When you ask me to read your poem
There is this gleaming brightness
Inside my mind
This momentary flash of light
A short flicker
My eyes are shiny looking wet with tears
The page glistens
The words move
To and fro and I have predicted where they all stop
Frozen and steady still like mannequins
I throw my glance like a ping-pong ball
Bouncing back
I only peeked in fact
I have not seen anything interesting
The two poems
The poem you write that you ask me to read
Is the same poem I wrote recently
How come?
There is a tiny, quick flash of light
Inside my mind
Did it come from the same God?
We need to sit and talk
To discuss the sameness of our boredoms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
18 Definitions Of A Short Poem
1) A short poem
Saves time,
2) A short poem
Saves time
For its reader, also.
3) A short poem is over
Before its read.
4) A short poem
Can be swiftly reread.
5) A short poem
Is a lightning flash.
6) A short poem
Is one metaphor only.
7) A short poem
Is less than nine words.
8) A short poem
Opens ones eyes
In the morning.
9) A short poem
May be a short prayer.
10) A short poem
May be a poem of a single word.
11) Poem.
12) A short poem
A small play on words.
13) A short poem
May be a single sentence.
14) A short poem is shorter
Than the definition of it.
15) It breaks up the icy sea within.
16) A chill down the spine.
17) There is no end
To making definitions of the short poem.
18) A short poem in Hebrew
Is shorter than than the same poem in English.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Lost The Poem I Wrote In My Mind
I LOST THE POEM I WROTE IN MIND
I lost the poem I wrote in my mind
When walking to Shul this morning-
I can only try to recall its thoughts;
‘Walk too fast and the mind cannot hear itself
Walk slowly and listen to the poem inside yourself.
The road ahead the trees the sky
Has a beauty too great for you to write
Thank God for your sight.”
The best lines are forever gone-
A poem to replace a poem
Is not as good as the original-
I wish I had the words for all the beauty God gives me in my life
How wonderful it is to be alive- sometimes
And to be able to write poems – even if somewhat poorly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scribbler's Stymie
Pen and paper in sight
I've got no poem to write
Staying up all night
I've got no poem to write
Although my mind is bright
I've got no poem to write
It's windy out tonight, should I go fly a kite?
I've got no poem to write
My ceiling, it is white
I've got no poem to write
It's 4: 59! Five, but not quite
I've got no poem to write
In your arms I'd feel so light
I've got no poem to write
I've had no sleep tonight
I've got no poem to write
Will you just hold me tight?
I've got no poem to write
Outside it's almost light
I've got no poem to write
It's late, off goes my light
I've got no poem to write
poem by Julia Grace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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!
The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been
THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN
The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Should I Have A Poem?
WHY SHOULD I HAVE A POEM?
Why should I have a poem?
Who am I to have a poem?
Who is anyone to have a poem?
But then again
Aren’t we all poems?
Many poems
And each one of us many voices
And who knows how deep feelings
We ourselves cannot understand
And lingerings of beauty
We can ourselves barely decipher?
Who knows what a poem is
And what life means
And why we write and read
And what words move us
In the middle of the night
Or at the end of the day
When even our dreams are asleep?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hats off to Leprous!
Almost all of us
are hagiographers
while judging poems.
But my friend Leprous
has offered his nice remarks
to my poem on the Versifier.
In my dreams and elsewhere
When I am going,
his words flash in my mind,
making me laugh aloud
and people look at me askance.
I try to recall short maxims
for replacing his words but fail.
Those who shed tears in all of your poems,
ask him please to comment.
And you will be smiling for ever!
----------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Poem Which Is Not A Poem
THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM
There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
Its heart is too much in thought.
It does not sing us to somewhere else.
There is a poem which is not a poem
Prosaic confessional flat,
Its says its single thing from the soul
And leaves the page without implication.
How many such poems have I written
As I write this one now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Poem Is An Original
No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.
Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.
Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.
Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.
Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.
So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.
wrote 2-2-07
What Would You Like
Tell me you name, tell me your sign.
Please tell me that my mind is right.
I just want to take you to my home.
Where we can talk by a fire all alone.
There's just one thing that I need to know.
Could you ever be there when I woke up,
Or will you be just another and be gone?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I take one look at you and my heart can't stop smiling.
It begins to display on the outside and my lips curl up.
Looking at you from across the void I can see my life with you.
You take a glance at me and can't help but notice to.
I walk around the corner and fade out of your sight.
I love playing this game.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
You chase me around the corner at the end of the aisle.
And we both meet each other eye to eye.
My hands behind my back.
Can you guess what I've got in mind.
Oh I think you'll be suprized.
You look at me and begin to smile.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
I see the moonlight fall across your face as you sleep.
I take one look at you as my fingers gently stroke your cheek.
You breathe in and breathe out and stir awake.
Looking up at me and smiling all the while.
I bend down and kiss you ever so slowly.
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
My lips want to take in every taste it can.
My fingers what to rub your smooth skin.
My eyes want to see all your love dep inside.
And no matter how hard I try.
My mind can't comprehend the beauty within.
If I bought you a dozen roses would you fall in love?
If I wrote you that special love poem would you kiss me tight?
If I took you to a lakeside of of a romantic dinner would you stay the night?
Would you like the candle's flickering lights?
Would you like the expressions of my words rolling off my tongue?
Would you come be with me even though the night's young?
