The poem that makes you cry
Why did he write the poem that makes
You cry? Did he intend to make you sad
For the whole day?
He didn’t. He is simply talking about
Himself. It is not about you.It is about his
Own sorrow. The dead ants, the shadow
Of the sun folded and kept in the corner.
The goats that have to go. The lines of your
Palms that you follow. The stars in the
Heavens. The fact that ultimately there
Was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
They are true. I have seen how they happen.
With him on the grassy plain. There is
Always a story to tell. This time you come.
And you find yourself immersed. You are
Like us and so you cry. It is you in us.
It won’t last long anyhow. We shall soon
Part ways, as he once did. Earlier.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Chasing '' Your Rainbow '' ~~
A rainbow does not stay too long,
for everyone to see. So I hurry to
the end of it, to what awaits for me.
~
At the end of my rainbow, I believed
the story true. I'd find all the treasure
I could ever long for. Not gold, nor
jewels, but you!
~
I needed not, a pot of gold. It can't keep me
warm, when nights grow cold. I need
your love '' the only thing ''. 'Tis a treasure
that gold could never bring.
~
So hurry chase '' your rainbow ''! Don't wait
til it' too late on on your next rainy day. The
happiness that you may seek, could quickly
fade away.
~
Now each time I see a rainbow arched across
the velvet skies. I think of you and our love so
true, as these colours pass mine eye's.
***************************************** ***********
~TJW~
There Are Those Who Wait Years To Write A Poem
THERE ARE THOSE WHO WAIT YEARS TO WRITE A POEM
There are those who wait years to write a poem
The fruit slowly ripens inside and then as with Rilke
It suddenly falls -
There are those who write a few lines
And come back time after time
And find the poem after many efforts-
There are those who cannot wait to write a poem
And once conscious of it must write it down as fast as possible
Before it is lost-
And there are those who only in the present writing
Find the poem -
The page suffers many methods and modes
But what truly makes a poem worthy
Is another question.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Follow Me
(denver)
Its by far the hardest thing Ive ever done
To be so in love with you and so alone
Follow me where I go
What I do and who I know
Make it part of you to be a part of me
Follow me up and down
All the way and all around
Take my hand and say youll follow me
Its long been on my mind
You know its been a long long time
Ive tried to find a way that I could make you understand
The way I feel about you
And just how much I need you
To be there when I can talk to you
When theres no one else around
Follow me where I go
What I do and who I know
Make it part of you to be a part of me
Follow me up and down
All the way and all around
Take my hand and say youll follow me
You see, Id like to share my life with you
And show you things Ive seen
Places that Im going to
And places where Ive been
To have you there beside me, well never be alone
And all the time that youre with me
Then we will be at home
Follow me where I go
What I do and who I know
Make it part of you to be a part of me
Follow me up and down
All the way and all around
Take my hand and say youll follow me
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Write You A Poem
I’ll write you a poem
Which will by the day remind you
That I’m still lurking around
As a good friend who’s always true
I’ll write you a poem
About friendships that fickle
About friends like fiends
So that you’ll remember I
With radiance like a star up in the sky
I’ll write you a poem
Of my longings and want
Which by the day makes me hurt
Bleeding black blood
Shedding tearless tears
How inside they flow
Because we’ve refused to water
What earlier we had sown
I’ll write you a poem
That will forever remind you
That as you are needed elsewhere
I need you too
But now please, allow me
To sip from my cup of coffee
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Follow Your Dream
The sign above the doorway
reads Follow Your Dream,
whatever dream that may be.
Reach out for the heavens
and catch a falling star,
make your wish under the moonlight
and dream it will come true.
We have no life without our dreams
so follow them readily.
Make each one so special
and it will come true.
Follow the trail it puts you on
and follow it constantly.
Persistence will find that rainbow
you seek at the end.
All you have to do
is follow your dream.
1 March 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Wishes For You
i wish that you finally decide to choose
a poem and make it a poem
in your lifetime
the one that is ugly at first
but which does not give up to search for ways to become
another beautiful poem
i wish that you finally give up
on being a doubter
and simply be an ordinary wanderer
not thinking of anything else
but wonder
the one whose innocence is always a blank wall
and free to the ways of the confetti
one who looks up to the heavens and says
how beautiful are the stars!
even if there are none
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Make A Poem A Poem?
