I Have No Poem Tonight/ But Life In Its Strange Beauty Surprises

I HAVE NO POEM TONIGHT/ BUT LIFE IN ITS STRANGE BEAUTY SURPRISES

I have no poem tonight
But life in its strange beauty surprises
And somewhere looking up at the sky
I see
An endless hope-
A beauty beyond any dreaming
A depth of light and black and night
No one could ever imagine alone.

This world of God sometimes-
Is as much a true home,
As for me
A true poem.

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Will I Have A Poem Tonight?

WILL I HAVE A POEM TONIGHT?

Will I have a poem tonight?
Or will tiredness take me to bed
Without an answer?
Will I be able to find within myself
Some sounds of meaning
Some hint of beauty?
Something deeper than the darkness outside
As real as the longing within?

The poem which is written about the poem which is not
Is the poem which is written about the poem which is
And the poem which is
Is tonight the poem of the night
And the poem of the night tonight
Is the poem this poem is.

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The Poem I Cannot Write/ Is The Poem Beyond My Own Poetry

THE POEM I CANNOT WRITE/ IS THE POEM BEYOND MY OWN POETRY

The poem I cannot write
Is the poem beyond my own poetry -
It is greater than what I am capable of -
It surprises in ways my awkward phrases cannot
It is complex beyond my simple simplicity
It has an infectious beauty
That demands to be recited again and again -
It lingers in the mind and memory
As a strange new beauty beyond anything done by anyone else before.

The poem I cannot write
Has been written will be written
By those greater than myself-
I have the great blessing
Of being able to read them
But I cannot join them
Despite a lifetime of trying.

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Beauty Is The Poem

BEAUTY IS THE POEM
(At listening to Air on a G String)

Beauty is the poem
The music is the poem
The beauty of the music
Slow and slower
Deep and deeper
Long and longer
Beauty is the poem.
The melody that plays its slow length along
Beauty in the music
Beauty as the poem
Life as beauty
Life as music
Beauty is the poem
And life is the music now.

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The Beauty Of A Poem

The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.

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This Is A Poem Of Beauty For You

THIS IS A POEM OF BEAUTY FOR YOU

This is a poem of Beauty for you
If you read this poem you’ll become Beauty too
Beauty is strange
Beauty is new
Beauty is in your poems too.

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My Dream Is That My Poem Will Be My Name

MY DREAM IS THAT MY POEM WILL BE MY NAME

My dream is that my poem will be my name-
And that my name will say to others something of the truth and the beauty of G-d’s world -
And that when I am no longer alive and dreaming,
The beauty of the poem will be true.

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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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The Poem Of The Sea Is For Me in Tel Aviv Today

THE POEM OF THE SEA IS FOR ME IN TEL AVIV TODAY
BET CHOL HAMOED PESACH 5762

The poem of the sea is for me today
The poem of longing and beauty
It is the poem of light
Of distance
It is the poem of waves unceasing
And colors dreaming their changes faster than they can be named-

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of return and happiness
A poem of being with my family-

It is too a poem of memories
How thirty- five years ago just beginning
I came to the same sea alone
And wondered how
If I would ever have a family of my own
Then young in love
And later losing love
And then returning alone
And now again here
With a daughter her husband and my granddaughter

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of Love and Gratitude to God
Of longing and beauty of light of distance
And happiness.

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What's In Your Heart

True beauty is in the way she laughs
True beauty is in her eyes
True beauty is how she acts
True beauty is inside
True beauty is unseen
True beauty is only felt
True beauty is not mean
True beauty is herself
True beauty can't be cruel
True beauty is bare
True beauty lies within you
True beauty is always there
True Beauty can't be covered with makeup
True beauty means true love
True beauty can't be baked up
True beauty is the flight of a dove
True beauty has no flaws
For True beauty is all that matters after all

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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

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Without Beauty

WITHOUT BEAUTY

Without Beauty
What is a Poem?
What is a Life?

Without Beauty
What are we?

We need Beauty-
We live by Beauty-
Beauty in words also.

Oh if I could only write a poem
As Great as my feelings of Beauty are.

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True beauty

True beauty is in the way she laughs
True beauty is in her eyes
True beauty is how she acts
True beauty is inside
True beauty is unseen
True beauty is only felt
True beauty is not mean
True beauty is herself
True beauty can't be cruel
True beauty is bare
True beauty within you
True beauty is always there
True Beauty can't be covered with makeup
True beauty means true love
True beauty can't be baked up
True beauty is the flight of a dove
True beauty has no flaws
For True beauty is all that matters after all

all rights reserved to Jean Melanie Pullman

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A Poem Of The Sea Is For Me Today in Tel Aviv Chol Ha- Moed Pesach 5762

THE POEM OF THE SEA IS FOR ME TODAY IN TEL AVIV CHOL HAMOED PESACH 5762

The poem of the sea is for me today
In Tel Aviv Chol Ha- Moed Pesach 5762
The poem of longing and beauty
It is the poem of light
Of distance
It is the poem of waves unceasing
And colors dreaming their changes faster than they can be named-

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of return and happiness
A poem of being with my family-

It is too a poem of remembrance-
How thirty- five years ago just beginning
I came to the same sea alone
And wondered how
If I would ever have a family of my own -

Then young in love
And later losing love
And then returning alone
And now again here
With a daughter her husband and my granddaughter

The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of Love and Gratitude to God-

Of longing and beauty of light of distance
And happiness.

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The Poem Of The Night

The Poem of the Night

The poem of the night
is a quiet poem.
It listens only
to itself.
It calls no one;
It remains as it is
where it is,
waiting with the subtle light
which makes it mean
what Beauty does.

The Poem of the Night
is a quiet life
and a light of Love
Looking at God's world
and smiling at it-

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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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Just a Poem

If a poem is all I possess
Then this one is for you
I wish to say something
I have always been unable to
I find you beautiful and kind
I find you in my dreams
I wish to be there for you
And for you to feel for me
I speak from my heart
As I pen this ode to you
To all of life a beauty
To all beauty life
I care for you this night
Perhaps more than I should
But call this as you will
Call it love or a crush
But it is honest and true
I feel strongly for you
And all I can offer is a poem
A poem is all I offer you

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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again

THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’

‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?

Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’

The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.

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I Thought To Begin The Day With A Poem

I THOUGHT TO BEGIN THE DAY WITH A POEM

I thought to begin the day with a poem
But inside myself I hear only my own slow emptiness
Word by word I try to hear
And there is some small motion now
But still
A real poem
A poem of beauty
A poem of light
A poem of love
A poem that makes the dreamer long to dream-
And the lover long to love-
A poem that moves-

Well it is very very dark outside
And the world straining to give
Small rain to a dry land
Seems to say,

‘There may be a poem today
But it is not the poem you dream
Not the poem others will love
As you have loved
True poetry.’

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What Poem Will The Night Write Tonight?

WHAT POEM WILL THE NIGHT WRITE TONIGHT?

What poem will the night write tonight?
A black poem?
A dark poem?
A poem without light?

What poem will the soul write tonight?
Light and light and more light
Light is the poem of the night.

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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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