I Walk Where The Poem Once Was
I WALK WHERE THE POEM ONCE WAS
I walk where the Poem once was,
The Trees are still green
The woman is dead,
The sky is cold.
I walk where many Poems
Have been written
After the rain
Her flowers still bloom.
The presence of the other person,
Is the Greatest Gift God gives us.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Walk Without A Poem
WALK WITHOUT A POEM
I walk without a poem-
It is a time without poems-
I am tired -
The world is beating me down-
The older I ache
The more I grow cold-
I write these lines in the deep heat of summer
They are incidental and small
A poem perhaps-
But they cannot lift my soul
I do not know how now -
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If There Is A Poem On This Walk
IF THERE IS A POEM/ON THIS WALK
If there is a poem
On this walk,
Will I know how to write it?
Will I know how to make
The cold and the wind
Into a song of joy?
Will I know how to make
The gloom and the damp
Into a hymn of happiness?
If there is a poem on this walk
Will I know how to stop and hear it?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain Drops & Sun Showers
Rain falls on everyone
The same old rain
And I'm just trying to walk with you
Between the raindrops
I send my echo out
To get your love with poem
Obscures reflections of
My love
Rain falls on everyone
The same old rain
And I'm just trying to walk with you
Between the raindrops
I'll save a prayer for you
So lost and longing too
Bleach shared through dirty streaks
Wrapped up in clean white sheets
And if you think they'll watch you now
You should know they won't
Rain falls on everyone
The same old rain
And I'm just trying to walk with you
Between the raindrops
And I'm just trying to walk with you
Between the raindrops
I send my echo out
To get your love with poem
Obscure reflections of
Of my secret power
Force down the wings of god
To get your love with poem
Obscure reflections of my love
And I'm just trying to talk to you
Between the raindrops
Rain falls on everyone
The same old rain
And I'm just trying to walk with you
Between the raindrops
Rain falls on everyone
The same old rain
And I'm just trying to walk with you
Between the raindrops
And I'm just trying to walk with you
Between the raindrops
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from Machina: The Machines Of God
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Walk Slowly And Wait For A Poem
I WALK SLOWLY AND WAIT FOR A POEM
I walk slowly and wait for a poem-
The early morning
Wind and sunlight
Encompass and embrace me-
The green green world
Makes my eyes smile-
I walk slowly and wait for a poem.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem At The End Of The Walk
THE POEM AT THE END OF THE WALK
The poem at the end of the walk
Does not know
Whether or not it will come into being-
Why a poem now?
Because the pen is in my hand
And I have some minutes to wait
And the world outside
Has so much light and beauty,
And I am quiet inside
After the long walk
Before the day of work
Not tired.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Lost The Poem I Wrote In My Mind
I LOST THE POEM I WROTE IN MIND
I lost the poem I wrote in my mind
When walking to Shul this morning-
I can only try to recall its thoughts;
‘Walk too fast and the mind cannot hear itself
Walk slowly and listen to the poem inside yourself.
The road ahead the trees the sky
Has a beauty too great for you to write
Thank God for your sight.”
The best lines are forever gone-
A poem to replace a poem
Is not as good as the original-
I wish I had the words for all the beauty God gives me in my life
How wonderful it is to be alive- sometimes
And to be able to write poems – even if somewhat poorly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All I Want From This Walk Is A Poem
ALL I WANT FROM THIS WALK IS A POEM
All I want from this walk is a poem-
A small poem-
I can take home-
A poem that can somewhat diminish
My guilt, my sense of failure, my worthlessness-
A small poem
That can make me feel
I am a human being again-
As sitting in the sun
And rewriting this poem
Does to some degree now.
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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I Wanted To Write The Most Beautiful Poem
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one beyond any music I had known-
The one which would reveal the changes
in yellows and greens
spring sunlight whispered to the trees
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one which would tell the stories of all those I have loved and cared for-
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
As a poem of Kindness-
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
Of sublime and overpowering distance
Of stars when stars were dreams -
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem-
But I knew many other poems already written
Would always be far more beautiful than mine-
So I tried to write the most beautiful poem I could-
But the light outside
The world and its colors
The beauties we see and hear everyday
Said to me again and again,
'Walk more humbly with your God and do Justice and love Mercy also'.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Walked And Walked
I walked and walked
And thought,
‘Maybe I'll find a poem in walking'
I walked and walked and walked-
No Poem.
