I Should Have Seen More of the World
I should have seen more of the world
It has so many things -
I should have touched the details down to the slightest difference
And made each perception – meaningful
I should have had a kind of mind different from my own
Less general and abstract and more able to make sensations real-
I should have spoken of what touches the earth and the actual lives
Of so many kinds of different people -
But I did not -
I sang my poem in my own small way about my own endless self
And thought and made my poems of thought
And I too writing this
Remembering how I always vowed to never repeat my father
And live in regret
Try to not say, ' Should and could and would have been’.
There are other things and other people and other worlds and much I cannot do and be -
Let me sing my own song
Others have what they have
And I what I am
And this poem too
Another meditation
Which tries to have a music of its own
And somehow broken and half real stumbles upon the page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wanted My Poem To Be A Real Poem
I WANTED MY POEM TO BE A REAL POEM
I wanted my poem to be a real poem-
I have read and studied and memorized
So many real poems-
I wanted my poem to be one of them
Which others would read and feel and memorize
And make their own –
We want and we want and we want
And who are we with all our wanting?
Who am I with all my wanting?
One more dreamer
One more ambitious person
One more lover of poems
One more writer of poems
One more wanter of real poems
Who writes this poem
For others
who dream like me
of writing real poems.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is A Poem Which Is Not A Poem
THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM
There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
Its heart is too much in thought.
It does not sing us to somewhere else.
There is a poem which is not a poem
Prosaic confessional flat,
Its says its single thing from the soul
And leaves the page without implication.
How many such poems have I written
As I write this one now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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What Is A Jewish Poem?
WHAT IS A JEWISH POEM?
What is a Jewish poem?
‘Shema’ is a Jewish poem
Perhaps the Jewish poem-
'Shmoneh Esreh' is comprised of Jewish poems
Nineteen prayers as one-
Our history is filled with Jewish poems-
From the beginning with Abraham and Sarah
Those who have given so much beyond our understanding -
Jewish poems everywhere -
Is each Jewish life a poem and a story also?
Or is it only those who give something to our people and history
Who are worthy of Poetry?
I have known many Jewish poems
People the great world will not know the names of
People who whether they walked humbly or not
Made the lives of others better in some way –
Kindness is perhaps the ultimate Jewish poem
And Justice also-
And Jewish poems are not without their contradictions –
As I write this poem in Jerusalem in the land of Israel
I think of the small Jewish world of Troy New York where I came from so many years ago
And miss so many people no longer of that and this world –
Longing for Israel for two thousand years was the Jewish poem
Living here now is a blessing and a gift
I thank God for.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Poem Is Not A Dream
THIS POEM IS NOT A DREAM
This poem is not a dream
It comes from where so many true poems come
From the other side of the mind
When it does not know peace -
From the waking desire
The hunger that is not satisfied
The lonely life and the lonely mind-
It comes from the search for love
And the love itself – the joy of love-
And from the memory of what we most deeply know when we are ourselves in love of another-
This poem is not a dream-
It comes from the waking world and the waking words-
The hard truths the bitter small things
The disappointments and rejections
The endless small humiliations which Time and Chance make of us all-
This poem comes from where we are most human
With the pain of those closest to us-
And our longing to save them and be loved forever by them-
The dream is not the poem
Life in its all its endless difficulties is the poem
And this poem too
Does not say half of all the hurt I have suffered in this one small day alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Making Poetry
Why did I make a poem?
It's more than you can imagine
It's not about black or white
Because the power of poetry that I'm dumbfounded
Look at the whole Bible, everything is poetry {not, but a holy book down from Allah is the truth}
Abstract ideas of science are all from the poem
Idealism actual human life is poetry
I'm just trying to be honest...
Creating poetry for me is more than anything
Not me want to be Jesus or Muhammad {but imitate their pious}
But I do not know what my purpose {paradise}
Only the most important is to produce poetry
I just write from the unreal world
Introduce something to people here
Are they willing to accept it or not does not matter
Since the poetry of the poem is the image of eternity
Who continue to fly and only revealed to the seeker
Poetry for me is more important than life
More important than my beloved
More important than my brother
Because the poem can represent any
Why did I make a poem?