Would you like the kiss that takes the breath away deep within your lungs?
Would you want to be with me through the rest of your life?
Would you want to be with my heart through the beating might?
Would you want to grab my hands and love me through all the bad time?
Would you want to hug me in the anger of emotions and try to fight?
Would you stand within my heart and dance in the spotlight?
Would you like to be with me through the whole night?
Should I buy you a dozen roses?
Should I write you a love poem,
Of how my heart can't stop beating for you?
Should I take you to a lakeside with a romantic dinner?
Would you like candle light flickering in front of us?
Would you like the lovely words that could roll off my tongue?
Would you like me to express how much you mean to me?
Would you like that soft romantic music in the background?
poem by Josh Burnett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Was It You Who Wrote Some Poems?
it happens in a crowd
or a party or a reunion
to be exact and short of
any dialogue
you ask,
was it you
who wrote some
poems?
and i say
yes
and i ask why?
and you say
oh i like every poem
there
and i ask
which ones?
the one about love
or passion
or compassion
or was it the poem
that hurts
and makes
one feel the
urge to kill oneself?
and you say
i like the
sad ones
those that
make me cry
and think
of my broken heart
and i say
i never wrote
sad poems
and you say
you swear
i have read
the sad ones
and i really cried
alone
and i say,
i never wrote
them
they write themselves
and i do not really cry anymore
and you say
really?
and i say: i am numb.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ping Pong
(Dolly Parton)
Ping pong
I use to like
Ping pong
Now I'm in a ding dong, ping pong game of love with you
Ping pong
It scares me now
Ping pong
My heart is the ball in a ding dong, ping pong game with you
I serve it to you
And you knock it back
You hit it so hard, hard, hard
Its startin' to crack
Ping pong
You're smashed again
Ping pong
And I'm losing this ding dong, ping pong game of love with you
I serve it to you
And you knock it back
You hit it so hard, hard, hard
Its starting to crack
Ping pong
You're smashed again
Ping pong
I'm losing this ding dong, ping pong game of love with you
Ping pong
I use to like
Ping pong
Now I'm in a ding dong, ping pong game of love with you
Ping pong
It scares me now...
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like So Many Poems I Read
LIKE SO MANY POEMS I READ
Like so many poems I read
These poems I am reading now
Are not poems to me.
They are too detached
Too abstract
Too up in the air.
I want to hear the words
Make a music of feeling
In my soul.
A poem must move me
If it is to be real.
Why then do I write these words
as if a poem?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A poem for you...
I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem I Wrote Yesterday/ The Poem I Write Today
THE POEM I WROTE YESTERDAY/THE POEM I WRITE TODAY
The poem I wrote yesterday
The poem I write today
The poem I will write tomorrow
What do they all mean?
Life goes on
Even my life will go on for a time
Without them.
True they give me hope now
But hope is another kind of delusion-
Creature of hopes and dreams delusions and poems
I go on now writing another poem hoping that you somewhere
Will want to know and read and remember it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Is Always With Me
THE POEM IS ALWAYS WITH ME
The poem is always with me
It waits inside.
And when it wants to be heard
It asks me to write it down.
Sometimes I say it,
Sometimes I hear it within myself silently,
Sometimes it goes away
When I go elsewhere for a while.
The poem is always in me
But sometimes it goes away
And is lost forever.
How many poems have I lost?
And how many poems have I never written down
That I should have?
And how many times have I written down
What is not a poem for anyone,
Except for the one who seems to need
A poem inside
All the time
So much?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0009 Favorite Poem
and you can’t remember much
about the first time you read it except
that it held you to the end, but most of all
this one line, which seemed to hold
the key to the whole poem
as if you were opening the closet of your mind
to bring out something which you knew was there
but instead something way at the back
called to you and you remembered
a moment from way back you thought
you had forgotten
and then you read the poem again
in company with the poet and
yes that’s it, and the two of you
became friends for life, almost
related.
So, now you’ve read all their poems,
feel some more than others but
as if you wrote them all in the same room
where you read them together
and you wait for their new book with
a sorta family pride
and like family,
you leave the poems for a spell,
grow up a little, then
come back to visit -
they mean more;
can it be,
you've both grown?
each time you come back to them
you carry them more close to you
in fact you feel that you could write
poems very much like theirs
as if you’d inherited, too,
the family gift
and though you wouldn’t of course
seek them out in person except
in a reading where you’d
have to share their warmth
with the rest of their extended family
but not say much since
you are a, well, close relative,
if you happened to be driving a route
not far from them, you’d detour,
park a little distance from their house,
but have it in your sight,
hope you might catch a movement,
wait a few minutes, then
start the car with almost a sigh
half relieved that you didn’t have to try
on their cautiously polite doorstep
to find words to say
you love them in their words,
which you almost wrote together,
lived them together;
love them like life itself,
love them
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Morning Poem Did Not Come
THE MORNING POEM DID NOT COME
The morning poem did not come-
So this is the effort of an afternoon poem,
Warm and sun- filled and relaxing and deep and waiting.
This is a poem between times more interesting than itself.
The light is so great now.
But this too is a poem of little or nothing to say
Of afternoon emptiness after morning emptiness
On a tired tired day.
Once I thought I would write poems which would make immortal
Those I love.
Now I write poems to keep myself going.
This afternoon I am extremely tired
But if this is poem
Or even if I only think it is
I can have a rest
Before I face the evening.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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