When We Visit Him
when we visit him today
he says his heart leaps with joy
and we hug him
old man Gil
and he tells me
about my poetry
about the anonymous
the house without a resident
the world without color
the reason without a cause
the nothingness of space
and death
he says i am morbid
though beautiful
he feels it
and tears start flowing from his eyes
his Mechong is dead
his one and only beloved
since then the dead poem of mine
written a long long time ago
has assumed its desired shape
and now he understands it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Retrieved Poetry
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
But the inspiration that befell the poet,
But the gods that cursed the poet
Would never allow him grow weary.
It keeps pouring out like morning dew
From sundown to cock crow.
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
Those would get paid
That wishes it out of this world.
Judgement day, the pay day, even today
,
Memories linger of what the gods inspired.
Only poetry has survived a worldwide flood.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
But the inspiration keeps coming,
But the memory keeps living.
Poetry lives on even when the world is dead;
It dies only if it is not poetry
And there is only a good few poetry.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
Until we start seeing poetry as poetry
And nothing more, until that day,
Until we start thinking he is inspired,
Until we stop thinking for the poet;
He is possessed he is innocent.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument.
Even as we cut from the same tree,
Even as we speak same universal language,
You cannot cut deep if your axe's blunt.
We can never speak from same mouth.
You can only say your own thought.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument,
If poetry is dead killed by death,
If poetry is dead swallowed by death,
The corpse should be in our front.
We should know how to bury it.
We should dig not cover it with dust.
Poetry is dead,
If poetry is really dead,
There is cause to weep bitterly,
There is cause to think deeply
For the world has been stripped naked.
For poetry is great, ageless, timeless, bottomless
At the burial we must remain emotionless.
poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
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There Was A Poem Long Ago
THERE WAS A POEM LONG AGO
There was a poem long ago
A poem of youth and hope
Now there are other poems
Poems of age and sorrow.
There was a poem once
Of love – and happiness in love
Now there is a poem of lovelessness
And sadness.
There was a poem once
Of the long and distant open road
Now there is a poem of the dead end.
There was a poem once
That believed in Poetry
Now there is a poem that knows
Even the most beautiful worlds of words
End in dust
There was a poem once – long ago.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All The Poems Remain Written Where They Once Never Were
ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE
All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
The trees and dark cities of the distance form single sounds in the heart of the poet who cares
Night is more than darkness and day more than an early setting out
Each thing influences the other and calls back its own origins and end
We are going somewhere we will never know whether we write eternal lines or not
Over everywhere can be heard in the morning light the selfsame sound that through the heart of Ruth burned the alien corn
Keats is not dead, and Borges is not dead and Kafka is not dead and Wordsworth and all those who wrote great lines are not dead
Poetry is the last first eternity of the living word
And those who can hear the sounds of others greater than themselves in their own lines know
We are all writing down this last poem for ourselves and no one else
Though as we go to pray each morning the minyan tells us secretly
All our prayers together are more than any single poem can be alone
In the grey long distance where no one hears any poem at all
God writes and rewrites for us all the book of the stars in which dread is no longer a name
And beauty bright bright beauty is heard and reechoed as more than we will ever be
God is the only Poetry in the End
God is the Only One who never will be dead..
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Death of Poetry
Poetry is dead and God is alive.
I heard these words and began to cry.
Without poetry what would become of me,
Drowning in a sea of Christianity?
Poetry is dead and long let it lie
With its Thee and its Thy and its Thou and its Thine
May we never see another line
Of iambic pentameter with end-stopped rhymes.
Poetry is dead, and so it shall lay,
Mouldering at the pit of its shallow grave.
And no longer will they give a hoot
For the quatrain stanzas or the metered foot!
Poetry is dead at the bottom of the sea
With its anapests, dithyrambs, dactyls and spondees.
And also eight to sixteen lines
On your innermost feelings or the meaning of life.
Poetry is dead but how long will it stay
Before they resurrect it for another day?
