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I can’t think of an intro
For the poem I have in mind
Stop teasing me, my dear
I want the feeling to be in rhyme
Don’t make me lose my words
Don’t kiss me here and there
I can’t concentrate, I can’t create
My man you’re so hot tonight
Ok, I’ll turn off the computer now
Wait, I’ll just highlight these words
To save the thoughts for tomorrow
I swear I’ll continue these lines
‘Cause I know I will have
A better piece, a better rhyme
poem by Rose de Ramar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So In Love
I can’t think of anything to write
I want to make a piece that rhyme
But words are very hard to find
I don’t know what I should say
Would anyone bother to stay
And take time to wait for my way
Some people say, I write from the heart
And I truly agree because it’s not a lie
For what I write is what I feel inside
I have this wonderful feeling to share
But how come that I can’t create
My mind seems floating in the air
Tonight that I am with my dearest love
My heart beats too fast and I’m almost numb
I’m in cloud nine so please do understand
Ahaha… I’m so in love and I feel so high
Forgive me for I’m almost out of my mind
To share you a better piece, maybe next time
poem by Rose de Ramar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Does Not Have to Rhyme
There are those who think in order for a poem to have rhythm it must rhyme, but a poem does not have to rhyme to have rhythm.
The rhythm comes for the poet’s soul not the rhyming of words.
The rhythm is in emotions that the poet’s poem evokes.
From a soulful cry to feeling of love and from the passion of hate to the awakening of understanding this is the beat, the rhythm of a poem. Now don’t get me wrong if a poem rhyme and has soul it is cool too, but I just wanted everyone to know that a poem does not have to rhyme.
The loss of a poem
Losing a poem is like losing a life
A poem that seems set to make history
then itself now becoming history
by a saddened mystery
that emulates it's attribute 'mystery'
A dear poem just evaporates
into air so thin for recovery
that I wonder how else to retrieve
the beautiful artwork of description
that flowed down my fingers
as I penned down my insights
I have lost this to foolishness
as I copied not a draft
to fall on, on the occasion of a loss
I tried really hard to reborn
the thoughts that had a part to play
in the mix of the words displayed
on the screen of this new innovation [computer]
that led to the loss of my words
all for a trust I cannot convict
for stealing my precious thoughts
embedded in the lines of that poem
The feeling that you are gone is bitter
but I guess I should be capable
of rising to it's occassion
that are chanting in my mind
with rhetorical questions
seeming so difficult
to place a finger on
My dear,
I have decided to pay for your loss
and I admit that you are gone
but I'd make sure you remain green
in the hard disk of my being.
Dedicated to 'The Joy I See',
A poem i wrote on the computer but disappeared as i thought it was saved on my poems list.
ADIEU! ! !
poem by Adedolapo Olisa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't like Lines that Rhyme
In my lines
They all think
I rhyme,
But I cry.
I cry
For lost
Of my right.
In my mind
I know I don't
Like lines
That rhyme.
All I know
I'm not afraid
To die
For my right,
Cause if today
I die
Tomorrow
I shall rise.
With Christ
I shall fly.
As was profesied.
Tho' I don't like
To write
And my
Lines
Don't rhyme
But my love for
You is no lie.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only A Poem Can Save Me Tonight
ONLY A POEM CAN SAVE ME TONIGHT
Only a poem can save me tonight
The heat has been too much
Also the feeling of illness.
I cannot move my mind very much
But a few lines I can write.
Are they a poem?
Is this a poem?
Long ago I began to hear the words which came from within me
As poetry.
They had a real music of their own
Even now I suppose I can hear them
I write to make my life meaningful
Is this a poem?
The heat and the feeling of illness do not matter-
I am writing this down
As if it were Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Space Between All Things
All the walls of your house,
were painted in deep blue,
you're at that indecisive age to choose colours that reflect you,
and everything and nothing,
is in the space between all things,
that fascinates as much as it agitates,
words turn me into what I say,
as you pull your yellow stained fingers,
through your un-kept hair,
I noticed that the corners of your jeans,
were folded neatly into squares,
your thoughts are the strangest place that you've ever been,
stranger even than Los Angeles,
it's like a cinema where they never ask you to leave,
So while you wait and are you wait,
and concentrate on being as far away,
from fate so while you wait,
and concentrate on being as far away,
She had a north Atlantic film star grace,
that's why her tears are out of place,
that kind sadness has more style,
so nothing will make her smile,
except as soon as anything happens,
she'll drag me on the street,
and hand in hand we stand protesting,
while everyone is still asleep,
So while you wait and are you wait,
and concentrate on being as far away,
from fate so while you wait,
and concentrate on being as far away,
so while you wait and are you wait,
and concentrate on being as far away,
from fate so while you wait,
and concentrate on being as far away,
Are you wait,
are you wait,
are you wait,
are you waaait,
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words
Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
Im sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
Theyre bringing me presents and saying hello.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
If I was a junkman selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The king started laughing and talking in rhyme.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Make A Poem A Poem?
