
Reading, writing, listening
I'm drunk sometimes
Poetry I write
Write from experience
What I've done
What I've heard
What I've seen
What I've felt
What I've known
Poetry I live for
Eating, drinking, sleeping
Racing through my spirit
Poetry, poetry, poetry
On my thoughts poetry
Loosing myself sometimes
When I inject enough
This is what I've become
A drunken poet
poem by R.K. Cowles
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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!
Prosody?
Prosody:
it’s about - it means - what poetry does,
and how. I guess..
In Greek, it just means ‘tune’. That
should give a clue. In Latin,
the word they used meant
‘song added to speech’.
So ‘poetry’ is pretty well
indefinable. It’s – well—
whatever it means to you.
And how the hell it does that. There
are rules but,
it finds its own. For
one thing above all
really matters: poetry is
what it does. What it does. If
it doesn't do anything for you
that's it. No theories –
just that. Be glad.
Aristotle tried to help
with his ‘Poetics’. Good on drama.
But poetry? Let’s fast forward to
Ezra Pound: poetry’s function is, he said,
‘to charge words with meaning
to the utmost possible degree’.
Now put all this together and
I believe it’s saying,
poetry’s not - never was -
shouldn’t be - couldn’t be -
just words on the page, like this, but, it's
me saying them to you, strongly, here and now,
charging them with meaning
to the utmost possible degree..
So if your child comes home with
as homework, ‘Analyse this poem by..’
- Angelou, Silverstein, Neruda,
Hughes of both hues black and white,
Milligan, Budowski, Pralutsky –
tell them, go back tomorrow and say
politely, ‘Teach, Dad’s a practising poet and
he says, why not have a class comp in
reading that poem aloud, and who
makes most sense of it and keeps us
listening down to the
tips of our toes; and by the time
we’ve all had a go and decided
who’s the best, we’ll remember it
for the rest of our lives and maybe, Teach,
not need to ‘analyse’ it much and
only after that? '
So here’s to the next poem
that you read aloud, or write to read aloud,
charging it with meaning
to the utmost possible degree.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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Poetry Unlimited
Poetry is looking,
at a flower and,
seeing the beauty
hidden within.
Poetry is bringing
out love, deep in
your heart, telling
your love one how you feel.
Poetry is feeling
a cool breeze
as you lie in an open
field, so deep in thought.
Poetry is seeing
the beauty of soft
fluffy white clouds
as no one else does.
Poetry is hearing
sounds of nature
soaking it all in
to mind and soul.
Poetry is watching and
standing by river's edge
seeing rippling water
flowing to places unknown.
Poetry is gazing at
rolling hills stretching
as far, as the eye
can see.
Poetry is digging
deep into inter feelings
bringing it out
and exposing it.
Poetry is love
Poetry is feelings
Poetry is seeing
Poetry is what you are.
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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A Micro And Macro Poetry Feast!
Poets are the cooks who concoct delicious poetry for all.
Break fast, lunch, tiffin and dinner are the meals of a day;
But there are also drinks, snacks and buffets for feasts.
So, zealous poets have taste for micro and macro poetry.
Pups, samosa or cutlet are Haiku, Tanka or cameo poems;
Sonnet, romantic, classic poetry are breakfast, lunch, dinner!
Modern poetry is snacks, big or small Mac at anytime of day!
Blank verse or free verse is the variety of cakes and breads!
Micro and macro poetry are the tiffin and grand dinner feasts
People enjoy everywhere in the world at anytime of the year!
Taste and style of the feast depends in the presentation of chef,
The master cook of poetry who decides the fete from start to end!
In the menu of literary feast poetry item overwhelms all others
By micro and macro forms in message and music to satisfy all!
poem by Ramesh T A
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~ O' Poetry I Read I Write ~
~ O' POETRY I READ I WRITE ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
29 December,2009.
Poetry ~
I read I read I read
Without asking,
Knowing why?
Poetry ~
I write I write I write
Without asking,
Knowing why?
O' Poetry ~
Read n’ write
To share
Dare n’ bare,
Don’t care
Love to dye
By
Hi and fie.
.
O' Poetry ~
Life I buy
Never sell bye bye
All I’ll do until I die
Lo! I’m no hi-fi.
----
Copyright reserved by the author
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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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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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
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The empty evenings are the most difficult (in answer to Mandi Engelbrecht)
The empty evenings are the most difficult
when alone I write poems,
when I sometimes listen to Classic Fm
while I have got nothing to do,
the two old people
go to bed when darkness comes
and we say our prayers,
at times they insist
that I watch a religious DVD with them
and they talk about the news
and newspaper reports
but much too soon the evening is past
and the cocker spaniel
looks at me with her dark eyes
while the Persian cat goes outside to hunt,
and I read poems of some English friends
one after the other.
