What We Have Written Here
what we have written here
stays here and makes a carving
of a name.Yours and mine.
oh, there may be no use of them anymore
what is past is past and every verb
you have put in any line has
thawed like frozen cubes
turning into liquid, something that
describes us, we are past our age
of another year,
all these poems become nothing
but adjectives
simply stated, another part of speech.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of All The Poems I Have Written And Forgotten
OF ALL THE POEMS I HAVE WRITTEN AND FORGOTTEN
Of all the poems written and forgotten
Are there any worthy of remembrance?
I go on losing my poems as I make more of them-
The same old story
The future calls
And the past is forgotten
And all futures
Become past.
When will I learn to remember
My own work?
To cherish it
As I do that of others?
Line after line
Racing into the distance
Of a never- to- be – known
And forever forgotten
Unreality.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Don't Know Where The Past Is Gone
I don’t know where the past is gone
I only know most of my own life is over-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know so many people I loved
Are no longer here and will never be here again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
I only know that that chance I had that hope for so many years
Can never be mine in the same way again-
I don’t know where the past has gone
So many moments of beauty and love and opportunity missed and longing unrealized-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what of it I should miss
And why I should long for it so.
I don’t know where the past has gone
And where my life was lost and why I did not do better in it-
I don’t know where the past has gone
And what will be when for me
Everything is only the Past gone
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Past
I can never let go of my past because my past has marked me
Every time I look down
Every time I look over
There is my past
The notches
The bold the non-mistakable scars
…the scars
My past
Each and every one has a story
Each and every one has a memory
Each and every one has brought tears to my eyes
For no story nor memory are of happiness, triumph, or glory
No, they are of fear, anxiety, self-hatred, paranoia, and loneliness
I can never let go of my past because my past will always be part of me
poem by Scarlet Mo Chroi
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Hoping Of Happy New Year
Hoping of happy New Year
The year has passed
The New Year has arrived
All the pains sadness and angriness has become past
All the happiness, sweetness and love has arrived
All the sickness, Madness and childness has gone
All the matureness, intelligence and hopes has arrived
My all the things are now my past
My all concentration is just focusing on future
New Year has arrived with hope
A hope of goodness in everything
A hope that my country will be in peace
A hope that all problems may come with a simple solution
May my all the relations become more sweet and loveable?
May my all pathetic memories be just past
May my life be quite simple
May my life be full of joy
Past year is a past don’t matter what was it
But the future is unknown and unseen
Don’t know that what will happen
Just hope that everything will be good and ok
So I hope that every hope will not just hope
Hope we can say next year with hope that Happy New Year
poem by Fatima Obaid
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Language also encodes our past. We want to know who we are. To know who we are, we have to know who we used to be. Consequently, our literature, written in the past, anchors us in that past.
quote by Andrei Waida
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Gobble Gobble 4
This is a special time
we celebrate each year
Honey, something in your eye
or could that be a tear
The past is the past
this year I'll behave
Are you disgusted
or starting the wave
I know in the past
I have let you down
You told me last year
I played a naked clown
I may not remember
all the things I've done
But you know of Turkeys
all call me number one
Yep, I'm a Turkey
that I proudly admit
But I can't be a Turkey
if no one pitches a fit
So I guess you could say
that I do it all for you
You see, Turkeys may GOBBLE
but like all, they need Love too
This Thanksgiving remember
if your Turkey plays the part
He would not be a Turkey
if he were not in your heart
Terry M
A Fate of Top Poems!
Past poets were remarkable by their poems only;
But present poets are made remarkable by others!
Poetry of the past are no doubt top poems ever;
But poetry of the top are not listed in top poems!
Becoming top poets how can theirs have no place
Among the top poems of the poetry list? I wonder!
Touch stone of the top poems depends on merit
But not by the supports of friends for fun ever!
Poems of lasting value only can become classic;
But poems of no merit also have become classic!
Poetry of the past are romantic and also classic
But poetry of the present are neither but modern!
What is the yardstick to select poems as top ones -
Just support of some but not merit and meaning?
poem by Ramesh T A
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Number 4
Got a phone call today
They said you passed away
You were fine morning
And just yesterday
But now you've got no heartbeat
We have the same name
But I know nothing about you
Just stories, just fame
I didn't cry earlier
Not when I heard
Not a single tear
But now they're here
I had so many chances to visit
Like last year with my cousin
Last month when you were still livin'
But I didn't
I just didn'
I know it wasn't right
That I should've held you tight
At least so I can remember
The last time I told you goodnight
But I can't
I'm sorry I don't know you
I'm sorry I was never near
It's not that I don't care
Now you're part of my prayers
Part of the past
The past is the past
Live in the present
Prepare for the future
That's all I can do
poem by Mariam de Haan
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Those Changes Of The Heart
there is a better grip on all those
that we have not seen
we hope for what is not yet here
strange matters of these hands
the past had always been different
the future doubtful
what is here always teaches us
mixed up, we cry we smile,
sometimes we are frozen
then thawed and so fluid
then we are happy we are blinded
moves on with nothing but feelings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sad Love Pains
I am not sure of myself and not even about this life anymore. Doubt, only doubt is here. One thing is sure that I will never look back into my past. Being left alone was not easy to deal with although my past will never understand. My past was all that I had and loved. Sadly, it is gone and I have to forget forever.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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I've Not Been To Jerusalem
No one told me it was easy
No one told me that this life
Would be only joy and happiness
And lacking any strife.
