A Poets Era
They whispered as thunder clapped
and the rain fell
the bird hid as they songs
were awfully silent
nothing was said as the
television remained silent
the creatures stayed and stared
as the all stayed mouth open
pen to paper he wrote
the night were cold
and day brutal
sleep cometh not to these
eyes as my hand shake
retired from it all
fell sick as i stand tall
had to come back
said it was my last
but the mind of a poet
just refuse to quit
inspiration ran through
my veins as my body ache
the books took dust
but they story they tell
now pen to paper i see
when i write people listen
and through that peace evolves
so pen to paper its glad to say
In the dawn of my day
and the silence of the night
a poet time is never ended
cause in death our tale still tells
so my time is an era to be told
so here i go
poem by Robert Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
0027 In Honour of Honour and WHAuden
You asked me which of Auden’s poems
were my favourite, and I sighed
for memory’s fade, then walked to the dusty shelf
where next to those volumes of Eliot
with their brown-paper covers for those
precious wartime books allowed
a ration of Canadian paper for
fighting men to read in those
few moments of leisure for the open heart and
the vision of a peacetime world, was
‘Collected Shorter Poems 1930-1944 W.H.Auden’
which fell open at page 54,
‘In Memory of W.B.Yeats (d.January 1939) ’
‘Earth, receive an honoured guest…’;
those pages yellowed more than
the others around them as if
read often late at night
under what was still gaslight
with respectful but unwashed hands
after cocoa and biscuits with a scrape of butter
and it all came back: 1953, that was the year
when there was only one poet Yeats..
and poetry and music were the same;
I turned the pages – they fell open once again,
‘Time will say nothing but I told you so’…
So many poems there, unread, or unremembered,
how could it be that I abandoned Auden,
not hearing his music, while
other interests began to pull?
Then I sat silent at the thought
that a great poet of great mind, great heart,
was writing, writing, most of my lifetime
while I was wrapt in other things;
sat silent, honouring
what is to be honoured
as best we can;
what is to be honoured.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Once Again I Write...
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
I write to save my sanity.
I write to ease my heart.
I write to cleanse my soul.
I write to feel alive.
I write to keep my mind strong and my thoughts clear.
I write my words of sorrow, despair, pain, and love, as well as words of wisdom.
I write so that one day someone will truly know me.
This paper, this pen is once again my inspiration.
It is the inspiration to what I see.
It is the inspiration to what I hear.
It is the inspiration to what I feel.
It is the inspiration to the art I create.
It is the inspiration to what I draw.
It is the inspiration to the love for my daughter.
It is the inspiration to the love for my husband.
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
Once again I write to say thank you my timeless friends.
Thank you for saving me time and time again.
poem by Sara Jo Andrews
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All She Wrote
Something's wrong with your mind
It won't think of me anymore
Was it all a waste of time
Tell me why was I such a chore
Broken glass lies empty
Cut my voice so I can't say
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Lying here in your bed
The one that you liked to do it in
Pieces of long brown hair
Are all over it and still in my brain
I can't explain
What it's like not knowing if I'll ever cross your mind
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Sleep through the day
Fight with the night
Seven a.m. and the tv is white
Covered in snow
I never knew that hell could get so cold
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Something's wrong with your mind
It won't think of me anymore
Was it all a waste of time
song performed by by Default
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cadence And Cascade
Cadence and Cascade
Kept a man named Jade;
Cool in the shade
While his audience played.
Purred, whispered, "Spend us too:
We only serve for you".
Sliding mystified
On the wine of the tide
Stared pale-eyed
As his veil fell aside.
Sad paper courtesan
They found him just a man.
Caravan hotel
Where the sequin spell fell
Custom of the game.
Cadence oiled in love
Licked his velvet gloved hand
Cascade kissed his name.
Sad paper courtesan
They knew him just a man.
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cadence & Cascade
Cadence and cascade
Kept a man named jade;
Cool in the shade
While his audience played.
Purred, whispered, spend us too:
We only serve for you.
Sliding mystified
On the wine of the tide
Stared pale-eyed
As his veil fell aside.
Sad paper courtesan
They found him just a man.
Caravan hotel
Where the sequin spell fell
Custom of the game.
Cadence oiled in love
Licked his velvet gloved hand
Cascade kissed his name.
Sad paper courtesan
They knew him just a man.
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paper
Paper promises, Dunstead said,
paper cups, wallpaper being stuck
up on the wall for the next to last
time, paper tigers, paper to wipe
the ass and best of all paper to
create art, to have it from the heart,
to see it out there, being gazed at,
studied by some bearded guy with
glasses and paper money to buy
the next paper to create and then
if I’m lucky the muse turning up on
time and giving me the big nudge
in the right direction or some paper
picture of some nude dame giving
the long time wished for erection.
poem by Terry Collett
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Dots
A dot on paper was analyzed
The lawyer viewed such evidence
For all legalities, scrutinized
Then ably wrote his structured defense.