I am still searching for a job
which circles out wider,
almost away from me
while I spent my spare time
on what I can find in the library
on poetry of some great poets,
to teach myself techniques, methods, style,
and to find ideas
and it's as if the wide world
waits upon my new poems
and sometimes I mow the lawn,
and help here and there in the garden,
see the flock of sparrows,
weavers and doves coming near,
and I dare poems to repair my country,
my world, to tell people
who can make a difference
about the things happening here
and my days and nights are empty without you
but our relationship went to hell
by your own choice
and I have got a new mistress
whose name is poetry
and she is a whimsical lover
who serves others much better
before she visits me at night,
to share my pain, my sorrow and memories
and most of the time I try to know her better,
to know the rhythm, the methods of her existence,
to find that which makes her great
and one after the other my days pass,
while I wonder when things are going to change,
while I try day after day to survive
and I know that I cannot hold on to the past
and I know
that I can write almost any kind of poem
and still at times I wonder
what is happening far away in your world?
[Reference: "‘n dood gewone vrou" (an ordinary woman) by Mandi Engelbrecht.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Making Poetry
Why did I make a poem?
It's more than you can imagine
It's not about black or white
Because the power of poetry that I'm dumbfounded
Look at the whole Bible, everything is poetry {not, but a holy book down from Allah is the truth}
Abstract ideas of science are all from the poem
Idealism actual human life is poetry
I'm just trying to be honest...
Creating poetry for me is more than anything
Not me want to be Jesus or Muhammad {but imitate their pious}
But I do not know what my purpose {paradise}
Only the most important is to produce poetry
I just write from the unreal world
Introduce something to people here
Are they willing to accept it or not does not matter
Since the poetry of the poem is the image of eternity
Who continue to fly and only revealed to the seeker
Poetry for me is more important than life
More important than my beloved
More important than my brother
Because the poem can represent any
Why did I make a poem?
When you reject the poem in your life
It has a form of poem to poem
Actually you can not escape from poetry
But you did not realize it, be aware of?
Indeed the poem is really real
Do you not believe how strong poetry
Look at all the countries in the world today
All poems must have an ideology
Ideology of all States is poetry
Do you still deny its power?
From now on, deep down consider
The poem is more than just blank words without the influence
(30 April 2002)
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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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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A Revolution Poetry Is....!
Are you writing words of rhythm according to thoughts?
Or are you coining words of thoughts according to rhythm?
Or are you writing poetry both working at the same time?
Asking so, if they ask me how to write poetry, what shall I say?
Poetry writing is natural, spontaneous expression from heart!
How can this be taught to anyone to write poetry ever at all?
Poetry is a spontaneous flow of words direct from heart ever!
I wonder many a time how am I writing poetry at all ever!
But this is happening to my great surprise since longtime!
Due to engagements ever poetry only I am able to write
Though my aim in the beginning was writing stories.....,
Novels, short stories and nonfiction articles of criticism!
Poetry books too I have completed writing so since long
But what a pity there is no reception for poetry books...!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Multitasking, The Music And The Poem And Nothing
as i write this poem i am downloading music
copying them from the cd to
Windows Media Player for all these Bossa Nova Experience
Call me, A certain Sadness, The Trouble with Hello
The Shadow of Your Smile, Fly Me To the Moon,
NighT aND dAY, hEY lOOK aT tHE sun, HeRE'S a RAiny Day,
Put a LIttle Love Away,
Where is Love?
it takes time to choose the music to load and to check
if everything is proper and so
i also take a glance at poems
the First Fifty Famous Poems of this World
read some again
reviewing how does each word feel and fall and rebound in my
heart
i write some, well, i am not that really serious about what to write
i just write what comes to my head and when i think i ended
the making of this poem
i read what others write, not really admiring their wisdom
or style or what they write there as some trash
garbage, but just the same to while my hours away doing other things
i still read them, building this interest to know what this person who claims to
be a poet is driving at
some nails for hard wood, sounding like carpentry
well, i don't really believe that poetry can change this world
my world
of multitasking, hopping from one task to another, like
island hopping with my friends in this archepielago
from one white sand to another and taking some beers and
juices
these juices of the mind and of the body, lustily flowing from my thighs
as i wipe them and learn to live a pure life
from the perspective of the Holy Pope, oh well, i don't judge other people
and i simply forgive them
like myself, i am not so hard about myself, not even on poetry
since this is just fun
clean fun, writing
opps, another cd to copy now,
i will have
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, Paper Mache, Make it Easy on Yourself,
vINCENT, . Breaking Up is Hard with You, All the THINGS you ARe,
LIGHT My FIRE, Love is STRONGER far than WE
and CHopin and bEETHOVEN, AND iL dIVO
AND
AND OF course,
I honestly lOVE you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Know There Are Other Kinds Of Poetry
I know there are other kinds of Poetry-
I know for many a confession cannot be a poem-
But for me my confession is my poem
And my writing what I most intensely think and feel
And need to say-
It may not be Poetry for you
And it may not speak to you at all,
I don't want you to waste your time
With what is meaningless for you-
But if the poetry of Confession
And mine in particular
Can be poetry for you,
Thank you for giving my lines
Some time and attention.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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