When you reject the poem in your life
It has a form of poem to poem
Actually you can not escape from poetry
But you did not realize it, be aware of?
Indeed the poem is really real
Do you not believe how strong poetry
Look at all the countries in the world today
All poems must have an ideology
Ideology of all States is poetry
Do you still deny its power?
From now on, deep down consider
The poem is more than just blank words without the influence
(30 April 2002)
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem Is A Catalogue
The Poem is a Catalogue
The Poem is a Catalogue
A Long List
Of all things seen and known
All one’s memories
All the times and loves one has had
The great story of many other lives.
The Poem is a Catalogue of a Continent
Of a new world seen through fresh eyes
It is the night of all Rabelais body- functions
And Whitman’s wanderings
And Borges literary labyrinths
Of Joyce’s English language styles
Oxen of the Sun.
The Poem is a Catalogue of all the people
One has known
Their names and faces and lives
All the relationships one has wanted and regretted
And loved and lived in and needed to be.
The Poem is a Catalogue
Of a few small possessions
One takes in one’s hand
And goes far away with
The books on the desert island
And the last few things a hospice can hold.
The Poem is a Catalogue
Of all one will never be
All one wanted and did not get
The empty half glass.
The Poem is the Catalogue God makes
Of everything there is.
God’s Poems
And we if we can be
Privileged to be
Occasional readers
Or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sweet Music Man
Sing a song sweet music man
cause I wont be there to hold your hand like I used to
Im through with you
Youre a heck of a singer and powerful man
But you surround yourself with people
Who demand so little of you
You touched my soul with your beautiful song
You even had me singin along right with you
You said I need you
Then you changed the words and added harmony
Then you sang the song you had written for me to someone new
Oh, but nobody sings a love song quite like you do
Oh, and nobody else can make me sing along
Nobody else can make me feel things are right
When I know theyre wrong
Nobody sings a love song quite like you
Sing your song sweet music man
Travel the world with a six piece band
That does for you what you tell em to
And you try to stay young but the songs are sung
To so many people whove all begun came back on you
Sing your song sad music man
Makin your living doing one-night stands
Theyre through with you
They dont need you
Youre still a heck of a singer but a broken man
But youll keep on lookin for one last fan to sing to
Oh, and nobody sings a love song quite like you do
Oh, and nobody else can make me sing along
And nobody else can make me feel things are right
When theyre wrong with a song
Nobody sings a love song quite like you
Tag:
Sing your song sweet music man
I believe in you
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was Away From The Poems
I was away from the Poems
I could not hear them within myself -
There were many sounds
Many different kinds of words
And speakers and ranters and shouters
And all kinds of false music also
And even beautiful music and prayer-
But there were no poems
I could hear no poems
And within myself suddenly there came such ‘longing’
And such ‘anxiety’-
‘Where is the Poem? And where can I possibly be if there is none?
And how can I find it again? ’
And all I needed I thought was some long long long silence
Some being alone and away
Some forever waiting to hear
Some listening to the true voice
And then somehow somehow the Poems would come again –
And here here here it is now
The poem
Quiet and sure and happy and light and singing
As if it were the one music God wanted me to hear
And repeat always as if it truly were mine and yours
Dear imagined reader,
Alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Alone, Writing A Poem With A Song
I was alone listening to a love/sad song
Searching, thinking ideas with imagination
To create a story in a form of a poem
Holding my pen and start writing it down
Since I like the lyrics with meaning so i sing along
Imagine life living alone with only a song
No one to talks to wh hears my opinion
Through song I express my emotion
Writing a poem which replies all my questions
And share to people that would give inspiration.
While writing a poem with a sad song
Something came across my mind
Remembered those things I had in my past
Which never get lost, I hate it but it last
My life which is filled with sufferings, I wish it would cast.
Alone, writing a poem with a sad song
My eyes covered by tears and let it fall
I cried and shout out loud to ease my pain
Just like a cloudy sky and pours as rain.
I keep on repeating the whole song till I finished my poem
Feared to forget the words and its definition
I happened to memorize the lyrics and become a favourite
A song that has been part of my life
And makes me live though I am alone.
eplies
poem by Judith Kempis
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Oh Poem -Where Are You?