What makes a poem a poem
Is it the story it tells
The feeling it sells.
what makes a poem a poem
is it the history it shows
or the letters of word flow
do the lines mater it they rhyme
or not, can it be free verse of
abcabc line schem,
What makes a poem a poem
is it the words i repeat
Or the emotion they cove.
What makes a poem a poem
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!
Every Poem Is Another Effort At Poetry
EVERY POEM IS ANOTHER EFFORT AT POETRY
Every poem is another effort at Poetry
Will it belong or not?
And what is Poetry?
And who owns it
And who cares ultimately?
We are criers in the night
Dawn- breaking whisperers of Awe
We make of our little lives
A gantze gescheft.
No one is where we are
When we are alone,
And even the once beautiful stars
Have given way for us
To cold measurements of deeper darkness.
Let us say we know how to pray
And some of us do
Let us say that for some there is God waiting to answer
Let us listen.
The poems and Poetry and who and what we are
Go on in ways we do not know.
I write these lines as congregant
Whose love for Beauty
Has been gratified
Through the the singing in prayer
in the synagogue Yakar
Yerushalayim.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Le Pont Noir
I'm going to the bridge tonight
Venus shines so ever bright
Deep in the woods under the stars
How did I come to get this fa
Have this feeling...what will I find
Around the corner of my mind?
A thousand trees of creeping sin
Dead leaves blowing in the wind
I'm whistling an old melody
To keep the beast away from me
I hear the call of croaking frogs
Answering me lost in the fog
I tell myself, everything's fine
Here in these woods, for the first time
Uh, ohh!
Out in the dark, a shadow sound
Fear to look, but turn around
I realize I'm face to face
Two yellow eyes, an evil gaze
Ugly blood hound, no wagging tail
How long has he been on my trail?
Down to the bridge, he's leading me
What is it he wants me to see?
Uh, ohh!
Already we've arrived, Here I am
There's the bridge, Where's the man, What a scam!
That story 'bout the bridge isn't true
I'm enjoying myself, what a view!
They say the bridge is not what it is
No one ever comes back...so they say
What could happen to me, anyway?
>From away, a tall man comes to me...
Has he been here waiting...just for me?
He says there's no more fishing in the lake
But one thing for sure...I'm the catch of the day!
This is what happens
When one looks for gold
Turn'd into gray stone
And down deep you are thrown!!
All this is over (X4
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Not Write About A Poem Where You Can Relate
i will not write a poem
where you can relate
because it will
be painful
and i do not like
you to take
the pain
the pain
you have now
will be too much to bear
and if i add another dose of pain
from these lines i am afraid that you may not be able to take it
instead i will write a poem
where everything will be strange to you something that
will not make you remember something that will make you wonder
about a world which you have not ever known something that strikes a
note in your heart
that awakens you and brings you a new day
that presents to you some pages of the sea and tell you a story
not about us, that which takes you at the top of the mountain and lets
you see some clear skies, a full orange moon, a dark blue horizon something
that makes you wish upon another star that makes your heart
stronger than ever that which makes you live and never again think of death
because i love you
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'd Love To Write A Love Poem For You
I'd love to write a poem for you
Want to make it good
I want it to be romantic
As you might think it should
You're a vision in my head
And I can't believe you're real
You attend the U of Sexuality
And got straight A's in sex appeal
You're as metaphorical as a simile.
And poetic like a rhyme.
I'd like to write a poem for you
Got some better ways to spend my time.
Like to hug you or to kiss you
or to give you a ride
To take you out to dinner
or to please you from inside.
Id like to write a poem for you
but I'd rather not instead
I love to drive you all around
While you are giving head.
I love to please you with my fingers
I love to make you scream
I love to write you poetry
Love to see you when I dream.
I'd like to write a poem for you
a love poem, there's no doubt
I like when there is no one home
And you're free to moan and shout
I like it when you call me names
And even when you're sad
Its me you trust to make you smile
And that just makes me glad
I think you're great I think you're hot
I think you think the same
I think its not a lie to say
We'd win, if love's a game.
