Poetry Is Not Just Feelings
i have long said
that there is no definition to poetry
it is
sui generis, a class of its own,
a evolution of meanings and a transfiguration of words
into substances beyond
the limitations of our minds,
if you say that poetry is feelings
what is then
those that we have not even felt and yet
strikes us as
poetic?
an enlightenment for instance
a divine revelation handed in a dream
in the form of metaphors
what about those that strike us
like a red wheelbarrow glazed with the rain
beside those white chickens?
what about those live frogs in the imaginary gardens
of our minds?
what about a new philosophy of life?
or the promiscuity of the glands?
there are no boxes that can contain all these
in one container
let the poem be just a river
going anywhere
let it just be the sea taking us anywhere
let it be the waves
to and fro arriving everywhere
or what? you name it, you 'll have it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
A Spirit Of Poetry!
when a spirit of poetry decent,
it came
In a form of dove
When it came
Jesus became first poet under sun
And Almighty God
Was already, first poet over sun?
Using Poetry in poetic foam
Almighty GOD spoke through poetry
And he is a poet himself
Now his poetry is everywhere, and anywhere
We interact with poets
Words are like soil, are everywhere
Brighter that Sun
His poetic lights lead the way
When he likes
He will come
He will be in poetic foam
To Re-arrange poems
Schedule them in a poetic manner
On a judgment, He will met poets first
And secondly meet
Those who haven't written a poem
To Discuss similes, metaphors and personifications
Future of poetry is in heaven
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Poetry is nature
Poetry is nature,
Poetry is revelation,
Poetry is human,
Poetry is divine.
Unveiling the countrified encounters,
the evolution of the cockroach
and the mythical cactus on the arid
the front and the end;
breaking open the activities
into nature.
The words in the ink
linking present and past
to forecast the prerequisite future.
The revealed talks of the heartbeats
and restoration of tensed souls.
Poetry is nature,
Poetry is expression,
Poetry is in man,
Poetry is divine.
poem by Oyehan Opeyemi Akinkunmi
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Poetry Undefined
Poetry is a great many things
to each poet you see,
Poetry even has various meanings
as to what it is to me
Overall,
Poetry is the means
By which my heart communicates,
My mind finds the words
For these feelings and translates
Sometimes,
Poetry is my lover
My fantasies he fulfills
Beckoning me to crisp, white sheets
where my blacks and blues I spill
Or,
Poetry comes as a mysterious moon
appearing softly in the night,
age old secrets of the universe
he reveals to me with his light
See,
Poetry is my spirit
the connection to the Divine,
It lets me see what I am to be,
let’s me soar when I feel confined
So,
Don’t try too hard to define
What poetry really is
Just know that what you get from a poem
Is all a poet had to give
11.25.02
poem by Tamika Stubblefield
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The Paradox Of Poetry
The Paradox of Poetry
Is that every poem contains its own questions-
And that each question it asks
Is answered in another question
Raised from somewhere else-
The paradox of Poetry
Is that its meanings
Cannot be contained by themselves-
And so each paradox too
Bears within it its own ambiguity-
I call this a poem about Poetry
But in Paradox
It is a statement of Love
Which abstract as it is
Lacks poetic feeling
A non- poetic poem
Aspiring to be poetry too-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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18 Definitions Of Poetry
1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Wheelbarrow
a wheelbarrow
is a mere wheelbarrow
even if it is not
red or glazed
with rain water
it is
what it is
just a wheelbarrow
but look beneath
ourselves in the forest of our wanderings
there are trees there
growing in the dampness of darkness
looking for light
a river comes flooding
that is where
meaning sprouts
upsurging emotions
now without walls coming before your fences
a wheelbarrow
is not the same wheelbarrow anymore
emotions
your emotions made it
for not what it is
transmutation
from William to you and this world
looks not familiar
anymore
petals of meanings
red so real
thorns and stalks and dews
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetry To Me
What is poetry to me- it is words of beauty-words of life
Words of love, pain and sacrifice.
Words of showing and growing and needing and feeding
Words of hope and despairs, wanting and cares.
Poetry takes you into the minds of mankind
From days of old to the present time.
Poetry takes you on trips that you've never been before
And opens up every door.
Poetry becomes a longing, a want, a desire, a need
On which your mind must feed.
It becomes a life within itself
And takes you to the heavens and down to hell.
Poetry becomes a flaming desire
And only writing can put out this fire.
I call it my passion while others say it's my obsession
Yet! No matter what they may think or say
Poetry is here to stay.
So many different types of poetry
For the different minds 'you see'.
You will always find one that will give you meaning
From a loving heart to one that's bleeding.