No one told me it was easy
No one said it was a breeze
With no problems on the journey
And just doing as I please.
No one told me that my future
Would be more troubled than my past
For I was young and optimistic
And lived each day as if my last.
No one told me that those black clouds
Would not be followed by blue skies
For I believed in providence
And no failure could be mine.
No one told me that this blackness
Would come a’knocking at my door
No one told me that my circumstance
Would not be hopeful anymore.
No one told me, no one told me
And I’m past remembering
The day those storm clouds gathered
And then dark was everything.
No one sees me, no one sees me
And I do not wonder why
For I simply am a virus
That makes problems multiply.
When I see you, when I see you
When my shadow hides your sun
Please look at me as who I am
Not what I have not done.
When you see me, when you see me
And you wonder where I’ve been
I’ve not been to Jerusalem
But to somewhere in between.
poem by David Keig
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Lay Here
laying in the grass
the grass that quitely speaks
speaks to me
about LIFE
life is real
life is fake
life is everything
life is hard to explain
you live then you die
the grass lays and brakes to the wind
the WIND
the wind is soft
the wind is hard
the wind is everywhere
can you follow the wind?
can you be everywhere?
i lay and remember
remember my PAST
the past is mine
the past is yours
i share the past with you
so can i remember 'my' past?
as i talked to the grass
i realized that the
that befor the day i die
i will not see and know everything
i will not have been everywhere
but i will have a shared past with 'her'
a life, a life to tell others
to past down my wisdom
MY LIFE IN MY MIND IS MINE
Until you heal the wounds of your past, You will continue to bleed into the future,
Until you heal the wounds of your past,
You will continue to bleed into the future,
One can own ones past, but you can heal,
Move on I was told, by a human heart, mine,
A statement I read,
'Until you heal the wounds of your past, you will continue to bleed into the future.'
Gave me the the words,
I now own my future,
My human heart told me, it is time,
I own my past,
Now the past is misplaced,
It will rear it's ugly head, from time to time,
But the future is mine to keep,
Beyond all past examples, the future is mine,
Not knowing the future is exciting,
But it's mine to dream.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
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No Future, Too Much Past
When you have no future
You have to live in the past
A member of this human race
Who'll pass the finish line last.
The future, things to come
Nothing much except pain
The past, Times gone by
Nothing at all, just plenty of rain.
So disaster looms on every corner
Just waiting to leap out at you
You could take a different path
But it finds you whatever you do.
So the future and the past Are just one and the same
The first and second halves of a stupid bloody game
Impossible to win, Destined to lose
I should just give in and sink into the ooze.
And the future draws to a close
While the past increases in size
No future, too much past
And more loneliness, sadness and lies.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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Past
Past is past.
It never comes.
It helps us something to learn.
Past lives may hurt us.
But It never ruins us.
Don't fight the past.
Let it go, always be simple, always be inspired.
There is no point going with the past.
There is the point going with present.
Past determines nothing.
Present determines something.
poem by Yash Pradhan
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The Past, Now and Future
the past is what makes me, me
the now is what i choose to be
the future is what i cant see
if i live in the past
the now wont last
the future comes fast
the past was bad
the now is sad
the future has to be glad
the past is over and gone
the now is here, so i go on
the future is soon to come
poem by Sandy Nobody
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The poems I love
There are poems that I envy,
poems that I admire and respect,
poems that simply sing to me,
poems that I puzzle over…
but the poems I most love -
they may be jewelled and adorned
with adjectives and adverbs,
similes and metaphors, (but
they must be enlightening, relevant,
making mind and heart to expand
in sheer exhilaration)
or they may be so quietly, humbly carpentered
that they say, I’m simply here to serve you…
but they all say to me with
shining eyes, as if
the world made new in that moment,
‘Yes, I was there!
Join me there! ’
and their ‘there’ is here and now
and as great as the universe
and the heart that yearns.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Nations without a past are contradictions in terms. What makes a nation is the past, what justifies one nation against others is the past, and historians are the people who produce it.
quote by Eric Hobsbawm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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Breath by Breath
Our moments are precious and
Our time is now.
Use it wisely and use it well!
There is no connecting the past
And future. The presence is the
in-between and only lasts but
Less than a breath.
The presence is so fast,
a blink of an eye and it is the past!
Then are we really living our future with
each inhale and our past goes out
with each exhale?
Are is it really just a pretence of presence?
Future - Past,
Future - Past,
Future - Past!
poem by JDarrell Kirkley
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