But then I thought,
‘Maybe the walk is the poem'
All around me worlds of things
Green and bright,
A good day after all-
Maybe the walk is the poem
And the writing it down,
The stopping to listen.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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.
.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Shapeshifter Poems
1
the legend is whispered
in the women's tent
how the moon when she rises
full
follows some men into themselves
and changes them there
the season is short
but dreadful shapeshifters
they wear strange hands
they walk through the houses
at night their daughters
do not know them
2
who is there to protect her
from the hands of the father
not the windows which see and
say nothing not the moon
that awful eye not the woman
she will become with her
scarred tongue who who who the owl
laments into the evening who
will protect her this prettylittlegirl
3
if the little girl lies
still enough
shut enough
hard enough
shapeshifter may not
walk tonight
the full moon may not
find him here
the hair on him
bristling
rising
up
4
the poem at the end of the world
is the poem the little girl breathes
into her pillow the one
she cannot tell the one
there is no one to hear this poem
is a political poem is a war poem is a
universal poem but is not about
these things this poem
is about one human heart this poem
is the poem at the end of the world
poem by Lucille Clifton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Always Walk In The Rain With Me
Always walk in the rain with me,
Hold my hand tight so I don’t fall,
I’m so scared of slipping away,
Always walk in the rain with me.
Dance with me held close,
So I can see another days light,
Always walk in the rain with me,
For the drops are becoming heavy,
And the storm is becoming enraged,
Always walk in the rain with me,
Shield me from the man in black,
Don’t let his winds take me away,
Always walk in the rain with me,
Help me see my way,
Need my list fulfilled for time is at hand,
Always walk in the rain with me,
Stay with me for eternity,
Help me dance my way clear,
Always walk in the rain with me,
Promise to love me forever,
Guide me to my rainbow now,
Always walk in the rain with me,
Tell me your heart n soul are mine,
Always walk in the rain with me
poem by Debbie Nicholson
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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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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written
THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To William Carlos Williams, sorta
I would talk to you
of shadows cast by street lights;
but not so much in words
rather, take a walk with you,
say, this is a street I know well,
may we walk together?
not to influence or be insistent,
but rather, see this, and this, so
let’s pause a while here,
perhaps just for a comma, or a space, or
the setting out upon the page,
a walk together,
a poem as a guiding of the reader
in the experience of the poem
I’d like to share,
not as insistence but rather
see it as loving care
as one would unwrap
some treasured heirloom
from its silk wrapping – this
I care for, you should know
and perhaps, as we walk together
through the experience of the poem
there’ll grow, a friendly trust
of imagination shared;
and like old friends, we can then talk
of anything, of everything.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Poem In Me/Everything Irritates and Angers
NO POEM IN ME
No poem in me-
Everything irritates and angers
Even the beauty of the morning light-
Says nothing to me.
Walk, walk, walk,
Try to get the Impatience out.
Write a few lines,
To come back to a better Self.
Try.
Despite these lines
I am not there yet.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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To the one who stole my poem
I had this poem
it was a particular poem
made many cry
told my story
to the person who is using my account
which i used to post my poem
which had been deleted from my computer
and only existed here in cyberspace
to this person
who added his/her poems to my name
i hope you, as a fellow poet
understand how a poem nursed
is not dissimilar to a child
i lost my child,
my poem.
if you have it please put it back
the name was 'father'
if you deleted it please write a poem
in this poem tell me that you have
i just need to know if my baby Poem is dead forever
or if it lives on your hard drive
poem by Anonymous Anonymous
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Stage Poetry Reading
After the one that sings, and after the one
that can make up poems of a kind right on the spot;
after a girl who didn't . . . walk very well,
took five minutes to get from her seat to the stage
then read one poem with hardly any words in it
and halted the whole way back in a staggering silence;
after the bald one's rhymes about this teeth;
a woman got up whose poems won't write down,
it's all in the way the voices in her come out.
We went to a medium once, and a woman locked
in a trance let a dead man come inside her and talk.
She held herself like . . . a woman being a man.
That's what it was at the open stage poetry reading,
and I left without talking, I hadn't come expecting it.
What could I have told her, I think it's a dead man?
It wasn't something I wanted to get that close to.
I could never do it myself, let a dead man come in-
or would it be, into me, a dead woman that would come?
poem by Eric Torgersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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