Szymborska 's Yearns
'Poets yearn, of course, to be published, read, and understood, but they do little, if anything, to set themselves above the common herd and the daily grind.'
i do not have
the wish anymore
to be understood
by you or anybody
i belong to the
common things
you cannot see
me in the herd
i am in my
daily endeavors
unknown to you
i still write without
any wish that you
recognize my
voice or feel the
longings of my
hands or see the
scars in my heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Poets yearn, of course, to be published, read, and understood, but they do little, if anything, to set themselves above the common herd and the daily grind.
quote by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Man!
i never understood...
the need to be popular,
to be the 'in' thing,
to be cool, to be hip,
never understood the need
for fame...
never waited to be patted
on the back,
never wanted to be followed...
i am what i am!
nothing more, nothing less.
a common man,
with a common heart,
a common soul,
and common hard working hands.
i can honestly say
that i have lived,
i have loved,
i have given past
the point of giving,
i have tried my wings
on countless occasions...
many times i fell,
but a few times i have flown!
i have forgiven,
and asked for forgiveness.
i believe what i believe,
and have stood up in spite of.
i am a man!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXV: Common Thing
It’s not a kindness of heart
It’s not strong solidarity
It’s just a common thing
It’s not local wisdom
It’s not old tradition
It’s just a common thing
It’s not call of duty
It’s not sense of right
It’s just a common thing
It’s not formal greeting
It’s not automatic response
It’s just a common thing
It’s not a matter of guessing
It’s not a part of instinct
It’s just a common thing
It’s not natural reaction
It’s not act of compassion
It’s just a common thing
It’s not regular news
It’s not lack of awareness
It’s just a common thing
It’s not general knowledge
It’s not piece of memory
It’s just a common thing
It’s not statistic range
It’s not operational standard
It’s just a common thing
It’s not moral excuses
It’s not people ignorance
It’s just a common thing
It’s not public secret
It’s not rhetoric question
It’s just a common thing
It’s not different mindset
It’s not basic solution
It’s just a common thing
It’s not absolute law
It’s not blind obedience
It’s just a common thing
It’s not sweet revenge
It’s not getting even
It’s just a common thing
It’s not constant worry
It’s not planted fear
It’s just a common thing
It’s not usual bickering
It’s not daily fight
It’s just a common thing
It’s not die hard habit
It’s not strange behavior
It’s just a common thing
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Hands Of A Teacher
Optimism,
Optimism perished from the face of my earth
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
She kissed me, as we stood on the edge,
The night made the day as we made for the bridge
It started raining hard, and I saw we may live to regret
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Pessimism,
Pessimism perished from the face of my earth,
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
Did you miss me? did you miss me as we walked
Through the pain, attached the chain so you could
See me again
I started asking myself, did I teach you right?
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Understood why...
You came to me, you broke the bonds,
You set me free
And then the love that you promised me
Came a tumblin tumblin tumblin down
Into my hands...
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
So teacher teach me...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Not One to Dissect What's Enjoyed
I made an announcement,
Very early in my life
That I was going to write.
No one understood that appetite,
I had for writing.
No one understood it.
But I had to do it to get it done.
No one understood it.
Neither do I still.
I just write.
With a feeding that delights,
A craving that goes unexplained.
Like a desire to be fulfilled.
And I'm not one to dissect what's enjoyed!
What would I then find to nourish...
With such complete love?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To see victory only when it is within the ken of the common herd is not the acme of excellence.
I Write Poems For Poets
I WRITE POEMS FOR POETS
I write poems for poets
Our situation as poets-
The longings the feelings
We so need to express-
The love of language-
The hunger for recognition-
The frequent rejection-
The kind word of a reader that moves-
Poems for poets
We as we each are
All so different-
And we as we share
Words and worlds
We hope to have read.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The best things in life are nearest Breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you. Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things in life.
quote by Robert Louis Stephenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let us heed the voice of the people and recognize their common sense. If we do not, we not only blaspheme our political heritage, we ignore the common ties that bind all Americans.
quote by Barbara Jordan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have thought there was some advantage even in death, by which we mingle with the herd of common men.
quote by Henry David Thoreau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Day's End
I yearn so much your genuine love
After my daily tasks are done.
I yearn your precious words of encouragement
Until my stress in life is done.
I yearn the sympathy that in your heart lies
After all the strenuous labor is done.
I yearn the radiant smile on your face
After viewing the glorious setting sun.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Guess What's On My Mind Today?
You want to be understood.
And I get that.
But to locate where you might be hiding,
On a daily basis which has become too often.
To discover you want to play, again...
'Guess What's On My Mind Today? '
Is not worth it to me wanting to know anymore.
Especially if I am not myself playing...
'Forget Anyone Who Hasn't Found Themselves.'