What makes a poem a poem
Is it the story it tells
The feeling it sells.
what makes a poem a poem
is it the history it shows
or the letters of word flow
do the lines mater it they rhyme
or not, can it be free verse of
abcabc line schem,
What makes a poem a poem
is it the words i repeat
Or the emotion they cove.
What makes a poem a poem
Saved From Grace
Save your self from grace
We must make haste
Its not what you think
Ugly is the sate of mind
Beauty being but in on the inside
With words that rhyme I try describe
What has already been inscribed
Save your self from grace
Your must have a taste
Sweet and sincere
Its unending my dear
But tells me nothing of who you really are
The skin only stretches so far
Save your self from grace
Remember this place
Hold it in your thoughts forever
For it will become the words another unwritten letter
Light as a feather
If only free the mind
Only in dark places shall we find
Save your self from grace
With a hope and a tear drop, I only hope the heart break can be erased
Let it be replaced
Begin a new
A magic formula is my glue
My hope and wish are meant for you
If only another day you get through
But you must save your self from grace
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just to Get You Out and Away
The poem is stuck on my tongue, and is between the gears in my head.
It changes from a love poem then to a deep, dark, and depressing one again.
Well it did match the weather outside.
Why is it that, staring at this piece of blank paper, can’t my poem be on it.
It is a figment! No, a fragmented thought that needs to be complete.
Where’s the inspiration to draw you out?
The elegant and superfluous words need you; they call you.
They call out as did Romeo called out to fair Juliet.
Actually, the poem doesn’t want fancy word play.
Could be, maybe it should be a poem that can rhyme...with time!
Thinking about that, I don’t think so.
This poem is stubborn to bring forth.
Screw you undetermined poem ever changing in my head!
Here I’ll write one for you.
In this, I expel you from clogging my thoughts.
Go now, drift into someone else’s mind.
Stop there concentration until they rid of you.
Written: November 18,2010
poem by Ryan Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Ageing Poem
A simple poem I wanted to write
The words were so clear in my mind
But my fingers were numb and sore
Lift a pencil they can't at all
Before a few lines write I could
With my signpen wrestle I should
I tried to read my scribbles
And asked my self how did I fare
The words I saw were all in blur
And were in badly crooked lines
I have but lost my metering
And all my lines did hardly rhyme
My next poems shall not be written
And in my thought will just remain
Be unrecited as they may
Till in my mind they fade away
poem by Pacific Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!
THEY ARE POETS TOO, You are a poet!
THOSE who misspell
And those who are still coping up
With their metaphors
The techniques
Of rhyme & beat
Those who think
They do not
Know how to
Write poetry
And those
Who fear
What to say
What to write
What the others say
About their poetry
And those that doubt
Their writing
Abilities
Their thoughts
Their feelings
Their feelings
Their feelings
Yes
Yes
Their feelings
Or those who simply
Fear that they may only
Be displeasing
And disappointing
And those whose
Sense of confidence
About this thing
This poetry
This poem thing
Those that still
Hide what they
Feel to what they
Think
Is prose
Those who think that
Their life
Is not worth
Sharing in the
The beat and
Rhyme of poetry
Behold
The mere thought
About life
About a beating heart
The pulse
The eyes that blink
The fingers fidgety
That type the words
Of feelings
Of feelings
Yes
Yes
About feelings
It is all about feelings
The genuine feelings
Of your life
You type them
Each word
To another word
A chain of words
A long chain of words
Like playing the music
To the piano keys
Like strumming
The strings of a
Flamenco guitar
A certain music
A certain beat
To the sound
Of your computer keys
Hear the beat
And the rhyme
Of your computer keys
Each word
To another word
To a chain of words
To a longer chain of words
You are running a chain of feelings
You are chasing a chain of feelings long chained in your hearts wanting to be free
To be free
To be free
Yes
Yes
You, feeling to be free to run free to be all free
Like you were scattering red rose petals to this pedestal
Like you were sprinkling waters to this garden
Like you were splashing waters in the sea
Like you were bathing playing dancing in the rain
Like you were humming a tune to a trek on a hill
Like you were making love with your beloved the whole night
Behold
A poet in you is born
Behold
You are typing
A poem
You are
Feeling
And you are
By all means
Now a poet
I hereby baptize you
With that name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amanda
Babe, tomorrows so far away
Theres something I just have to say
I dont think I can hide what Im feelin inside
Another day, knowin I love you
And i, Im getting too close again
I dont want to see it end
If I tell you tonight will you turn out the light
And walk away knowin I love you?