Jump on the bandwagon and take a hold
For with poetry ' life unfolds'.
poem by Louis Rams
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How Ordinary Language Becomes Poetic
do not worry about images
leave it to the wise imagination of the reader
do not insult his powers
of extending the meaning of your ordinary language
beyond what you
are thinking or saying with utmost intention to drive your point
the poetry of indeterminacy
the meanings hidden in such plain words
as wolf and sheep
shepherd to this staff
river to stones
and clouds to rain and rain and rain and rain
and yes the trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrainnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,
do not be too concerned
with form, the form comes and takes the shape desire before your eyes
what i am driving at is that
ordinary language becomes too poetic when
you shake because it is a very cold rain pouring in your roof
and you have no one
and you have no other place to go and you cannot call him because
he is too busy with other
matters of equal importance
i could be him and you could be her, in this ordinary language of
disappointments
why we met and why we regret the meeting and union
oh, why speak about something too poetic when ordinary language
can be so poetic
about pain, and hypocrisy, and mendicancy
of emotions, She herself is one of the few constant
features
on that landscape.
Wary, as always,
of holistic paradigms for the literary history
of poetry
dynamic, interactive condition of experimental poetry today
i cannot think
of any other recommendation,
Christian Boltanski's simulated documentaries,
I cannot think of a better introduction
to contemporary
poetry, this, oh,
so you understand a thing?
alright, how do you do?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Poetry For Me
to speak from your heart
is a true form of art
the poetry
flows vibrantly from me
the emotions that pour out
manifest what i am about
shrouded in metaphor and vagary
look not at the surface, reader be wary
crafting feelings
into tangable meanings
articulating thoughts;
into words they are wrought
conjecturing philosophy,
deciphering life's cryptography
this poetry;
it soothes me
poem by Fleur The Tulip Sniper
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Words of liberation for my nation
Chains of slavery are still over my people.
Notorious minds still over power innocent minds.
What can free the black child, what can free my nation?
I ask in pain and suffering in the dark jail cells,
What can free me from mental slavery?
How to know right from wrong?
How to think free and build a free society?
The solution is in the words of liberation, the words of wisdom.
I write and recite a revolution, my revolution my poetry.
I do n’t need praises or worship but only recognition and understanding of the people to words of liberation, understanding of poetry.
I stand before you to present poetry,
I stand before you to present the words of liberation to my nation.
Poetry that builds, poetry that destroys.
Poetry that destroyed the impious minds of colonists in Rhodesia.
I speak of poetry that built freedom in South Africa.
When I speak of poetry I mean the true meaning of words.
Words of wisdom,
Words of freedom,
Words of liberation,
Words to free my nation.
The words of liberation to my nation
Words of liberation to free my generation
Poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry-poetry.
poem by zimi Nakeni
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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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I sleep Poetry
Last night I wrestled with poetry
As if a lion wrestling with its prey
I sleep poetry
I dream poetry
I walk poetry on thin line ropes
binding together steeply slopes
I make love to poetry like a new catch
On heat waiting to be let loose from its latch
So out of ten if I am bad, take a pen
And give me a score of five or a four
I constantly make love to poetry
With dramatic grammatical metaphors
The root of my poetic hunger
Is I starve myself a bit longer
In sleep I twiddle my poetic lines
Sharpen them to be as fine as a riddle
I sleep poetry
I drink poetry
Not just to quench my thirst
But to differentiate amongst
Good, Better and Best
There shall come the day
I have to say
When I will definitely call it a truce
When I have run out of poetic juice
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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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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Everything In Poetry Is Allowed
everything in poetry is allowed
so much sweat had been wasted
so many words alienated from their own meanings
on the issue of which is true poetry
enough of that
let me state once more that everything in poetry is allowed
whatever is it that comes from your mouth
that slips from your lips
becomes a poem by the intensity of your intention
today my mouth gives birth to bees
and i am telling you a poem is a swarm of bees
like a set of hands spreading some prayers
tonight i shall dream of words escaping from my mouth
i see them as snakes singing
oh, i see, i am telling you a poem is a choir of snakes hissing a song
(do you really imagine that? am i not a little bit
weird?)
i never tire giving birth to words, and images, and metaphors
and a poem never gets weary like the insomniac still not wanting to sleep
oh, i see, you too must have words like these
those that never sleep, you see? what a poem can be?
a poem is a set of sleepless words, smoking at night, looking over the window,
naked, like a very beautiful woman, looking for love.
you want things to make connections? hmm, don't be silly, some connections
do not seem to be
takes time, sometimes, takes even death upon one's self, to see the light.
but don't you worry, whatever is it, becomes a poem by the intensity of your
affections.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetry Is Not Just A Game We Play With Words
POETRY IS NOT JUST A GAME WE PLAY WITH WORDS
Poetry is not just a game we play with words-
There is Beauty-
And there is Meaning-
And there is something beyond
What we have heard before
Music also-
Poetry is not given to final definition
Altered as it is and augmented
by every true new voice -
But then too
Without that play of words
How poetic can the poetry be?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!
THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!