I'd love to be near you all the time
but that simply ain't the case,
Can't believe it's been 3 weeks
Since I saw that pretty face
I'd love to have you by my side
As I lay on this bed
I shall have to settle for,
Your image in my head
I can't wait to hold you or
to kiss you with my mouth
My life is tops when with you
And without you headed south.
I'd love to write you a love poem
but I'm afraid it seems like jokes
I know you don't like cholesterol
So for your eggs I'll cut out the yokes
When you and I embrace again
I'll hold you oh so tight,
I'll kiss your every skin cell
I'm gonna love you right
I love it when you use your mouth
Especially when I'm baked
I love to look at your body
Especially when its nake'd
I want you so so badly
I miss you so so much
I want you as my lifeline
I need you as my crutch
I'd love to write you a poem
but I'm scared I'd never stop
So I'll just keep on writing
Until my eyelids drop
And then when I arise
I'll probably write some more
And I'll just keep on writing
Until your at my door.
I'm not sure you'll get to this line,
As this poem is f***in' long
So you don't have to read it,
but I'm picturing you in a thong
It looks so very sexy
As on you all things do,
I really want you here with me
I really love you, too.
poem by Les Wordsmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talking To Oneself
why do you follow me?
i repeat
i do not have roses in my hands
i do not carry a bowl of soup
a basket of fried chickens
do you like the contours
of my back?
there are no muscles on it
nothing smooth like the skin of a morning leaf
do you see a map there?
or a pot of gold at the feet of my rainbow?
how can i ever have
a rainbow?
there is no pot of gold
pure myth
are you falling in love with my
tracks?
they are not like the tracks of
gazelles
nothing like the softness of deers
they are all sculptures
of mud
animal dung are its
possibilities of content
unlike all journeys
you must know by now that mine
has no
exact destination
there is no time here
nothing like the calculated arrivals of
weathers
nothing like the predictability of the
seasons
why do you follow me? why are you always following me?
i am a little bit disturbed
likely and sooner i will be perturbed
do you love the bounty of my
emptiness? it is an empty bowl on the side of
the abandoned house
are you not scared by the monster
of my nothingness? they are the ghosts who cannot
locate the entrances of their rests
they are those long dead but who could not find
eternal peace
they are the restless screams of the unthinkable souls
of Hades
i always move away
that is the only kind of motion that i know
shadow, oh shadow, why do you follow me?
light, oh amazing light, why do you cast it upon myself?
this is the only pleasure that i have
i talk to myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Etcetera....
i am seeing what you do not see
they are not invisible, they are real, subject always
to more doubtful
and debatable interpretations
which i think you better not see
because it demeans me
and then i begin to write
this poem, something that you may not like
to understand but just the same
it is here with a lot of doubtful validity,
must this be a poem still? plain word getting into a prelude
of a convoluted thinking failing to give more
landscapes of colors and lines
plain straight lines
like a road, a very long road that you have been walking
all throughout your life
and asking if this is worth the day's troubles
what i see here may demean you too
it has demeaned me
many times in the past and perhaps in the coming days, years,
but i am always seeing it
because it makes me alive
my life worth living,
at times i think that i am a very sinful man
but i raise my eyes to God thanking him that he still makes me live
this sinful life
those that understand me have always been misunderstood too
a sympathizer to sinners
but being misunderstood is a fact
it is human
and i am glad that you are here too
supporting cast
to this human drama
this humanity that screams at times
and then so silent in the sleep
because the soul is too tired
coping up with the mistakes of the body
etcetera....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gold at the Rainbow’s End
Everyone wants to find
the gold at the rainbow’s end,
but most of us have already found it,
and just don’t realise the fact.
We have a lot of good friends,
and a love that soars us into the heavens.
That is what the pot of gold is all about.
These are worth more than
the gems that sparkle in your hand.