Im gonna take you by surprise and make you realize,
Amanda
Im gonna tell you right away, I cant wait another day,
Amanda
Im gonna say it like a man and make you understand
Amanda
I love you
And I feel like todays the day
Im lookin for the words to say
Do you wanna be free, are you ready for me
To feel this way
I dont wanna lose you
So, it may be too soon, I know
The feeling takes so long to grow
If I tell you today will you turn me away
And let me go?
I dont wanna lose you
Im gonna take you by surprise and make you realize,
Amanda
Im gonna te ll you right away, I cant wait another day,
Amanda
Im gonna say it lik e a man and make you understand
Amanda
You and i
I know that we cant wait
And I swear, I swear its not a lie girl
Tomorrow may be too late
You, you and I girl
We can share a life together
Its now or never
And tomorow may be too late
And, feelin the way I do
I dont wanna wait my whole life through
To say Im in love with you
(scholz)
song performed by by Boston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem of the Ageing
A simple poem I wanted to write
The words were so clear in my mind
But my fingers were numb and sore
Lift a pencil they can't at all
Before a few lines write I could
With my signpen wrestle I should
I tried to read what I've written
And asked my self how did I fare
The words I saw were all in blur
And were in badly crooked lines
I have but lost my metering
And all my lines did hardly rhyme
My next poems shall not be written
And in my thought will just remain
Be unrecited as they may
Till in my mind they fade away
poem by Pacific Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Modern Day Poet
I am the modern day poet you know
that must make words that easily flow.
For to just present words that ramble on
is to yield forth words that soon are gone.
They're gone from the listener and reader too,
who cannot reason or cannot view
how the words just seem to sit on a page
allowed to sit and yellow with age.
Words must be caressed and also thrive
to take on rhythms which come alive,
alive in the memory that through the ear
has taken it in and holds it dear.
And so in each poem I have my say.
And so in each poem my words do sway
back and forth like a front porch swing
giving my poem a magical ring.
I never allow dullness to come into play
for then my poem will be thrown away
into the piles of poems never read
because they're too hard to keep in the head.
So over and over it's become my style
to enchant the reader for a little while,
making them remember the lilting rhyme
that got into my head one word at a time.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is A Poem
As I sat in my room,
On my little desk chair,
I began to feel
A hint of despair.
I had for my homework,
A poem to create,
And if it wasen't done then,
It would have been late.
My school, my dog,
A tree or my home,
Which of these subjects,
Should I choose for my poem?
You can see for yourself,
That my problem was bad,
No poem could I think of,
My; this was sad.
As I sat there and gazed,
A thought came to mind:
A poem is a poem,
Just as long as it rhymes.
So I wrote down some words,
And tossed them around,
Until they rhymed nicely,
And had a smooth sound.
My poem was all finished,
My homework all done,
It wasen't bad after all,
It even was fun!
Longfellow, Whitman,
Robert Frost too,
I've discovered there secret
That all of them knew.
A poem is no problem,
It takes not much time,
You write down your thoughts,
In a way that will rhyme.
poem by Sarah Stopka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fly Me To The Moon
Poets often use many words
To say a simple thing
It takes thoughts and time and rhyme
To make a poem sing
With music and words I've been playing
For you I have written a song
To be sure that you'll know what I'm saying
I'll translate as I go along
Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what Spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, darling kiss me
Fill my heart with song
And let me sing for evermore
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you
Fill my heart with song
And let me sing for evermore
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Back Come Back My Dear
come back come back to me
as i put my right hand on the bible and say i love you
turn around so we may embrace each other happily
always knowing the words were coming.but just like me you too
were not sure what would happen once they did
i knew it was about time i should not have hid
under my shroud and shadow and kept myself away
from you how fey
sorry to inveigh
for it should be happy time i say
as i say those magic words again and again and you say ok
ok.. ok stop soon
lets not rush this giggle the pain
is here but i will not let my love wain
my dear i have waited for you and you for me
my star is for you and your star is mine
this is a poem must it rhyme
its just time
to show my love i do not know why i write
i will try make this a reality alright?
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A poem with the perfect rhyme
If a poem could cost a dime
I will spend my ink and spend my time
Making the perfect rhyme
More than a million people may read it
Even if I have to sell it on credit
I will be the businesswoman with wit
Sit down! Think about it!
A penny for the perfect sentence
A penny for a poem glaring with essence
A penny for writing about the present and past tense
A penny for describing a situation that is intense
A penny if I write truthfully without pretence
As I turn away from crime
Making the perfect rhyme
If a poem could cost a pound
I will turn my life around
As I compose the perfect poetic sound
That rhymes against any background
My words will be sublime
Not just the perfect rhyme
They will be read both at teatime and during bedtime
My sentences will mature in their prime with time
As I turn away from crime
Making the perfect rhyme
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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