S7
early morning eyes
fresh from their dreams
the mind recalls
the heart confirms
all the emotions still contained
vivid images in technicolor
the hands summon the fingers
write, write, write
strike while the iron is hot
cliche, cliche
now the thoughts rush like a flood
from the forest mountains
the fingers are adept at all these
one with the mind and heart
and so here we are again
slaves of our art
redeemed risen anew
maybe still cold and perhaps even frozen
thaw
melt only to be solidified again when the sun comes
irony of the mind
paradoxes of the heart
listen
to you i am saying nothing
it is for me
in the labyrinths of my confusions i am trying to find my way out
trapped fly in a bottle
buzzing for its wish for freedom
genie
wanting someone to rub its ancient lamp
if you let me free
you may have four wishes
and that is not just a promise
it is a contract
morning thoughts
tunnels without end lights yet
there is yet no exit
and so you still find me here in my own shadow
fog and mist
trails filled with tall grasses
up there is the house of my intentions
a figure waits but i do not know yet who
surprises surprises
anticipations of life
these are all the reasons
hazy as a refraction of light bending upon a glassy vision
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Do You Really Find It Hard To Write A Poem?
let me tell you
it is not hard to write the poems in your mind
they are already there in the first place
inside your heart
always wanting to be written
all you need is just your way of waking your fingers in deep sleep
let them be
let them write the words
at the tip of your fingers
let the words speak for themselves
do not intervene
let them be
let the emotions dance like the wind
let the thoughts trickle like the rain
let them be
follow the river as it winds along the banks of your feelings
then watch
how all the waters of your self fall like
a water fall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Little Merman (Fun Poem 51)
Just beyond the reef
where the little fishes swim
there lives a little merman
and his name is Gunga Din.
He frolics in the ocean
from morning to night,
playing with the mermaids
is his hearts delight.
One day while playing
on the ocean floor
Gunga din found a bottle
with a Genie trapped within.
He opened the bottle
and set the Genie free.
The Genie then said to him.
“Three wishes I now grant to thee.”
“Three wishes? What are those? ”
Gunga Din asked the Genie.
“Wishes are made
for anything you want,
and then I will make them come true.”
“But I have no need for wishes.
I have everything my heart desires.”
“But surely there is something
that you would like most of all? ”
Gunga Din shook his head.
“There is nothing I require.”
“Nothing? ” Asked the Genie.
“Nothing.” Gunga Din replied.
“You see Mr Genie
I have everything I need.
I am completely satisfied
with everything I have got.”
“The oceans are my gardens
to play around all day within.
I have plenty of friends
to keep me company.
So what do I need your wishes for?
I have everything I’ll ever need.”
“But I must grant you three wishes
for setting me free
and If you won’t take the wishes
I cannot be free.“
Gunga thought for a moment.
This cannot be right.
Everyone must be free
to do as they wish.
“Get back in the bottle, Mr Genie.
I’ll take you to some distant sandy shore.
I’ll put you on the beach
for someone to find.
I’m sure in that greedy world out there,
that there is someone
who will take up your wishes
and set you free.
28 December 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why I Write?
When indelible memories of the past,
Torment my heart and mind; I write.
When mist floats in front of the eyes,
The light comes from behind; I write.
When the men of the callous world,
Compel me to be confined; I write.
When my heart weeps wailing upon
The wise being led by the blind; I write.
When in self schemed distribution I see
The deserving limping behind; I write.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Song About You
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You’re all I can every think about
How you flood my dreams each night
How thinking of you takes my breath away
When I look up to the satellites
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
The long lost butterflies returned
How I hope my number you’ll dial
And how your memory smothers me with smiles
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You were the only one
Who had enough of me to break my heart
And when love took over my heart
You tore it all apart.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
I gave you my heart
Caught up in the thought
That we were off to a great start
But how you threw a damn dart
Right into the center of my heart
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
About how you crushed my heart
Not bothering to look back.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
poem by Jess Schwarcz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Special Valentine
Special Valentine
I wake up early in the morning
Before the break of day,
Nothing on my mind but to write to you
Today:
As thoughts come to mind,
Rita has her time, needs a word or two
A Valentine.