THOSE who misspell
And those who are still coping up
With their metaphors
The techniques
Of rhyme & beat
Those who think
They do not
Know how to
Write poetry
And those
Who fear
What to say
What to write
What the others say
About their poetry
And those that doubt
Their writing
Abilities
Their thoughts
Their feelings
Their feelings
Their feelings
Yes
Yes
Their feelings
Or those who simply
Fear that they may only
Be displeasing
And disappointing
And those whose
Sense of confidence
About this thing
This poetry
This poem thing
Those that still
Hide what they
Feel to what they
Think
Is prose
Those who think that
Their life
Is not worth
Sharing in the
The beat and
Rhyme of poetry
Behold
The mere thought
About life
About a beating heart
The pulse
The eyes that blink
The fingers fidgety
That type the words
Of feelings
Of feelings
Yes
Yes
About feelings
It is all about feelings
The genuine feelings
Of your life
You type them
Each word
To another word
A chain of words
A long chain of words
Like playing the music
To the piano keys
Like strumming
The strings of a
Flamenco guitar
A certain music
A certain beat
To the sound
Of your computer keys
Hear the beat
And the rhyme
Of your computer keys
Each word
To another word
To a chain of words
To a longer chain of words
You are running a chain of feelings
You are chasing a chain of feelings long chained in your hearts wanting to be free
To be free
To be free
Yes
Yes
You, feeling to be free to run free to be all free
Like you were scattering red rose petals to this pedestal
Like you were sprinkling waters to this garden
Like you were splashing waters in the sea
Like you were bathing playing dancing in the rain
Like you were humming a tune to a trek on a hill
Like you were making love with your beloved the whole night
Behold
A poet in you is born
Behold
You are typing
A poem
You are
Feeling
And you are
By all means
Now a poet
I hereby baptize you
With that name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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46
she, too, dislikes it, because it gives her the feeling as though
her head is taken off, makes her body cold so no fire can ever
warm her again. One does not look on poetry as a closed work, the poems go on and on
at all times on one’s head, and snip off a length.
You mush remember the homely definition,
Poetry is the best words in their best order, words in their nth power.
Bony ideas, bloody nerves, held together by the delicate
Tough skin of words…
Words…words...
I agree, I have never started a poem where I know the ending
Always the ending is unpredictable.
Poetry is your personal
Expression making it public, a revelation, a revolution of sort, you throw a pebble to the world.
In essence, poetry is an emotion, said, written in measured motion,
And that motion is an art.
Drip pity, drip pity, drip drip drip drip
Like a dripping rain, from a leaking roof, while one sleeps
To its rhythm.
A wording of highest thoughts, appearing as a
Remembrance, it does not really mean anything, it is simply magical…
But be.
You make a poem, but the reader recognizes it as his own,
But there is no accusation of thievery or plagiarism
A sea animal, evacuating to land, and now wanting to fly in the sky, that is poetry.
Making familiar things rare, as though they are
Not familiar anymore.
Giving habitation to airy nothing.
Giving nothing to everything.
Giving a nobody a nice home like he is now a somebody.
The invisible, made visible, and the visible made invisible.
A quarrel within himself.
In his tranquility, he recollects powerful feelings, and give in
To an spontaneous flow of giving.
That is poetry. Giving, and always giving, no taking, nothing taken.
I, too, dislike it at first.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poets on Poetry: a collage
she, too, dislikes it, because it gives her the feeling as though
her head is taken off, makes her body cold so no fire can ever
warm her again. One does not look on poetry as a closed work, the poems go on and on
at all times on one’s head, and snip off a length.
You mush remember the homely definition,
Poetry is the best words in their best order, words in their nth power.
Bony ideas, bloody nerves, held together by the delicate
Tough skin of words…
Words…words...
I agree, I have never started a poem where I know the ending
Always the ending is unpredictable.
Poetry is your personal
Expression making it public, a revelation, a revolution of sort, you throw a pebble to the world.
In essence, poetry is an emotion, said, written in measured motion,
And that motion is an art.
Drip pity, drip pity, drip drip drip drip
Like a dripping rain, from a leaking roof, while one sleeps
To its rhythm.
A wording of highest thoughts, appearing as a
Remembrance, it does not really mean anything, it is simply magical…
But be.
You make a poem, but the reader recognizes it as his own,
But there is no accusation of thievery or plagiarism
A sea animal, evacuating to land, and now wanting to fly in the sky, that is poetry.
Making familiar things rare, as though they are
Not familiar anymore.
Giving habitation to airy nothing.
Giving nothing to everything.
Giving a nobody a nice home like he is now a somebody.
The invisible, made visible, and the visible made invisible.
A quarrel within himself.
In his tranquility, he recollects powerful feelings, and give in
To an spontaneous flow of giving.
That is poetry. Giving, and always giving, no taking, nothing taken.
I, too, dislike it at first.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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0026 To live in poetry
So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry
as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess
roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue
living in poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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.