They make your life sparkle
with the happiness they bring to you.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plain Gold Ring
Earl s. burroughs
Plain gold ring on his finger he wore
It was where everyone could see
He belonged to someone, but not me
On his hand was a plain gold band
Plain gold ring has a story to tell
It was one that I knew too well
In my heart it will never be spring
Long as he wears a plain gold ring
Oh, oh
When nighttime comes a callin on me
I know why I will never be free
I cant stop these teardrops of mine
Im gonna love him till the end of time
Plain gold ring has but one thing to say
Ill remember till my dying day
In my heart it will never be spring
Long as he wears a plain gold ring
Plain gold ring on his finger he wore
Plain gold ring on his finger he wore
Plain gold ring on his finger he wore
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write Me A POEM
wrtie me a poem.
why don't you write me a poem?
you other girls get cars and money.
write me a poem.
all i want is a poem. a long beutiful poem.
write me a poem.
poetry is like making love. long and beutiful.
write me a poem.
i don't need your money or cars. all i want is your words.
so please,
WRITE ME A POEM.
written by bleeding mascara
poem by Shadow Eyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Little World
1 2 3 4.
1 2 3 4.
Little boy up in (? )...
Thats left behind to sin.
Moving like a camera I can watch you on my screen.
Fall into a shadow world inside of me.
Hidden like a treasure.
Secrets in my scene.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Ah, you can follow me.
Scream inside.
Whisper.
Picture in a dream.
You can talk to me and we can talk forever.
I could take you to the doorway and I can give you the way, the key.
No one here can see you, no one here but me.
Fall into our shadow, theres another world in me.
And youre invited.
And youre invited.
In the little world I make with all the little things I take...
A million ways to pass the time, in this little world of mine.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow you can follow you can follow follow follow follow follow.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
Secrets in this world.
Picture in a dream.
No one here can see you, no one here but me.
And you can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow.
In the little world I make with all the little things I take...
A million ways to pass the time, in this little world of mine.
You can follow me, follow me.
You can follow me.
Oh, you can follow.
You can follow me. follow me.
You can follow me. follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
You can follow me.
Where are we going?
You can follow me.
But where are we going?
You can follow me.
Where do you wanna go?
You can follow me.
Ok.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Suzy With Love
For Suzanne
This is a true account of what happen to me in 2006 and 2007.
In 1958, there was a girl in my class at school.
Who would many; many years later turn my life around.
We didn’t talk much socially at school;
in fact, we were virtually strangers.
Yet here we are living thousands of miles away
from each other now and we are very good friends.
She found me adrift on the internet one day in December 2006.
At first, I didn’t recognise her name,
but when I saw an old school photograph,
I recognised her straight away.
Many happy memories were soon to fill my head.
We got talking through emails
telling how much each of our lives had changed.
It was through these exchanges
she would turn my life around.
She introduced me to a friend of hers in a roundabout way.
That introduction changed my life forever
in ways I could only dream.
Her friend wrote poetry
and I went along to read them on an internet site,
but had to join to comment.
Since then that friend of hers
has become a very good friend of mine to,
so much so I adopted her as my sister.
After joining the poetry site I put up some old poems of mine,
just to show the world how bad I was.
The joke was on me
because they said I was better than I thought.
One thing led to another and more friends I did gain.
However, Suzy still remains someone special to me.
At school, we might have been strangers,
but we are strangers no more.
In fact, now she feels more like part of my family.
Suzy with her friend gave me my life back in many ways.
Sometimes I think back of those dark days
before she caught me adrift on the internet.
This story isn’t over yet, it still has a long way to run.
Next year I plan to meet Suzy and her friend,
and you can bet your bottom dollar
there will be tears hugs and kisses all around.
For those who don’t know whom Suzy’s friend might be,
her name is Melvina Germain
who also means the world to me.
However, Suzy this poem comes from me to you will love.
Thank you my long lost classmate
for all that you have done.
23 October 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Late To Write A Poem
It’s late to write a poem-
It’s almost time to go-
And yet now as I was about to leave
The spirit of poetry came to me
And I feel in me lines that want to be written-
So as I quietly calmly surely write these lines down now
I know
The world can wait a long time for a real poem-
But when it comes
Oh how the sky opens up and the dreams go on happily on their journey.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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