The rose I give to you today indicates
My thoughts of you, as I speak from
Within my heart.
Forgive me as I write as I was taught
A poet I am ~ A scholar not.
Written by Charles Garcia
Feb.2,2006
poem by Charles Garcia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Need to Write
I need to write a poem, but how shall I do it,
First of all shall I write standing up, or just sit;
Until I get comfortable, I won't be able to start,
All the words will be muddled up, and then it'll fall. Apart.
Now! I got it right, I will choose the title to write about,
No good getting frustrated, or even sit or pout;
Just need to relax, and then the words will come easy,
Cause if I try to hard, Then my stomach will feel queasy.
I know what sort of holiday would people like,
And as I start the poem, the hall clock did strike;
Oh! It is now is what I can do, write about the time passing,
And so I have the heading, the thoughts on paper lasting.
It's got colour, size, And description, and the taste of art,
It's come from my mind, emotions, and also from the heart;
It has vision, and thoughts about where I want to go,
Yes! I think it'll get some to agree, to me they'll show.
So if you have a problem to write a poem or story,
Just read this poem, as a help, it's a help from me;
Don't force the idea, or rush it through at all,
Just go have a cuppa, read an article or a friend call.
Eventually it'll come, the words will flow along,
You might even end up, turning it into a song;
Writing poems will be rewarding, just give a go,
And you might enjoy it, they may end up in a show.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thinking
I think and think
and every single thought
comes into my mind
as if it were caught
in a spidery web
that sticks like glue
until that thought
is finally through.
Some thoughts are happy
and they are most welcome.
Some thoughts are sad
and then I'm overrun
with tears that fill my eyes
like a pool.
I cry out these thoughts,
my number one rule.
For to hold back my tears
and not let them flow
would drown my thinking
and where would they go?
Into a whirlpool
that circles around
making my demeanor
take me down?
No, I say.
Pick up your pen.
Write those thoughts
and say amen.
Read them aloud
for they're now on a page,
not trapped in my mind
like a bird in a cage.
Freedom, freedom
my mind is free.
Oh how rewarding
that can be.
Enjoy it I say
for it won't last long
for I think and I think
as my life moves along.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Little Mermaid (Fun Poem 81)
For Meggie who suggested I write this.
Deep in the oceans
where the little fishes play
there lives a little mermaid
and her name is Haveagayday.
She is not sure how she got her name,
but it is her name no less,
it might have been her mother
who helped a fisherman in distress.
One day Haveagayday was playing
with her friend a little merman named Gunga Din.
While they played Bubbles, a moaning Clam
came floating by on his way.
He stopped for a moan
that could never be alone.
He said he couldn’t find a soft spot of sand to bury himself in.
Now Haveagayday and Gunga Din suggested
he go to some sandy beach
where the blue waters lap gently to the shore.
There in the golden sand
he could be on his own all day long.
Bubbles blew some more bubbles
and quickly whooshed away
leaving the little mermaid and merman
to continue with their play.
Several days later while playing near that spot
they met up with the moaning clam,
old Bubbles again.
“You said it would be quiet
in that place in the sun,
that I would have all the peace and quite I wanted.
Well you were wrong
with all those noisy surfers
all trying to crack my shell.”
Haveagayday and Gunga Din thought
about what they could do.
Then Gunga Din remembered
about his Genie friend.
If his bottle were still on the beach,
his three wishes would help Bubbles
get his peace and quiet.
Haveagayday and Gunga Din swam off
to find the Genie in the bottle
if he was still on the beach.
They found the beach
where Gunga Din had put the bottle.
They searched along the beach
hoping the bottle hadn’t been found.
Finally, they found the bottle
and Gunga Din pulled the cork
and set the Genie free.
The Genie came out in a puff of smoke.
“I have three wishes to grant thee.”
“I know Mr Genie and I’ll have those wishes
for you to grant to me.”
“Tell me what your wishes are
and I will make them come true.”