And to stay there until I am identified,
By someone who has met and experienced honesty.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grind
Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind
I can bend in sixty-eight ways
I have lived for twelve thousand days
Twenty-eight teeth inside my head
Grind three types of things and I'm sad that they're dead
Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bigger Poet
Religion cosmos divine truth revelation
God hell heaven and incarnation are
the big things small poets take on
The bigger is the poet smaller is the thing
charms magnificence tit bit and wonder
He writes on, the very common with
mighty observation, gives a model figure
on his speech: how daily the spoon steals
his dish, the rose in the heart with thorns
makes him bleed, delight hides behind
views just he needs to seek the point
here, he kills the cliché.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Since The Day That Love Came To Your Heart (Italian Sonnet) [2]
Since the day that love came to your heart
life feels as if it's played out on a stage
in times of true happiness and rage
where you do act and I play my part
and although joy is sometimes a art
that is not understood in the modern age
where people are content to earn their daily wage
there is something more to our feelings from the very start
and yet never will these true feelings fade,
never will our love be only temperate
as there is much more to it
or only be of happiness a kind of shade
or last to only a sell by date
as daily it grows bit by bit.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Since The Day That Love Came To Your Heart (Italian Sonnet)
Since the day that love came to your heart
life feels as if it's played out on a stage
in times of true happiness and rage
where you do act and I play my part
and although joy is sometimes a art
that is not understood in the modern age
where people are content to earn their daily wage
there is something more to our feelings from the very start
and yet never will these true feelings fade,
never will our love be only temperate
as there is much more to it
or only be of happiness a kind of shade
or last to only a sell by date
as daily it grows bit by bit.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Why Do Poets Write
(just written)
Why do poets write, a question that I wonder.
I’ve asked myself that question over a thousand times.
And I always come up with the same answer
It’s because we are blind.
We accept all that we see constant, as the daily norm.
But I cannot accept it, it’s not where I belong.
There are questions to be answered that we must write about
We’ll climb the highest mountain, and to the world we will shout.
Why is the sky blue? Why is the ocean deep?
Why is the mountain high? Why do we weep?
We have been given everything man could possibly need
This is the reason GOD had planted the seed.
We are the only creatures that have a mind to think
But when we do not use it, we can lose in in a wink.
We as poets see all the beauties that are around
We will write about it, without even making a sound
We will also see the suffering, for not everything in
Life is a bed of flowers, for people are dying
Each and every hour.
There are too many topics for us to write about
War, poverty, hunger, sickness, just to name a few
We can’t write about everything, what are we supposed to do.
So I look around to all that surround me
Then I pick a topic of which I do not foresee.
I put myself in that position of what I am writing about
If it’s about pregnancy, I will feel her aches and pains
And by doing this there is knowledge that I gain.
Life is two sided of that there is no doubt.
Rich, poor, happy, sad, love, hate, boy, girl,
Life, death, all in suits of twos
All this excites me, but which one will I choose?
Why do poets write? now you tell me?
maybe it’s just because we love the poetry.
poem by Louis Rams
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Understanding is only misunderstanding
When you say
“I understand”
You simply confess
That you are only trying
To understand
And you affirm
To guard against
Misunderstanding
Though this may not be true
In a technical discussion
This is always true
When attempts are made
To evaluate issues
Pertaining to minds and emotions
Let us admit
We have not understood
Any one and
Any of the thought processes
Associated with any individual
How many of us
Have understood our parents?
How many of us
Have understood our spouses?
How many of us
Have understood our brothers
And sisters?
How many of us
Have understood our sons
And daughters?
How many of us
Have understood our customers,
Employers and employees
Bosses and sub-ordinates
More you are confident
About these understandings
More likely
You have misunderstood them
Do not ever claim
That you have
Understood others
As you now understand
That
Understanding is only
Misunderstanding
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Till the last minute
You deserve credits
For you have been connecting ages
I know things of the past,
Long long-ago events
Because of you
I also know that generations ahead
Will come to know about this present
Only with your help
How much I become dependent on you
For the simple reason
That you help me communicate
And make me understood by others
The way I want them to
Understand me
Though I used to feel
I am being understood by others
In the same way
I understand myself
Later, I realised, more often than not,
That they have not understood me,
But, in fact, misunderstood me,
Which I could make out
From the reactions in response
To my communications
I do not know,
Whether I too have been
Misunderstanding others
In the same way
They have been doing me
It is all because of the guises
You can take
You look blue to me
While others see you as red
You smell jasmine to me
While others feel it as
Some other fragrance
To me you look opaque
To them transparent
And so on..
Though shapeless
You can assume thousands of shapes
Oh, my dear mother tongue
When I am going to do away with you
So that I am understood right
And I understand better
I hear you telling something
'Yes, when you breathe your last'
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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You Don't Belong Down Here
Sky rise so haunting on the other side of the street
Two thin white lines between where you are and where you should be
I know sometimes when you fly you think you're larger than life
But then you come crashing down and you're asleep on the ground
A king without his crown
Chorus:
You don't belong down here
You don't belong down here
You don't belong down here
Anymore, not ever
This park is an island in a sea of despair
In the heart of the city of angels who aren't even there
I see you praying for hope while you keep worshipping dope
The devil right by your side and i see death in your eyes
Will you live or do you have the will to die
Chorus
Doo, doo, doo, doo
I want to do things before they become
The things i should have done in my life
Chorus
We don't belong down here
You don't belong down here
You don't belong and we don't belong
We don't belong down here
We don't belong down here
We don't belong
No one belongs down here anymore
Not ever
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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