Has it not been just a few years time
Since they said it was God who was dead—
-and poetry alive?
poem by Theresa Haffner
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is No World, No Other World For Me
today, mama, i will tell you
now that you are dead
today, papa, i will tell you,
now that you have long been
dead and buried
and rotten and
dusty
i have no other world for me out there
not the law, not the magic of
your wish for the sciences,
not the purse, not the gun, not the house
or the land, not the scent of money,
not money, not the cows
and carabaos, not the cottage
not the beach
this is my world now
within the confines of the coffins
of poetry.
i am bound. i am caged, i am free
at last.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Story Of My Life
My house is there by the side of the hill
Without color without name
Father andmother brought me into that
House by the side of the hill
Without color without name
Each day there is a celebration of
Nothingness
Without reason without cause
Without color without name
I am the anonymous of the that nothingnes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Innocent`s Farewell
innocent`s farewell
i`m not dead
you will see me again for so much you loved me
let your innermost peace
i`m going to the world of poetry
where i will be eating poetry, drinking poetry
hate me no more now allow my soul to rest in peace in the world of poetry.
i`m not dead
i`m going to the world of poetry
where love dont exist but only wisdom
where there is no weapon but just pen and paper
where hunger and anger don`t exist but only joy.
i`m not dead
thy shall not cry for that is the waste of tears
i feel no pain anymore but only joy
i have no problems anymore but only progress
i`m not coming backto life
for where i`m death does not exist
i`m not dead but i`m living in the world of poetry
i`m with poets
we don`t get bored we are always writing poems.
poem by Innocent Mkhwanazi
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The Poem I Did Not Write Today
THE POEM I DID NOT WRITE TODAY
The poem I did not write today
Will never be written.
No one knows what it is
Or where it is
'How it can be? ' is another question
No one can answer.
The poem I did not write today
Never went away
It is always here with me and with you
It is the same simple poem
Written over and over again
In our everyday minds.
It is the poem of love of life
The poem of happiness
The poem of belief in God
And in the goodness in the world to come
It is the poem which believes too that poetry will help save the world.
It is the good poem
The happy poem
The poem I did not write today
Is the poem my life is writing now and always
And with you it says
‘What a miracle it is that we are here
reading and writing
and loving life as we do’.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Alive
I'm wandering the town all light off
I don't know where I'm leaving for
The muddy rain start to fall on me
And I'm walking down to subway
I can't see all around me
Get me out of here
Talk to me if someone is in this darkness
I'm out of my head
Out of my mind
Tell me where I'm what's going on , oh please
Something is hiding me off
Is this the wall of my heart
I have been lost so many things I've got
For long time I've been searching for my way
I carry on, carry on ...
I'm so spiting to their ugly heart
to this so stood world
Everyday I forbear to fall the tears
don't wanna be down
Everynight hurt is so deep in my heart
Is this my life
Oh ! Show me please
The wall close to me
It's so painful. Stop it !
Is there someone to help me
Please get me out of here
Oh ! get me out !
Dead or alive, no place to run
Get it settled once and for all
Dead or alive, can't live in the past
only one way to live.
* Give me heart finishing blow
If I could only turn my back
Let me do screaming high
Squeeze the throes of death for me
It comes here the blame I'd done before
Fall on me as if it grow in my brain
The ugly side of myself tears me up
At this time I can't go back
Give my heart finishing blow
If I couldn't run from the past
Let me do screaming high
Disclose the feeling inside of me
Dead or alive, Can't live in the past
only one way to live
* repeat
The fight is over
the mad rain had gone past over me
blood is flowing down
tear is flowing down
Now I'm alive and I'm walking to town again
song performed by by X JAPAN
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alive
I'm wandering the town all light off
I don't know where I'm leaving for
The muddy rain start to fall on me
And I'm walking down to subway
I can't see all around me
Get me out of here
Talk to me if someone is in this darkness
I'm out of my head
Out of my mind
Tell me where I'm what's going on , oh please
Something is hiding me off
Is this the wall of my heart
I have been lost so many things I've got
For long time I've been searching for my way
I carry on, carry on ...
I'm so spiting to their ugly heart
to this so stood world
Everyday I forbear to fall the tears
don't wanna be down
Everynight hurt is so deep in my heart
Is this my life
Oh ! Show me please
The wall close to me
It's so painful. Stop it !
Is there someone to help me
Please get me out of here
Oh ! get me out !
Dead or alive, no place to run
Get it settled once and for all
Dead or alive, can't live in the past
only one way to live.
* Give me heart finishing blow
If I could only turn my back
Let me do screaming high
Squeeze the throes of death for me
It comes here the blame I'd done before
Fall on me as if it grow in my brain
The ugly side of myself tears me up
At this time I can't go back
Give my heart finishing blow
If I couldn't run from the past
Let me do screaming high
Disclose the feeling inside of me
Dead or alive, Can't live in the past
only one way to live
* repeat
The fight is over
the mad rain had gone past over me
blood is flowing down
tear is flowing down
Now I'm alive and I'm walking to town again
song performed by by X JAPAN
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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He who had been dead was dead no more
‘He's mine' boasted the grave in victory
'He is dead so now he belongs to me'
But Death had forgotten about the One
Who's God's One and Only Belovèd Son.
