I Wrote A Poem/ And Was Done For The Day

I WROTE A POEM / AND WAS DONE FOR THE DAY

I wrote a poem
And was done for the day-
Satisfied and at peace
I could rest and sleep-

The road is long
I rest on it
Tomorrow it will open again
And again I will sleep -

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I Wrote No Poem Today/ I Wrote No Poem Yesterday

I WROTE NO POEM TODAY/ I WROTE NO POEM YESTERDAY

I wrote no poem today-
I wrote no poem yesterday-
Will I write a poem tomorrow?
Perhaps all my lines are done-
And I must live out
The rest of my life
In silence-
God is Great
Am I a small small small voice still?

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A Ode Poem To You

My mother gave me an ode poem, oh how I love that poem
The scene of her perfume on it, the picture of me in her arms
This letter I keep with me all the time, I love it so much I sleep with it under my pillow
To her nice hand writing, to the black ink she wrote in, she wrote until her ink went low

My poem is great, my poem is wonderful, to the white paper she wrote on it’s beautiful
To the green words of the title, my poem she gave me is the best
I love how she gave the lip stick print on the top of my poem, sad to say she's at rest
I will always love the poem she gave to me before she passed

To the words in the poem she gave me will always endure
Word by word my lovely poem is speaking to me gratefully
This ode poem was from my mom and for only me sincerely
I love my poem, oh how wonderful it can be

Its so wonderful do you want to read,
Take a look, take a look and you will see

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I Wrote This Poem And That Poem And Another Poem Again

I WROTE THIS POEM AND THAT POEM AND ANOTHER POEM AGAIN

I wrote this poem and that poem and another poem again
The world of poetry was open to me
And I could go on and on in it
It was a dream come true
A world which opened when I moved through it
A place I wanted to be
A place of beauty and peace and spirit and imagination
A good good place
The world of poetry was open to me
And as I wrote my way through it
I felt God had given me a gift of life
And I should at least know enough to be grateful for it-

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They Call It Gentle and Smile

The Sun wrote a poem
That is morning
The Moon wrote a poem
That is evening
I wrote a poem
That is love
You wrote a poem on your lips
They fondly call it gentle and smile

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My Poem Came To Me In The Night

MY POEM CAME TO ME IN THE NIGHT

My poem came to me in the night
Long after I should have gone to sleep
It came with darkness inside and a fear of darkness deeper still-
It was a poem of the end of the earth
A dark poem
The last poem of the day and perhaps the last poem of forever-
It came to me in the night
And made me write it down gently
And said because there is no time left
It is impossible to add on to it
Or give it true character and feeling.-
The poem of the night and its darkness
Stilled me into vulnerable silence
And I slept and went to sleep
Far from the page I wrote.

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A Poem

i wrote you a poem,
that stood naked on
your doorstep,
but you didnt notice...

so i wrote you a poem,
that bled on your kitchen floor,
yet the mop stood untouched
in the corner!

i wrote you a poem,
that set itself on fire
in your bedroom,
and you opened the window.

so i wrote you a poem,
from the land of death...
your tears only an echo,
that couldnt touch...

couldnt taste, couldnt feel...
will you write me a poem?

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I Wrote A Poem Today

I WROTE A POEM TODAY

I wrote a poem today
I wrote a poem yesterday
Will I write a poem tomorrow?

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I Wrote A Poem I Loved

I WROTE A POEM I LOVED

I wrote a poem I loved
But I could not rest content with it.
I had to write another poem,
And another poem.
And in the writing of other poems,
Some of which I also loved.
I lost the poem I loved.

Essentially I am a writer of poems
And not their possessor.

I possess many poems of others,
But somehow mine, I cannot.

However I love them
Perhaps I really believe
None of them good enough
To be worthy of such love.

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I Would Write A Quiet Poem

I WOULD WRITE A QUIET POEM

I would write a quiet poem.
There is so much noise in the world.
A poem to be read in silence
A poem to give comfort and rest
A poem of peace
Of mind and soul.

A quiet poem
Against all the furies and pains of this world
A poem of peace
Restful as the most bliss-filled sleep.

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The poem

I wrote a poem that didn't
ryhme,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love
more than life,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love more than life,
of which she did more than like,
the poem was short,
repeated myself alot,
but the one I loved more than life,
felt that love is like the poem I wrote,
full of joy and full of hurt,
the poem I wrote when I was full of hype,
coz the one I loved more than life is the one that now fills in my life all gaps,
the one that brings me up when am down,
a smile on my face from a frown,
music to my ears when we talk,
love in my heart when I'm near,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme for the one I love more than life.

poem by Kennedy MusyokaReport problemRelated quotes
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I Will Have Written Only One

I WILL HAVE WRITTEN ONLY ONE

I wrote another poem today
The poem that I wrote yesterday
Tomorrow I will write a poem
Whose meaning will not be unknown.

Again and again I continue to write
The single poem of my only life
When all my poems and writing are done
I will have written only one.

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Maria's Lullaby

An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby

Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.

Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.

Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.

Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.

Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.

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The Poem I Wrote Yesterday/ The Poem I Write Today

THE POEM I WROTE YESTERDAY/THE POEM I WRITE TODAY

The poem I wrote yesterday
The poem I write today
The poem I will write tomorrow
What do they all mean?

Life goes on
Even my life will go on for a time
Without them.

True they give me hope now
But hope is another kind of delusion-

Creature of hopes and dreams delusions and poems
I go on now writing another poem hoping that you somewhere
Will want to know and read and remember it.

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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem

THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-

I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-

A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.

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The Feeling of Sleep

As I lay here in bed
The only thing I dread
Is when I wake up tomorrow
And wish for the feeling of sleep

As I finally rest form my long days of work
There is no more ache in my legs
As I lay in my cloud bed
I rest my head on nothing but air
As I drift in to sleep
It feels like happiness is in the air

I can’t feel my body
As I can only dream good dreams
For I love the feeling of sleep
As sleep hit its highest point
I’m no longer responsive
For this is the feeling of sleep

As I descend form my sleep
The ache comes back
as if I never fell asleep
seven hours has pass
but it felt like one hour

this the one thing
that I long for
and that is the feeling of sleep
Poem Writer,
By: Jackie Thielman

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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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This Is My Poem

This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.

This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.

This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.

This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.

This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.

This is my poem of open-ended freedom.

This is my poem breathing life into motion.

This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.

And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..

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A Sick Man's Poem Is A Sad Poem

A SICK MAN’S POEM IS A SAD POEM

A sick man’s poem is a sad poem
Walking, it is out of breath -
It stops and wonders at all the powers it took for granted
It no longer has now-
It wants to be home in bed lying down-
A sick man’s poem wants to sleep
And not care that it any longer is -
It wants rest quiet silence peace and no pain-
A sick man’s poem is out of breath too soon
And wants to lie down.

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There Was A Poem Long Ago

THERE WAS A POEM LONG AGO

There was a poem long ago
A poem of youth and hope
Now there are other poems
Poems of age and sorrow.
There was a poem once
Of love – and happiness in love
Now there is a poem of lovelessness
And sadness.
There was a poem once
Of the long and distant open road
Now there is a poem of the dead end.
There was a poem once
That believed in Poetry
Now there is a poem that knows
Even the most beautiful worlds of words
End in dust
There was a poem once – long ago.

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I Wrote A Nonsense Poem

I WROTE A NONSENSE POEM

I wrote a nonsense poem
It said a nonsense thing
Yesterday is not today
And winter is not spring.

I wrote a nonsense poem
It didn’t have a name
It began and so fast finished
No wonder I’m ashamed.

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