Write Your Word And Whirl And Whorl
now is the right time
to write your word and whirl and whorl
are you sad? tell me you're not
are you happy? think about it
when someone leaves you
you find it hard to accept and you fetter yourself
with avoidance and denial and anger
now write what you feel on a clean slate
of your new beginning
it is not that you need a drink or a potion
of instant forgetting
there is no such thing honey
there is only that gentle acceptance of the fact
that people do not stay beside us forever
that goodbyes are necessities of life
that deaths are tests that arrivals are just palliatives
that after all, life is here with its sister death
that nature is doublefaced
with nights and days
with stupor and fervor
learn the ways of humanity
for after all that the kind of stuff that we are made of,
bluntness that injures, sharpness that kills,
gentleness that cures, love that heals,
and death that ends and redemption that promises
eternity that hopes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Selfishness And The Human Nature
i write because i feel sympathy for someone
like me, and then
another reason comes which is hard to accept anyway
but just the same i must accept bluntly
that
i write because i also have this sympathy for myself
deprived of the most basic need
of another's person's
genuine affection, because you know very well
how selfish others can be
attending only to what pleases them
and not what pleases
others, it is human nature, we all know it, we accept it,
to get more and give less
to take the pleasures of lust in the guise of love
to leave and not stay
to eat and drink and make love and sleep
forgetting that in any moment
one too is
destined to die
poem by Sebastian Soberania
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
0005 Letter to a Younger Poet
Thanks for your letter. Though
you’ve caught me at a rather awkward time –
I’m going into surgery tomorrow – a rather
risky op; so I’ll try to put all the answers that I’ve got
into this one letter;
I hope you'll understand...
and that helps me to make my first point to you:
write as if you, too, may not live
beyond tomorrow – write as if
it’s the last thing that you’ll ever write –
give it everything you’ve got,
hold nothing back;
or better still – write as if
the world will end for everyone tomorrow:
write so that in their last hours, too, this
will make them feel, will make them know
we’ve faced life fully, faced it so complete
that death is relatively unimportant now…
write as if it were only yesterday
that, in an air crash, all your family –
parents, wife or husband, partner, children, and best friend,
had lost their lives; write as if,
were you not to write,
your heart would break forever, or you would go mad...
write as if you’re writing somewhere
where there’s no such thing around, as ink;
you’ll have to use your own blood in the pen,
so use it carefully; so red, so living,
look at it… so beautiful, so precious,
and so solemn – use it carefully, don’t spill a drop…
write as if you’re borrowing every word
from the very centre of the universe, where suns and gods are made;
and need thus to account for every word
with your whole life, no less; know that every word
must be given back, cleaner, stronger, brighter
with your own power, than when you borrowed it;
write as if every poet that ever lived
is leaning over your shoulder, so that you
can feel their breath upon your neck as they say
‘Tell them all that we would tell,
but cannot now; tell them all of this’…
this, now, is how you must deeply be and speak;
write as if you are the only being on earth
who can tell them this; as if tomorrow, if tomorrow comes,
you shall visit them every one, at home,
and look them in the eye; write as if
you love them more than they will ever know;
write as if you were offering to live their lives with them;
write as if you were a force of nature in yourself:
as if whatever earthquake, hurricane or flood might do,
whatever law or love may greatly do,
whatever gods or men can speak, in fullest force,
this you may do, because the sound of poetry is such;
yes, write ‘as if’ – but know you really write ‘because’…
write as if – no, write because –
you know that only poetry can tell
all, that must be told, and must be known;
and as all hearts melt in the heat of your own love,
be in no doubt – and see that all are in no doubt too –
that life was never, never more serious,
never more glorious, than it is right now;
write all this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Leveling Fields....
we just have to accept the fact
that ultimately we get what we do not really want
or need
and when we have it
we retreat into denial or regret
even blaming the circumstance
other people's fault
this matter stays and won't leave
confronting us that we so rightly deserve this and
that we must accept
it will take time
as time is patient and kind and
always giving as a elbow room for understanding
we have been selfish and will always be
it is our nature
comes the time for reason
and we shall embrace the numbers and arrive at the propriety of
the equation
we have this because we made it
it is there because we so deserve it
life levels up with us
until death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Good to write poems
I want everyone in theworld
To write poems
Poems is the best to happy writing
Anger sad and pain
Which you write it in poems
Heal faster and better
Than any medicine in theworld
Because I know I write
In anger sad pain and much joy
Romance exotic and love
Society reality and life
Religion GOD and fantasia
I write what I feel and heard
Peaceful within, no more hurt or sad
Anger all to happiness and
Forgiveness you find
Solution you get
The joy the fulfillment
The happy feeling and heal
I can’t felt it until each poem I write
poem by See Fee Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I want to love you in all of my days (Italian sonnet)
(after Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
I want to love you in all of my days,
live with you a life that is true and right,
find you next to me in each solemn night,
bring to your humanity and beauty praise,
love you in all of my life's simple ways,
see you day by day smiling very bright,
find with you happiness with candlelight
and then by God's infinite kind of grace,
never a moment in your company loose,
in the hopes of life find a childhood faith
that our love will surpass the bonds of death,
that God's kindness in us, be put to use,
that in His great plan He will us both save,
I love you in every word, deed and breath.
