The Outcast
as i see it
from page to page
it seems
that he does not like you
to write anything at all
be it prose
or poetry
minute by minute
every second
he puts the words
and on every line
there is no vacant
space for you
where do you insert
your thought? there is one space
for you
and it is outside his
big circle.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Fading ink
Fading ink
~
the words which flowed
from pen to page
in a steady stream
have trickled silently
into a vacant space
silent prose sits impatiently
awaiting the spark
to ignite inspiration
to fire up the pen
and resume its flow
of words from pen to paper
but a nothingness holds
space for rent across the page
a canvas of thought
where words once ran
the old ink fades
in the light of a new day
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Poem In Here
this is a blank space reserved for an obituary of a dead poem
prose claims a space though in another glossy page.
plese turn to the next page
those non-poets like me please transfer to another room
this place is for dead poems for those who killed living poems this page this space is reserved for all of them.
we non-poets are moving out to another empty page
about to be added, if you can wait, mr. poet...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Telling Stories
There is fiction in the space between
The lines on your page of memories
Write it down but it doesnt mean
Youre not just telling stories
There is fiction in the space between
You and me
There is fiction in the space between
You and reality
You will do and say anything
To make your everyday life
Seem less mundane
There is fiction in the space between
You and me
Theres a science fiction in the space between
You and me
A fabrication of a grand scheme
Where I am the scary monster
I eat the city and as I leave the scene
In my spaceship I am laughing
In your remembrance of your bad dream
Theres no one but you standing
Leave the pity and the blame
For the ones who do not speak
You write the words to get respect and compassion
And for posterity
You write the words and make believe
There is truth in the space between
There is fiction in the space between
You and everybody
Give us all what we need
Give us one more sad sordid story
But in the fiction of the space between
Sometimes a lie is the best thing
Sometimes a lie is the best thing
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Minute By Minute (Dobbie Brothers)
(Michael McDonaldLester Abrams)
Hey, don't worry, I've been lied to
I've been here many times before
Girl, don't you worry, I know where I stand
I don't need this love, I don't need your hand
I know I could turn, blink, and you'd be gone
Then I must be prepared any time to carry on
But minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
Oh, minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
You will stay just to watch me, darlin'
Wilt away on lies from you
Can't stop the habit of livin' on the run
I take it all for granted like you're the only one
Livin' on my own
Somehow that sounds nice
You think I'm your fool
Well, you may just be right
'Cause minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
Oh, minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
Call my name and I'll be gone
You'll reach out and I won't be there
Just my luck you'll realize
You should spend your life with someone
You could spend your life with someone
Minute by minute by minute by minute
I'll be holding on
Oh, minute by minute by minute by minute
I'll be holding on...
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poems Went Away
THE POEMS WENT AWAY
The poems went away.
Nothing inside.
An empty will for poetry
Forcing words on the page,
Words without music
Without resonance
Without great implication
Meaning.
Write, write, write
Lest you die.
And the words themselves
A kind of desperate uphill catching of breath
On the page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Totally Biased
I do not often write free form
to me it is not poetry.
Freely admit my prejudice
I think it’s just a passing phase
Although I can appreciate
poetic and well written prose
This does not make it poetry
When I consult my dictionary
it makes it very clear to me.
All writing must be one of those
It can’t be both at he same time.
Prose poetry cannot exist
an obvious oxymoron
Though modern writer still insist
that what they write is poetry
.It may be really beautiful
and well presented on the page
but definitely not poetry.
Why can they not be satisfied
with their well written thoughts in prose.
Why do they call it poetry
a dandelions not a rose.
Its meter defines poetry
it doesn’t even need to rhyme.
Even free verse had its rules
but writers seem to think today
There are no rules anything goes.
I nail my colours to the mast
Not afraid to let my bias show.