'The dot is proof of serious grime
No doubt there was intrusion
Allow me to pinpoint the morbid crime
That will lead to the prosecution.'
Next came the languid aging preacher,
He searched for erroneous doctrine
Examined the pristine paper
And the corrupting dot therein.
'There is much here spiritually
The white of paper was transgressed,
It is the dot of immorality
And repentance must be addressed.'
Just then a young poet passed by
He viewed the subject paper closely
A sudden twinkle met his eye
He began to write vigorously.
'Oh paper fair so pure and white!
Thy presence blessed with a single dot,
Such beautiful partnership in sight
For words to praise thee, I know not!
What bond is there compatible?
Imagination cannot hold!
A woven story in that scribble
With dots, poetry can be told.'
December 6,2009
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Silence Vavroovahana Patra
Silence reign sat night;
All creatures rest with delight.
Poet’s pen poems delightfully;
All derive mental peace gaily.
Night is freed from worries, anxieties;
Men, women rest with delight.
Devotees, poets live peacefully;
Pray goddess gleefully.
Night’s lap is silent;
People derive peace, merriment.
Poets derive peace at night;
Mind derives peace from silence with delight.
God’s creation is beautiful;
Creatures are delightful.
Anxieties vanishes from person;
Delightful becomes God’s creation.
Poet surrenders on the feet of mother;
She is life’s operator.
Is our Generator;
Is our path shower.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Asking Myself Why
I sat down to write a letter
to an old friend of mine,
someone I had not seen
for thirty or forty years.
Only realizing as I put pen to paper
how the years had flown by,
though it only seem like yesterday
we had met on the street
and had a long chat together.
I realized then to my regret
that I did not know if
they were alive or dead.
If they were gone,
yet another thread to my past
had disappeared forever.
A curtain of sadness fell over me
as my memories re-enacted
moments from so long ago,
moments that will never return.
My pen hovered above the paper
and no words could I write
as my mind clouded with memories
of friends I had let go.
It's so easy to say see you later,
when half the time we never do.
Then comes today like now
and you realise there maybe no later.
Those friends of yesterday maybe gone
and only reside within your memories.
Tears glazed my eyes
and I gave a silent sigh.
I wondered how may more times
will I ask myself why
in the passing of time.
Why I just sat and let them go.
25 February 2012
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You are the poet
Poet is a journalist
Watches the feelings
Watches the emotions
Watches the world
Watches the light and
Watches the dark
He thinks everywhere
Others can’t imagine
-o-
Chasing the thoughts
Searching the words
Forming the sentences
To give the expression
To put the life in it
-o-
Poet is like a cook
Collecting good ingredients
Cooking the feelings to
Present in better way
-o-
Poet is like a soldier
Fighting in the war and
Fighting with the self
Feeling the pain and
Bleeding the emotions
Making room for self
To express the story
To save the people
-o-
Poet is like mother
Cooking the soft food
Feeding smoothly
Treating the readers like his own kids
Reader’s happiness is poet’s happiness
If you can’t praise, no problem
But don’t forget to acknowledge
-o-
Poet is the center of universe
Editors, Music directors,
Composers, singers, musicians,
Media everybody is rotating around
-o-
Poet writes to quench intellectuals
Poet writes to entertain good listeners
Poet writes to move hearts
Poet writes for a cause
Poet write for entertainment
Poets write to express themselves
Poets write to share their feelings
-o-
When time is running
Poem is the history
In present it reflects the story
Poem gives the hope in future
-o-
Poet is the planter
Plants seeds into your hearts
Make sure that it sprouts
Brings the thoughts into actions
-o-
Poet is the director behind your actions
Poet is the motivator behind your feelings
Poet is the coach who puts you on track
Poet is person whom your heart likes
-o-
Poet is the soldier when he uses poem as bullet
Poet is the coach when his poem moves your heart
Poet is the love, when he gives poem as flower
Poet is the parent, when he consoles you in your troubles
Poet is the healer who heals souls
Poet enters different roles
To justify the poem and to justify the people
-o-
Poem is the form of literature
We can find in holy books
Poem is the feelings
Poem touches the hearts
-o-
Sun can be seen in day
Moon can be seen in night
But poem is there day and night
Poem is powerful than nature
Poem don’t have life and death
Just it flows from heart to heart
Poet is the instrument
In the hands of the poem
-o-
If you drink a cup of alcohol
It may stay there just for hours
If you read a good poem
Nobody knows how long it gives the kick
-o-
When you have time, read a good poem
When you have time, write some poetry
When you have time, share a poem
-o-
You will be the poet, when you read a poem
You will be the poet, when you put on paper
You can be the poet to change your self
You can be the poet to change the world
You must be a poet, to enjoy this life
Waiting for you, to listen to your poem
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
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Be My Rain
When you fell into my arms
Appearing so frail, if you ever were
And you told me a thousand things
I've never dreamt about
When your eyes fell grey
Could it be I made them shine for awhile?