[Reference: "How do I love Thee? Let me count the ways" by Elizabeth Barrett
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hidden Meaning
To death do us part
Does that mean death of the heart
Or growing old in age
That might be like being trapped for all your days
There are too many ways to look at this-but not enough time to comprehend
What this means, and where its meaning ends
Im not sure how to say it
But I’m sure you’ll understand-that it means love and life will exist to the end
Not necessarily together-no not at all
Love grows old and fades away
But some things are here to stay
Love them for all your time, and don’t forget what love was mine
To death do us part; the irony so discreet
And some of us, that irony will meet
When it happens then you’ll know
Why love and death are not one
So death do us part,
What do you say
Is your meaning for now and today
Or will it be for along the way
Until then, I will try
And even see what I can find
Death do us part, I’ll figure you out
And when I do, I’ll find that route
The path between death and love
And see if it intertwines
If it doesn’t then I’ll know
That life and love were meant to grow
To flourish in the great divine
Of course...that love wont be mine
poem by Anna Ragin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And Forever
Forever is impossible to live
Forever is possible when
Death is reached but which life
Forever is no fear of
Death,
Forever is eternity no death
The only cure of old age
Forever is never possible only in death
But forever without death
Is null and void who ever new bff is so sort
The only forever, forever is a simple
Hour glass that’s your life line out of
Time you realize before your time
There no forever the sands of time tell
The truth there is only one
Forever after death heaven the sand of time
Are full and there is forever
poem by Marcellus Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grandma, I Never Knew You
I never knew you
You are my grandmother.
I get mad at God
For not giving me a chance
To know you.
You died ten years
Before I was born.
It breaks my heart
Every time I think
That I will never get
The chance to know you.
I look at your picture that hangs
Almost everyday.
I wonder if I have your eyes.
I wonder if I have your laugh.
I wonder if I have your smile.
I wonder if I have your nose.
I wonder if I have anything of you.
I guess I will never know
I guess I will never get to see you.
Death is the most tragic thing in life
Death is hard on me now than I was younger.
Death is what I have inside
Thinking of everyone that I have lost.
Death is forever
Death is longer than an eternity
Death is permanent
Death is a scar that never goes away.
Death is what I feel everyday
Death is what has to be.
Death is what is happening everyday.
Death is what no one knows for sure.
Death is what everyone goes through.
Death is the reason why I am the way I am
Death is what I fear…
poem by Kimberly Santistevan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Fact Is, In The World Of Lies, Life Is Fair
accept the fact that sometimes we say things
that we do not mean, that sometimes we burst in anger
and we hurt and then we apologize that we do not really mean to hurt
sometimes we show feelings too that we do not really want to express.
sometime we say 'i love you' and yet we are just compelled to do so
someone is dying and he needs you badly at the end of her day.
sometimes, accept the fact, that time strains us and we become
the liars, the hypocrites, the fraud, and the swindler.
and most of all, we keep it for a time, making some stares straight in the eye.
accept this fact, we are humans and in some harsh times
we decide, to survive, at all costs, no matter what.
now, we shall talk, and you shall listen and i shall write about the truth
of this fact. we are us conjoined twins in the art of deception.
lie to me as i lie to you and then we accept this fact: life is fair.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Do Poets Write
(just written)
Why do poets write, a question that I wonder.
I’ve asked myself that question over a thousand times.
And I always come up with the same answer
It’s because we are blind.
We accept all that we see constant, as the daily norm.
But I cannot accept it, it’s not where I belong.
There are questions to be answered that we must write about
We’ll climb the highest mountain, and to the world we will shout.
Why is the sky blue? Why is the ocean deep?
Why is the mountain high? Why do we weep?
We have been given everything man could possibly need
This is the reason GOD had planted the seed.
We are the only creatures that have a mind to think
But when we do not use it, we can lose in in a wink.
We as poets see all the beauties that are around
We will write about it, without even making a sound
We will also see the suffering, for not everything in
Life is a bed of flowers, for people are dying
Each and every hour.