31-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vow 2 (Right Words)
I've always been able to
now I don't even know what to do
it's never been a problem before
I've always been able to write about it
talk about it, now that it hit me
I'm somewhat speechless
I put pad to pen, nothing
an empty space on a white page
shouldn't this just write itself?
not a word or a single letter
I know it hit me, I feel it
it hurts yet I like it,
I smile at the sight of it
I've spent days and still on a blank page
it's stupid to say, but I give up
a pen is in rage to silence
to express this, these feelings
no words could describe
nor will I try
the only thing I can say for certain
that it is real, I Love you
this I vow.
poem by Kelvin Owusu
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Minute By Minute
Michael mcdonald/lester abrams
Hey, dont worry, Ive been lied to
Ive been here many times before
Girl, dont you worry, I know where I stand
I dont need this love, I dont need your hand
I know I could turn, blink, and youd be gone
Then I must be prepared any time to carry on
But minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
Oh, minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
You will stay just to watch me, darlin
Wilt away on lies from you
Cant stop the habit of livin on the run
I take it all for granted like youre the only one
Livin on my own
Somehow that sounds nice
You think Im your fool
Well, you may just be right
cause minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
Oh, minute by minute by minute by minute
I keep holding on
Call my name and Ill be gone
Youll reach out and I wont be there
Just my luck youll realize
You should spend your life with someone
You could spend your life with someone
Minute by minute by minute by minute
Ill be holding on
Oh, minute by minute by minute by minute
Ill be holding on...
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And the Child Draws a World
the teacher asks the child to draw
The world
& the universe
And the child with his Mongol pencil
put a dot
for a start on his clean white bondpaper
(& as his fingers are clumsy
His hands still shaky)
he makes a stretch of a crooked
line
Stretching
& occupying almost all the space of the paper
To make a
Crooked circle
His world
And for his universe
He draws five little stars
crude
A crescent moon A comet moving In a blank space
A space rocket
Is drawn
On the top page in propulsion
A crooked circle The lines hardly meet At a common point
For a world
A little blank space For the universe
And where is God there?
The teacher asks him
You gave no instruction, sir. The child answered.
But He is there, the Child thinks.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Book Of Days
Your life is as a book
Written on the pages are the weeks
For you would give anything to take just one look
Into the next chapter, the next page
Each page is a new thought, a new dream
Sometimes it takes so long to pass that page
And sometimes nothing is as it seams
For you know you can not go ahead or back
You know you are where you are
You know you can't change that
As you read page to page, so near to fear
You write the chapters as you go, with each turn
Each turn, each move changes what's to come
And you know each moment could be the last
With this in mind you go so mumb
So numb to the touch, to the thought
You turn page after page
until you reach the 'end'
And only then, you are freed from the title
The title that has kept your thoughts bound, and tight
You turn the pages one by one
You take the pain, take the joy
Until you are done
And your story becomes another on the shelf of eternity
(1/24/2008)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vacant Space
this is the vacant space
of my room, you may come
this is the vacant hour
you may barge and talk simply talk
this is the vacant lot of my being
you may build your home
this is vacant
fill it with space, drag your hours here,
start watering the roses in your garden
beside your house
this is a vacant hole in my ear
talk simply talk
i am always listening
this is my vacant line, please fill in the missing
word
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to a Blank Page
Ode to a blank page
It’s blue seemingly thin lines flying across the page
Each producing a small space to place your thoughts on
Next lies the taunting red margin
Baring how sparsely you’ve done
You can strike the page with a single blow
Leaving a mark that did no good
Ode to a blank page
Why do you stare?
Taunting and shrieking in my ear
Emptiness fills the page
The blanks intimidate even the strong
How strong it is
To give a cut even to the toughest skin
Ode to a blank page
You know I’m jealous
How I despise all your characteristics
poem by Rachele ...duhh
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The Poetry Has Gone Out Of Me
The Poetry has gone out of me
I am as blank as prose-
There is no force of feeling in me
Flat as a lox my words on the page-
I am the middle of the Midwest
Going on and on on the surface only-
I have no inside-
No wind shakes me-
Words are words and only words,
Detached from all emotion-
How flat stale not even weary and unprofitable can a blank confessional poem be?
The feeling of being without feeling
No feeling at all.
A lox inside and a lox on the page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This minute
I melt this minute
to a candle
and light it with my poetry.