“We have a friend named Bubbles
who wants a quiet beach to live.”
“Granted.” The Genie said.
“My second wish is that Bubbles
has a friendly mate f
or when the loneliness gets too much.”
The Genie smiled and clicked his fingers
and the wish was done.
“You have one more wish. Do you want it now? ”
“Oh, yes please.”
“I have a friend who is a Genie
whom would like to be free.
My third wish is then that you set my Genie free
for now and ever more.”
The Genie snapped his fingers.
“Your wish has been granted.”
He then looked at Gunga Din.
“You know you wasted that last wish.
You could have kept it for something your heart desired.”
“But I did Genie. My wish for your freedom
was my hearts desire.
That you be, free forever more.”
Haveagayday and Gunga Din got married
later on that year.
The Best man at their wedding
was the Genie whom he set free.
Also at the Wedding
were Bubbles and his bride to be Cuddles.
Now they all live happily together
Haveagayday, Gunga Din, Bubbles, Cuddles
and of course the Genie
under the deep blue sea.
24-25 June 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunlight on white paint. For the New Year.
The house across the way is newly painted white.
Right now, that’s all my being seems to need:
this winter morning, sharp, cold, bright and clear,
the morning sunlight pours across white paint;
contains a thousand messages, in me
interpreted.. or simply left to be..
this moment, that’s as much as being craves:
this morning’s glory; and I, born for praise..
even as I write, I watch the sun’s
white paint brush move across the house’s front
and tell the eye of reason that this world
is turning, basking, in this morning sun;
already sparkling on the Bondi waves
as if the world had just been washed anew;
cast early dawn’s pearl light on Taj Mahal
as if the sun itself could never tire of beauty;
Italian villa forecourts just hosed down,
the air all fresh to meet the warming day;
the gardens of Carmel, eight hours from now,
will paint their flowers fresh with mist and dew;
as every carefree holiday yourself
recall, as proof eternal of pure soul..
and here - the witness of my silent mind
needs nothing, need go nowhere else to find
its very self, this moment without taint:
immortal sunlight shining on white paint.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Always There Will Be Something To Write
for as long as the grain of sand is in the mouth
of the mother pearl so there will be pearls
it is the pain that makes it
it is the wound that makes the scar
it is the blur that makes the eyes
work hard to see
it is the haze and the mist
that make us stand and wait and carefully see
to find what is there
when the light of the sun finally comes
it is what is inside me
that i cannot just tell you
that makes me write
and for as long as i am muted by your presence
i will always have something to write
for as long as my tongue is tied
and nothing slips from there
i will always write
because there is no other outlet
no vent
for as long as i fear your wrath
i must continue to write
from the bondage of my teeth and tongue
my hands and mind
shall find its way to freedom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mind vs. Heart
Mind: It's too early
Heart: The timing's right
Mind: Do you really want to ruin your freindship?
Heart: I'll take a chance
Mind: You don'y really love him that much
Heart: I love him enough
Mind: He's too old for you
Heart: Time matters not compared to love
Mind: You haven't known each other very long
Heart: It was love at first write
Mind: Are you prepared to let yourself get your heart broken...again?
Heart: ....He's worth the pain
Mind: Are you ready?
Heart: Yes...Are you?
poem by Courtney Wills
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Poets Of Many Types
Indeed they are so many types of poets, and of the poets I would not say anyone is more important then the other.
For the readers each have their desired tastes.
So they're most certainly should beware upon opening the page.
Cause dangers do lurk, some quite perverse.
While others seem to insult either the heart or mind.
The poet didn't write it for you specifically in mind.
But instead just to describe his feelings at the time.