There are too many topics for us to write about
War, poverty, hunger, sickness, just to name a few
We can’t write about everything, what are we supposed to do.
So I look around to all that surround me
Then I pick a topic of which I do not foresee.
I put myself in that position of what I am writing about
If it’s about pregnancy, I will feel her aches and pains
And by doing this there is knowledge that I gain.
Life is two sided of that there is no doubt.
Rich, poor, happy, sad, love, hate, boy, girl,
Life, death, all in suits of twos
All this excites me, but which one will I choose?
Why do poets write? now you tell me?
maybe it’s just because we love the poetry.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Please take another vow dear
i have given all your need, i have shared what i have in my life
i prostate myself and swear to God and men to love you tell
beyond death, it is a promise. a covenant. a vow that leads
my life to complete my direction of destiny
giving is just a thing to forget, sharing is but a thing to be taken
loving is something that unite our hearts, it is ochastrated in
our soul, beyond a sounding joy of enchantment in heaven
a threshold to remember, and never be to be closed, a memory of
thy soul that life we taste is abode of expactacular miracle beauty,
a lingering happiness, where an endless joy stay
rejoice my dear, all makes the best for everything, a mirror of what
is life should be, a beginning that always wait for a happy ending,
where all has to continue life in an transcendental process of living
our own life
happiness conquer death, its the beginning of an endless birth of
a new life, and pain is eminent to accept, for seeing with
nothing to feel, my soul leaves but the heart i give lives in your
heart
in your solitude, as you stay, please take another vow, for only you
felt the vacuum cause by my pain, let your heart be strong, and live
life to where you belong
as i go, remember that my heart is only for you, and make the best
to live life, for you and the vow you say ' I do', i may be gone but i
live in your memory that their is only someone that.....loves.......
you most
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bare Necessities
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old Mother Nature's recipes
That brings the bare necessities of life
Wherever I wander, wherever I roam
I couldn't be fonder of my big home
The bees are buzzin' in the tree
To make some honey just for me
When you look under the rocks and plants
And take a glance at the fancy ants
Then maybe try a few
The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
That's why a bear can rest at ease
With just the bare necessities of life
Now when you pick a pawpaw
Or a prickly pear
And you prick a raw paw
Next time beware
Don't pick the prickly pear by the paw
When you pick a pear
Try to use the claw
But you don't need to use the claw
When you pick a pear of the big pawpaw
Have I given you a clue ?
The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!
So just try and relax, yeah cool it
Fall apart in my backyard
'Cause let me tell you something little britches
If you act like that bee acts, uh uh
You're working too hard
And don't spend your time lookin' around
For something you want that can't be found
When you find out you can live without it
And go along not thinkin' about it
I'll tell you something true
The bare necessities of life will come to you
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
That's why a bear can rest at ease
With just the bare necessities of life
The bare necessities of life will come to you
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Wit's All Been Done Before
I wish I could, innovate,
And try to stretch your minds,
Cause often times, when guys like me,
Do that they leave themselves behind,
To clean a mess, or to impress,
A little bit of everyone,
But to innovate, is a mistake,
Cause there's nothing new under the sun.
Cause we're all getting tired of the media,
Cause it tries too hard to make you write something,
Cause we're all getting tired of the media,
Cause creating something new is just recycling,
Wit, wit's all been done before,
Yeah we do something to death,
Then we dig it up just to do it some more.
In all my lines of warning signs,
But not all with dead ends,
And I'm not sure if the clever words,
All sit well with my friends,
But I will not just sit and watch,
And me the victim fall,
I'll just have to do,
What my gut tells me to,
And hope that you will buy it all.
Cause we're all getting tired of the media,
Cause it tries too hard to make you write something,
Cause we're all getting tired of the media,
Cause creating something new is just recycling,
Wit, wit's all been done before,
Yeah we do something to death,
Then we dig it up just to do it some more,
Wit, wit's all been done before,
Yeah we do something to death,
Then we dig it up just to do it some more.
Originality is a ghost town,
And it's oh so hard to get to,
And waiting until, then people start to hate you,
You scream what you believe out loud in a crowd,
And they will hate you,
Cause repetition's just so safe,
And repetition's just like prison,
And I prefer to be out of place,
Cause I'm not really into prison.
Wit, wit's all been done before,
Yeah we do something to death,
Then we dig it up just to do it some more,
Cause we're all getting tired of the media,
Cause it tries too hard to make you write something,
Cause we're all getting tired of the media,
Cause creating something new is just recycling,
Wit, wit's all been done before,
Yeah we do something to death,
Then we dig it up just to do it some more,
Wit, wit's all been done before,
Yeah we do something to death,
Then we dig it up just to do it some more.