Now you're gone, as if you ever meant to stay
Be my rain
Be my rain
To wash the pain and the truth away
Be my rain
Be my rain
Embrace my world, everlasting
We were talking through the night
No one could say a word
Of what had passed or should be said
As if time stood silent,
The dawn never came
And the skies are empty
Since we stopped
Far away,
We cannot share the love within us
You're far away,
And rising up to start
again
song performed by by Zeraphine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Experience Of You
i have progressed
in the satisfaction of my desire
i started with the flesh
oh! it was memorable
your lips and tongue satiated me for years
your firm body & supple breasts were so useful
and i had it to the full
but it did not end there
of course
what i had later were the bones
and sockets of your eyes
and dried veins of you once
beautiful body
it is terrible to think
about this reality!
i remained to be your lover
the faithful and consistent one
and what remained of you was dust
and i ask myself
was i that foolish to stay longer here
and love dust
all my life?
and then the wind came and blew you away
scattered whatever were you
on the trees and the seas
and what i have of you is nothing
i can use my imagination to make you stay
but i have become so mad and fickle
i must forget you
but i cannot
i nurture the spot where those dusts stayed once
i am empty
i am incomplete
and this is the end of the story
i wish upon death
one night to come
and get me at once.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hobo Song
There was a time
When lonely men would wander
Thru this land
Rolling aimlessly along
So many times
Ive heard of their sad story
Written in the words
Of dead mens songs.
Down through the years
Many men have yearned
For freedom
Some found it
Only on the open road
So many tears of blood
Have fell around us
cause you cant always do what you are told.
Please tell me where
Have all the hobos gone to
I see no fire burning down
By the rusty railroad track
Could it be that time
Has gone and left them
Tied up in lifes eternal traveling sack.
Last sunday night
I wrote a letter
To my loved one
I signed my name
And knew Id stayed away
Too long
There was a time
When my heart was free to wander
And I remember as I sing
This hobo song.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Storm
The clouds turned to gray
The air turned to cold
And I knew by that day
Some evil would unfold.
It arrived without a warning
Along with the pounding rain
And it was gone by the morning
As violently as it came.
But for that night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
Violently came the wind
Terrorizing with no form
Then came the thunder and lightning,
Arriving, was the storm.
Many trees I saw bent
Then God clapped his mighty hand
While many trees were refusing to fall,
But then, a tree didn't stand.
Rushing came the wind
Pounding came the rain
Crashing came the thunder
Quickly, came my pain.
Underneath my bed I hid
From the terror of the storm
And in pain and terror I cried
In horror and pain I moaned.
That night I lived in terror
That night I lived in fright
With every sound I heard
With every flash of light.
And the rain just kept falling
More tears I began to weep
For the wind just kept calling,
Then that night; I fell asleep.
Then morning she finally came
I awoke to the sound of peace and birds
The sound of thunder and rain was gone
Which had awoke my sleeping world.
Then outside towards the sky I stared,
To the clouds God he did call
I saw Gods hand moving the wind
Commanding the rain not to fall.
Then the sun began to shine
So on my knees I fell to pray
Then again, I began to cry
Thanking God; the storm had went away.
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Looks Like Rain
I stand at the window
Looking out, looking out at the grey
After getting up and reading the paper today
Sometimes I just want to crawl back in bed
Pull the covers over my eyes
This world is so full of trouble
All the war planes in the sky
Chorus:
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
And it looks like rain
Dont it make you wonder
Killers make the front page
Good deeds go unnoticed
Seems like, like theres no change
No matter what the vote is
It used to be we were
All looking out for everybody else
But now it seems the only law is
Every man for himself
(chorus)
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
It looks like rain
Dont it make you
And it looks like rain
Falling down my eyes
It looks like rain
Dont you wonder why
I hear, hear it pounding
In the courtrooms and halls
I hear, hear it sounding
Through these paper-thin walls
I can hear people lying under oath
Lovers breaking their vows
I dont want to give up hope
Is it too late now
Chorus:
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
It looks like rain
Dont it make you
And it looks like rain
Falling down my eyes
It looks like rain
Dont you wonder why
And it looks like rain
Cant you hear the thunder
It looks like rain
Dont it make you
It looks like rain
(repeat chorus and fade)
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Calligraphy of God
Wet ink. Dry paper.