I will give a new colour to darkness
and make a new path
for the stream of poetry to flow.
That minute,
i will burn history
and write a new history
glorifying the power of labours
and the guts of soldiers.
I will spread peace
and love with that light
and construct a bridge
from reality to dreamland.
Then i again solidify the minute
and let the time
pass by...
White as Truth
i am a page of white
a space limited only by
the scope of your thoughts
you can write whatever you wish
onto me - the good, the bad, or the ugly
- provided they are from your heart,
truthful, innocent and pure as a white lily
you dont have to worry about me
let your thoughts flow like the breeze
i have enough space for you
to fill out all your fantasies
i am a page of black
you can write what you want
- the good, the bad, or the ugly -
provided they are really from
your heart, truthful, innocent
and pure as white lily
i have enough space for you to
fill out all your fantasies
just make sure your ink is white
so that it will shine as bright as truth
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~Painting Poetry~
Poetry in thought
words tumble
from my mind
onto the page and screen
like paint dripping
from sable silk brushes
creating new visions
of new realities
in the virtual space
of my Soul
painting a perfect picture
words drip down the canvas
in deep brilliant hues
of purples and reds
and vibrant blues
to soft indigo of
twinkling velvet starlight
yellow tones as warm as sunrize
and golden oranges
of fleeting sunsets
blanket the page and screen
as verse, lyric and rhyme converge
splattering from my tongue
giving form to my dreams
and shape to my fantasies
trailing across
the smooth texture
and terrain of
flesh and muscle
brushes whisper
across the canvas
dance across bodies
images of two entwined
captured boldly
in Nubian hues
of mahogany and mocha
limbs and torsos
move and connect
in a vision of words spoken
caught in the kinetic frenzy
of bodies joined
and poetry painted
across the canvas
of this night’s loving
a masterpiece to behold
for generations to come
culminating in the joining of
pen and brush
words and colors
page and canvas
poetry and paint
poem by Soulful One
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry, That's What I Write
Parody of the classic song Money, That's What I Want
The best words on the page are here
Teaching you a hell of a lot more about life
Then just the birds and bees
Now you know words of magic
Words of wisdom
Given birth
Right here, right now
Oh, yes
Poetry, that's what I write
My wicked writing should give you such a thrill
So don't be shy
Go ahead and click on this link right here
My poetry won't pay your bills, no
But I can promise to give you some kinky thrills
Now you know
Poetry, that's what I write
Bright and beautiful
Perfect as can be
Poetry, that's what I write
Oh yeah baby
Poetry
Poetry, that's what I write
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I like
Poetry
Oh yes
Poetry, that's what I love
Poetry, that's what I write
Whoa
My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby
Well, now read my poetry
Ooooh, oooh yeah my poetry
Read my
Love my
Poetry, oh yeah that's what I like
What I love
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I write
Yeah
2008 Ramona Thompson
poem by Ramona Thompson
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There Are Times When Only By Hearing The Poems Of Others
THERE ARE TIMES WHEN ONLY BY HEARING THE POEMS OF OTHERS
There are times when only by hearing the poems of others,
Can one begin to write one’s own-
One needs the rhythm of poetry
And once one has it
One can perhaps begin.
This morning I have not listened to anyone else-
And I write these lines
Into the bare space of the page
With a tremor of doubt
At whether they are ‘poetry’.
I hear myself as a poem
But what others hear
May be something else entirely-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I've already written 300 space poems. But I look upon my ultimate form as being a poetic prose. When you read it, it appears to be prose, but within the prose you have embedded the techniques of poetry.
quote by Story Musgrave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Primal Death
Space
Time
Space
Travel
Raining
Ai ming
Space
Time
Space
Expanding
Un iting
Increasing
Space
Time
Space
Sweeping
Restraining
Stretching
Space
Time
Space
Wrestling
Throwing
Throwi ng up
Space
Time
Space
Falling
Sinkin g
Overturning
Space
Time
Space
Whi rling
Space
Time
Space
Disturbing
Space
Time
Space
Whirring
Space
Ti me Space
Erring at
Nothing
poem by August Stramm
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