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
No one said
No one said,
death can cause so much pain,
but it changes the way people look and how they feel,
No one said,
death can fog the way,
people look at life,
No one said,
as soon as you accept death,
you will have no worry's about life,
As a matter of fact,
No one talk's about death anymore,
weather it scares them,
of it hurt's them,
No one says death.
~Alexandra~
poem by Alexandra robert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
D e a t h
Well we don’t know do we?
You asked me to write something
about it and I said,
I have nothing to say…
maybe that’s a better place to start.
So should we keep a curtained silence
about it? Stuff cottonwool in that wound
that never quite heals, once made?
Or run down the street, knocking bang bang at all the doors,
shouting tell me about death… and
before that stranger knocks at your own door
and the face is strangely familiar, as if
you’ve been expecting someone, but
weren’t sure what they’d look like…
One thing is certain, in its breezy way:
you’ll be the one who knows least about it
when it happens; but hopefully
the one who knows most about it
after it’s happened…
We could be rather Irish about it,
say, it’s a crying pity you’ll be missing
the wake… but look at it this way,
the funeral won’t cost you a penny…
I’m told that the other day,
a friend of a friend said
whoopee I’m going on holiday…
I guess that would have made for
a rather merrier funeral
as we say now, no dear not a funeral,
a celebration of her life…
but there’s still that moment
of awful mediocrity, when
the coffin begins to move, and it’s half,
this is it, and half, we’re doing this
with discreet good taste, so
you don’t have to notice it… ha…
Then, some like to know beforehand what
they hope just might be known,
visit comfy mediums to ask about
those loved ones who’ve just passed over, is it, dear? …
they make it sound like a well-run care home:
it’s really very nice here, you’ll like it…
they sound as if they’re still wearing
the woollie that you knitted, and it’s tea cups chinking
and a chat about old times.
For the truly religious, of course,
it’s glory day, and so it should:
they’ve made the will, cleaned the house,
given away all that they’ve collected over the years,
said goodbyes; mopped all the tears;
the bags are packed and waiting in the hall,
their conscience clear. This is the moment
when what it’s all about, is what it’s all about..
envy them – their soul is clean, shriven was the old word for it,
their lifetime has been but a preparation,
a walk from one pure spring of grace
to a glorious river full of grace..
so here’s a suggestion: in your mind,
bring together all you’ve loved in all your life –
teddy bear, dolls, kittens, puppies, horses,
maybe even parents… best friends, lovers,
strangers who were unexpectedly kind to you,
friends you hope you’ll never lose,
places that you were forever happy in,
times of happiness that you’ll never forget,
and those strange moments when
you knew you knew something just so great,
but didn’t know exactly what it was you knew…
those moments when time stood still, and
didn't seem to matter any more, because
the where and when that you were in, was forever..
then add to this, all you’ve been, should be
grateful for; all the things you would have praised
more loudly; everyone, but everyone, you love; see
the world as full of wonders unexplained;
see glory everywhere, and yourself
the centre of all that…
stay there.. then what is Death – apart
from what will surely be – compared
to all that glory which is your true self…
go on, admit it… me, I see it shine in you…
what shines in your eternally young eyes
is something that can never die…
Maybe we’ll talk of this some more,
now that we’ve tried to talk about it…
you asked me; this is the best that I can do;
you asked me; this, with all my love, for you..
[A poem written by request]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An acrostic poem for micheal.
Manyatimes i wonder how this life will be
If we were made to stay in this world forever
Counting the years without growing old
Having all what we want and ask for
Ever ready to do things according to his will
Accepting the fact that he made us
Lo, we owe him our submission
Surely that wont happen because, if we
Have all what we want, our
Eagerness to have more will come, we never be
Ready to do what is right before God.
People grow old, and as they do they learn,
Except there has being a new invention in science
Right or wrong, if we were made to stay here forever,
Definitely, it will not be meaningful because of the non existence of death.
poem by Austin Jeffrey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Meaning of Death
when a poet writes of death
don't take it literally
death has many meanings
which differ significantly
to a poet death might mean
death of a past
which is a new beginning
one that might last
death to a poet is life
time to start a new chapter
turn the page
turn sadness into laughter
to a poet death is a new start
ending of strife
closing, locking the doors
of their old life
death has so many meanings
not only for a poet
all parts of life leads to death
some just don't know it
death means change
chance for a new beginning
put the past behind
stop losing, start winning
so to a poet
death is not always bad
we must write our feelings
whether good or sad
p.s.not sure this makes much sense
but i was buzzed ;)
poem by Sandy Nobody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!