Words in heart.
Eyes focused.
No distractions.
Quiet. Sssh....
You could hear a pin drop.
Silence!
Silent.
Creativity in play.
Ingenuity in motion.
Silent.
See nothing. See everything.
As light pierces darkness.
Focus.1,2,3.
Flame to dust
Dust to man
Man to dust.
Stop.
'It is good', a voice echoes in eternity.
Day by day, I go my way
Man from ape. I close my drape.
Ordinary man, no superman cape.
That's it! , no more rhyme.
Truth be told this life's a mess.
Been through rough, tough, hell and
back.
'What's life's essence? '
So I search.
Then I find Him.
He who sat at the beginning.
Wet ink.
Dry paper.
Loads of questions.
Loads of hate.
Tons of bitterness.
This life's been a wilderness.
'I am The Artist', a voice whispers.
You're my masterpiece
I mend broken pieces
The one who makes beauty from ashes.
The clock ticks life away.
I wake up to a brand new day.
This life's neither brand nor new.
Try screwed!
Now messed up and fessed up by pain
relationships.
All's crashing! Help!
'You need help? ', an acquaintance asks.
'With what? '
'The weight on your shoulders', she
replies.
Walking on. Mind made up. This is it.
It ends tonight.
Beep. Beep. The ECG sounds.
Back on bed. Plastic on face.
O2 in. CO2 out. Eyes pop.
Still alive huh?
Lonely. Ached. Tired.
Broken. Sad. Depressed. Sane/Insane? /
From the salt of the marrow a scream
echoes in eternity.
'Heaven save me! ! ! '
The cold night calls
The tears fall like rain
Wet ink. Wet paper.
I make all things beautiful in its time
A smirk shows.
Ink continues flowing from left to right
Pendulum swings. Time takes flight.
Found Him. Found life.
For while human beings must be known
to be loved,
Divine beings must be loved to be
known.
Mud here. Mud there. Michelangelo's
jealous.
Yellow here. Gray there. Picasso's green
with envy.
Comma here. Dot there. Stephen King
takes a bow.
For love's written a story
And though it be sometimes gory
And life seems to lose it's glory
Take a minute
And picture being the art of the Infinite
The one who's got no limit
Though we run and chase cars
And life's thorns us mars
And sin sometimes takes us far
From Him who does indeed love us more
than everything
Remember this one thing For us He'll do
anything
Even shed the blood of His son
Even make still the sun
Even make me go back to my rhyming
Wow...I did go back to my rhyming!
poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper
Hold the paper up to the light
(some rays pass right through)
Expose yourself out there for a minute
(some rays pass right through)
Take a little rest when the rays pass through
Take a little time off when the rays pass through
Go ahead and mis it up...go ahead and tie it up
In a long distance telephone call
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on becuase its been taken care of
Hold on to that paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
Had a love affair but it was only paper
(some rays they pass right through)
Had a lot of fun, could have been a lot better
(some rays they pass right through)
Take a little consideration, take every combination
Take a few weeks off, make it tighter, tighter
But it was never, it was never written down
Still might be a chance that it might work out (if you)
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on because itll be taken care of
Hold on to that paper
Dont think I can fit it on the paper
Dont think I can get it on the paper
Go ahead and rip up, rip up the paper
Go ahead and tear up, tear up the paper
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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SHADOWS OF AUTUMN {A Poet's Dream}
Shadows that haunt me in autumn
Memories of colours lost to winter
The Douglas Fir......forever green
Keeps the forests from the barren
and desolate winter...
Shadows tail the whispered winds
November's fickle breeze....snaps
Fresh images, for the Poet's mind
Reclusive me, i write my stories in
silent attitude...
Shadows that vision harvests death
Tips of golden leaves, turn to brown
Morning dew is masked in first-frost
I watch it all, by a window, in a room
of Donne and Poe...
All i need is my paper...and isolation
To feed by yen, for the abstract buffet
I bother no one..... harbour no secrets
I'm about words 'n tales from the dark
side of fiction...
For a Poet i am not- and will never be
Poet's paint a canvass, of open doors
Into the passions 'n perils of their lives
And they do it oh so well...'tis God-Gift
Still i write.....
And, the shadows of Autumn, haunt me
They scream and bleed poetic promise
Like the gold that Robert Frost inspired
While captured, in the autumn shadows
of a Poets dream...
(September 1st,2007)
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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