Every Morning Has Its Own Poem/ Old Age Fades

EVERY MORNING HAS ITS OWN POEM/ OLD AGE FADES

Every morning has its own poem
Old age fades and goes away in the grey of the early morning day
Every day has its own poem
Every time of life
Hope too is also given to those with few years left
Old age has a poem
I am trying to write it.

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There Is A Poem For Me Somewhere This Morning

THERE IS A POEM FOR ME SOMEWHERE THIS MORNING

There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I will find it somehow
Perhaps it is in the memory of my father
Whose Yahrtzeit is today
Twenty- two years.
Perhaps it is as it is often
In the morning light
When I first walk outside to Shul
Perhaps it is in the deep need for a poem
For my own justification
Perhaps it is in my daughter’s search
For poems of inspiration
Perhaps it is in many things mixed together
Most of which I have not yet
And may never bring to mind
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I am writing it now
It is not beautiful
And not the best
And maybe even not much of a poem
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
And I am not alone.

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A Poem Is Just A Poem

a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem

a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about

anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's

poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be

a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice

thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist

on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,

need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem

it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so

this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.

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I Wanted A Poem For The Morning

I wanted a poem for the morning
A poem to begin the day with-
A poem which would give my life hope -
I wanted a poem
Which would say I am alive
A good poem a kind poem
A poem which would make others a bit more happy-
And as so often
I wrote a poem
And left it as a question for the longer daylight and
the longer night which also is our life
beyond the morning-

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There Is A Poem No Morning Can Right

There is a poem no morning can right
It is the poem of the night
It is a dark poem and a deep poem
A poem of unrest and unquiet
It does not know its own name
And redefines itself through indecipherable disturbing dreams-

The poem of the night
Is not the poem I want to write-
But some nights it writes me without my asking for it-
And when the morning comes
I invariably rush to something else
So it may be erased.

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Grey Grey Morning

GREY GREY MORNING

Grey grey morning
Purim again
Where to begin?
A poem is not just any words-
A poem needs a music of its own-
A beauty-
Lines that are memorable.
A poet cannot just be
What one happens to see and feel
At the moment
A poem must have lines which others will remember.
Grey grey morning
Purim again
Another poem about a poem
Is there one line here worth remembering?

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I Wanted A Poem In The Early Morning-Even Before The Darkness Had Gone

I WANTED A POEM IN THE EARLY MORNING

I wanted a poem in the early morning
Even before the darkness had gone-
I wanted to hear words
That meant music
That said I was alive and could write-
I wanted a poem in the early morning
So that I could be justified
For the rest of the day-
Time and again I have written that poem
I write it now -
How wonderful when it flows as if it is real
I may never know that it is
But in writing it, thank God, I feel alive and blessed

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This Poem

THIS POEM

This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.

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There Is No Poem/Like The Poem Of The Morning

THERE IS NO POEM/ LIKE THE POEM OF THE MORNING

There is no poem
Like the poem of the morning-
The poem of beginning again-
The poem of light-
The poem of hope-
The poem of a new world.

Even when one is old,
The poem of the morning
Is a new poem.

And we need new poems.

We need mornings-
We need light-
We need hope-
The poem of a new day
Of beginning again
Even when one is old.

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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.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

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There Are Days No Poem Can Be Written

THERE ARE DAYS NO POEM CAN BE WRITTEN

There are days no poem can be written
Grief and worry frighten the poem away
Yet the poem lives hidden
For our darkest moments our loneliest fears
Too need their poetry.

Poetry is a way of saying all we need to say
It is our deepest feeling most deeply expressed
It is all we are
The whole of our being
In words.

When a poet dies
Words die
When I will die
All I am will no longer be able to write
One more poem.

How afraid I am in the night
And how dark in the early morning before I rise
But now that I am here
Writing this
A bit of hope begins in me
And I can dream that
When I walk out the door
a few minutes from now
A new day will begin.

How many days I have left
How many poems to write
I do not know.

It is not light yet
And the darkness is still here
But I will feel the morning again
This morning
Thank G-d
You have given me so many poems.
A few small words
help me believe
I truly am alive.
.

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The Poem About The Poem

The poem about the poem
And what is a poem?
And what is a poet?
And will the poem
Save me?
Help you?

And is writing the poem
The best I can do?
Or is it only words and more words?
Is the poem about the poem
For the poet only?
Or for each one reading and speaking and hearing it?

The poem about the poem
On this sunny spring Jerusalem morning
Peace and happiness in me -
The poem about the poem
For now.

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This is a poem....

This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.

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He Walks Without A Poem

HE WALKS WITHOUT A POEM

He walks without a poem
There is no poem in his mind
No poem in his heart.

But the idea of a poem
The dream of a poem
The daily task of a poem
The justification given by a poem-

He stops and writes these words down.
All around him
the morning light sings songs
of the things
of this world.

A poem perhaps?
Perhaps not?
I

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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!

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A Poem At The End Of The Day

A POEM AT THE END OF THE DAY

A poem at the end of the day
Cannot have the hope
Of a morning poem.

A poem at the end of the day
Has to have weariness in it
And sadness
And fear.

The night is coming
But no one knows what the night will be.

A poem at the end of the day
Does not know if it will ever see the morning.

It has fear in it
And I would not write it,
Were it not
The end of the day now.

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The Morning Writes Its Own Poem

THE MORNING WRITES ITS OWN POEM

The morning writes its own poem
The light is its poem
We need the light of the morning
After the long darkness of night
The morning is hope
The morning is beginning
The morning is a new day
A new world -
We need the morning
And we need to begin again
And we need to feel life has hope
And we need to love the world
And to believe that walking out into it
Begins another day.

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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.

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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.

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