Jesus had arrived upon that sad scene
giving hope where only despair had been.
'I am the Resurrection and Life, ' said He
'The power of Death is subject to me.'
'Where have you laid him? ' sadly Jesus sighed
'Come and see, Lord, ' both the women replied.
Seeing their helplessness at the graveside
Deep tears of sorrow the Son of God cried.
They opened the tomb, rolled the stone away
Then they heard Jesus in a loud voice say
'Lazarus come out' and amazingly they saw
That he who had been dead was dead no more.
'Remove the grave clothing and let him go'
and each semblance of death was removed so
and His power over death Jesus did show
it that town of Bethany long ago.
Young And In Love
Writers: leo sayer & alan tarney
It's a secret and he tells no one
But his heart leaps like a beating drum
That's how it feels when you're young and in love
She's the reason he smiles all day
Like a bird sings in a gilded cage
That's how it feels when you're young and in love
They promise to be faithful and true
But young love needs no excuse
Like the future it never ends
Young hearts never pretend
That's when you know it's for real
That's how it feels when you're young and in love
That's how it feels when you're young and in love
Four in the morning she creeps down the stair
Runs to the rendevous will he be there
A hand on her shoulder she sighs
And the fear is over now
It's over now
In the moonlight there's a boy and girl
They're the only people in the world
That's how it feels when you're young and in love
But can't you just remember back in time
When the whole world was yours and mine
Maybe a lifetime between then and now
The feeling we shared was for real
That's how it feels when you're young and in love
That's how it feels when you're young and in love
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Single Candle/Death Herself
A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death
Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead
Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death
Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death
Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?
Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see
Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead
A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death
A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials
A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself
A single candle
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Hiroshima Child
I come and stand at every door
But none can hear my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead for I am dead
I'm only seven though I died
In Hiroshima long ago
I'm seven now as I was then
When children die they do not grow
My hair was scorched by swirling flame
My eyes grew dim my eyes grew blind
Death came and turned my bones to dust
And that was scattered by the wind
I need no fruit I need no rice
I need no sweets nor even bread
I ask for nothing for myself
For I am dead for I am dead
All that I need is that for peace
You fight today you fight today
So that the children of this world
Can live and grow and laugh and play
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Sing Poetry Sing
Through a heart to hearts is poetry a thing
Its meter, its rhyme, its beautiful scheme
Doth play to each, by our own voices sing
The poetic soul in poetry our art supreme.
Delicate, immense, a poem doth shape
The unknown soul, the unwritten mystery
Which in each sorrow, must so escape
Our morbid pain of human misery.
Sing poetry sing for our own sake
Construct thy rhythm for our own soul
And by poetry with poem insinuate love and make
The seed that grow and thine love that control
Our uncertain fate, our pain that dominate
For by thine heart and truth we can concentrate.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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One Heart Away
Well you know how much you mean to me
And babe I know how much you really care
But when we talk about eternity
Forever seems to be too much for you to bear
Put your faith in my heart
And tell me you could be mine
Just a minute of your time
I'll pull you closer til I make you mine
If you really love me let's start today
Our love is only one heart away
You say that you've been burned by the flame
And that you're never gonna try love again
But there's just one thing that I need to say
For you to think of me as more than just your friend
When I look in your eyes
I see your heart in mine
Just a minute of your time
I'll pull you closer til I make you mine
If you really love me let's start today
Our love is only one heart away
I don't know what your heart's been thinking
I only know that mine really needs you
We've been together long enough to know
We should just hold on
Just a minute of your time
I'll pull you closer til I make you mine
If you really love me let's start today
Our love is only one heart away
Just a minute of your time
I'll pull you closer til I make you mine
If you really love me let's start today
Our love is only one heart away
song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is A Poem Somewhere
THERE IS A POEM SOMEWHERE
There is a poem somewhere
No one knows
It is written in a language
No one understands
Yet it soothes the soul
And gives hope in life
And tells us that we will live in love forever
There is a poem somewhere
No one knows
Waiting for you and me
Written by a stranger
A poem that will save us.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Tampa
Tampa from those whom sent him,
the back section of their house.
The letter which is written never.
Each judge of his who reads.
Read long in the concrete box.
To be long it has died in remainder,
but because of a certain in order to short-circuit,
excessively why he would know.
There was and his et. al
above everything to they was there lie.
And From Tampa
They Sent him away,
never but always back home.
Letters never written.
Each Judge clever breed.
Reading in a long concrete box.
Too long to be dead
To short too know why.
The kicker
and theirs
Was my lye.
poem by Is It Poetry
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