Whether be with his eyes in sight, his nose in smell, his fingers in touch, his ears in sound, and some would say his mind and heart with emotions.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Morning thoughts
Morning thoughts
~
A sun rises over roof tops
Greeting the cold morning air
A wind blows heavy, swaying trees
The branches stripped bare by winter
The world is slowly waking
And the picture beyond my window
Emerges to life once more
I lay motionless in silence
Nursing warm coffee in my hands
Early thoughts begin to stir
My pen yet to be put to paper
I think back to dreams
The night passed what they brought
I think to the day ahead
What will it bring
Thoughts of love and romance
What could I write of them
I watch a world waking
A sun rising over rooftops
And I listen to my thoughts
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Thing On My Mind
Four o'clock in the morning
My mind's filled with a thousand thoughts of you
And how you left without warning
But looking back I'm sure you tried to talk it thorugh
Now I see it so clearly
We're together but living seperate lives
So I wanna tell you I'm sorry
Baby I can't find the words
But if I could, then you know I would, yeah yeah
No I won't let go, know what we can be
I won't watch my life, crashing down on me
Guess I had it all, right there before my eyes, yea
(Girl) I'm sorry now, you were the last thing on my mind
You carried me like a river
How far we've come still surprises me
And now I look in the mirror
Staring back is a man I used to be, with you
How I long for you, yea
No I won't let go, know what we can be
I won't watch my life, crashing down on me
Guess I had it all, right there before my eyes, yea
Oh I'm sorry now, you were the last thing on my mind
Girl I'm sorry I was wrong
could have been there
Should have been so strong
So I'm sorry
No I won't let go, know what we can be
I won't watch my live, crashing down on me
Guess I had it all, right there before my eyes, yea
(Girl) I'm sorry now, you were the last thing on my mind
I won't watch my life, crashing down on me
Guess I had it all, right there before my eyes, yea
(Girl) I'm sorry now, you were the last thing on my mind
On my mind
On my mind
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only In My Mind
thoughts fire
mind blaze
run on wind
words sing mind melodies
words sing song new images
dance in heart veins flow
words shape shift
into new thoughts
concepts poems
several are written
in time heart beats
wonder stirs anew
but only in my mind
where the beauty sings
sung sight meditation
no words given unto paper
no words processed on light screen
no words kept mind record
dart of honeybird flight
bats fly sonar night vision
wing beats of wonder
words released born free
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My Alphabet Poem
day is hot
sittng on my swivel chair
trying to chase
wild ideas
to describe what i feel
yet i cannot
fsthom what is within
i stared on the mute keyboard
that seems to look at me
with blind eyes
i saw the W and the I
and i thought of something wild..
wild dreams perhaps?
or weird nights when
angels chased demons
floating on black clouds
my mind set no way so i look at the T
and the H and i thought
of thine shall i wrote about her?
but my memries of her lost charms
seems to fade into morning disaster
so it was no deal
and i looked at the M and the E
and i thought of Me but then
what shall i write about myself
when i do not even know the real me.
and i gaze at the L and of the O
and i said maybe i can write
about love but then my heart is hollow
deep within my emotions
were all bottled up
thrown in deep labyrinth
there is no way i can do it
and then there was the P and i had the C
should i write about peace? but then
there is a great war brewing
between my mind and my heart
it is so hard to make desicions when
your mind refuse the decisions of the heart
and the heart do not folow
what the mind says it got to be
and yes i lokked at the? ? ?
and so will i question God or man?
the answers are not within
the hearts minds and souls of
uncaring man and
God sees the truth but waith until when?
when stars never shines
and flowers never bloom
and yeah i glance at the....
and i thought of the end
of the endless life on crazy
but beautiful world
and i said let me end this weird poem
created by the weird mind
of a weird poet like me
less i bored you till the end....
......
....
...
i am done with my alphabet poem
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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Passion Grows Here
she had been dead until now
oh, who knew what could grow here
under cement and cold ashes
so thick like snow
oh, who knew what passion could be there
in a heart as cold as stone
who knew what looks of vulnerability lie
behind glassy eyes
behind kind and knotted hands
oh, who knew the song of her heart
everyone knows the song
the song of life
it grows in us
when we are most unaware of it
and springs forth upon us when we don't expect
but when we are ready
and oh, are we ready
look at how many places there are to go
look at all of our brothers and sisters here in this place
write
write
know it
you know it
it cannot be contained
it is life itself
everyone has the song
oh, everyone knows this song
poem by Ms. Queenie
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