OH POEM-WHERE ARE YOU?
Oh poem- Where are you?
Come, release me from the burden of this day
The guilt of not doing anything
Help me pretend
That by writing you
I am truly doing something.
O poem here you are
This is you
Yet another self- justification
In a world which has so many more real pains.
Oh poem
Be kind a bit
Help someone
Anyone
Even just one reader
Feel that this dawn now
Can be the start
Of a real day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Poem-Where Are You?
OH POEM-WHERE ARE YOU?
Oh poem- Where are you?
Come, release me from the burden of this day
The guilt of not doing anything
Help me pretend
That by writing you
I am truly doing something.
O poem here you are
This is you
Yet another self- justification
In a world which has so many more real pains.
Oh poem
Be kind a bit
Help someone
Anyone
Even just one reader
Feel that this dawn now
Can be the start
Of a real day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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.’
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Like So Many Poems I Read
LIKE SO MANY POEMS I READ
Like so many poems I read
These poems I am reading now
Are not poems to me.
They are too detached
Too abstract
Too up in the air.
I want to hear the words
Make a music of feeling
In my soul.
A poem must move me
If it is to be real.
Why then do I write these words
as if a poem?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sweet Music Man
Sing your song sweet music man
Cuz I won't be there to hold your hand
Like I used to
I'm through with you
You're a hell of a singer and a powerful man
But you surround yourself with people who demand so little of you
You touched my -heart- (its suposed to be soul) with your beautiful song
You even had me singing along right with you
You said I need you
Then you changed the words and added harmony
And you sang the song you had written for to someone new
~Chorus~
Nobody sings a love song quite like you do
Nobody else can make me sing along
Nobody else can make me feel that things are right when I know they're wrong
Nobody sings a love song quite like you
~
Sing your song sweet music man
You travel the world with your six-piece band
That does for you
What you ask them to
You try to stay young but the songs you've sung to so many people
They've all begun to come back on you
Sing your song sad music man
Your making your living doin one night stands
They're through with you
They don't need you
You're still a hell of a singer but a broken man
But you'll keep searching for that one last fan
To sing to
~Chorus~
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Poem Will Be For My Mother And Father
THIS POEM WILL BE FOR MY MOTHER AND FATHER
This poem will be for my mother and father
In my old age-
Why not one more poem for them?
Who were my world
Who gave me what I am
Who in their life together
Struggled and endured through the pain
Loved in their own way-
Raised us-
Why not think of them again?
This early morning in Israel
Far away from Troy New York
Where they made their story?
Why not one small poem for them,
Who are no longer here
Who were everything once?
Why not for Ma and Dad,
The only ones the real ones the ones I love
Ma and Dad and Jakie and Joycie and me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sweet Music Man
I didn't listen, and I couldn't see,
And all I have left now,
Are words she gave to me
Sing me a song sweet music man,
'Cause I won't be there to hold your hand
Like I used to,
I'm through with you
You touched my soul with your beautiful song
You even had me singing along right with you
You said "I needed you"
But then you changed the words and that harmony
And you sang that song you'd written for me
To someone new
But nobody sings a love song quite like you do,
And nobody else can make me sing along,
And nobody else can make me feel
That things are right when they're wrong,
Nobody sings a love song quite like you.
Sing me a song sweet music man,
Your making a living doing one night stands
that do for you what you need them to
Your still a hell of a singer but a broken man
And you surround yourself with people who demand
So little of you
But nobody sings a love song quite like you do,
And nobody else can make me sing along,
And nobody else can make me feel,
That things are right when they're wrong
with a song,
Nobody sings a love song quite like you.
So sing me a song sad music man,
I believe in you
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night
I STRIVE AGAINST THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT
I strive against the silence of the night
Against my own inner emptiness
I wait to hear some song from inside myself -
Nothing is written.
I go back to where I am
And begin again.
There is always a poem if one is patient enough.
But what poem?
And for what special meaning of this night?
I write again and again
A poem which is about writing a poem
And when I come to end it
I question again and again
Whether it is real.
This night is already deep in darkness
And yet I have almost broken its silence
One more line
One more writing about writing a poem -
Perhaps Memory will come back to me
And I will write a more real poem
Than this strained effort now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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