I Wrote My Last Romantic Love Poem A Long Time Ago

I wrote my last romantic love poem a long time ago-
Now I write quieter poems
Poems of the pleasure of the old-
A walk in the morning
A sudden turn of sunlight on a cold cold day
A small kindness I may do
Or someone may do for me
Poems of love for my family
And of sadness at the sickness of my friends
Quiet poems
That do not know the wildness of passion
The bitterness of love disappointed
The up and down motions
Of when she does and when she doesn’t
And all her yeses and nos-
I write quiet poems
And I live happily in them
And I sometimes think with sadness
Of the great passion there was once-
But I am old now
And happy and quiet in small things
Grandchildren, among the best of them.

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The History Poems Have Not Been Written

The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa

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Poems About.

There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.

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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly

NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY

Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.

Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.

Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.

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I don't write poems

I don't write poems,
I drink them like wine,
I become tipsy
with each coming line.

I don't write poems,
I breathe them like air,
I become so happy
when each one I share.

I don't write poems,
I live with them;
they prolong my years,
they are as true as I am.

I don't write poems,
I weave into verses
sadness, joy, tears,
prayers, love, curses…

My poems talk and sing,
Sense of living they bring.

©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
26th of April,2012

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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem

All I can do now is write another poem-

The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-

Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-

A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-

Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-

But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-

I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-

All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-

Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.

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The Sadness Of Life Is Not Its Only Poem

THE SADNESS OF LIFE IS NOT ITS ONLY POEM


The sadness of life is not its only poem-
There are other poems-
Poems of love and happiness-
Poems of laughter-
Poems of being with those one loves-
The sadness of life is not its only poem-
Life has many poems-
Happy ones, also.

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I Did Not Want To Write Poems Of Sadness

I DID NOT WANT TO WRITE POEMS OF SADNESS

I did not want to write poems of sadness
But when sadness takes over one’s life?
The words are what the feelings are
They can try to be better
But ultimately
The true poem is the feelings
And now at this moment
Sadness is the poem
Sadness which waits for the morning light
And prays to God it will be truly ligh

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We Need New Poems

WE NEED NEW POEMS

We need new Poems-

So many great Poems
Have already been written.
Perhaps the Greatest poems
Have already been written.

But we need new poems.

We need our Poems
We need the poems only we can write
We need the poems we must write.

We need new poems
My poems
Your poems
Our poems.

We need new poems.
Let us write them.

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The Poems Written About Poetry

The poems written about Poetry
Seemed to be self- indulgent and self- serving,
The Poet worshipping what he does
And making himself Holy-

But in some other way
They were simply Explorations
Efforts at understanding the Art
And improving the Music-

They were in their own quiet way small adventures
And gifts to other would- be- poets
And lovers of intense lines-

The poems written about the poetry
Were small additions to a long history
Poems about poems-

One kind of poem
In a world
Where there is no end to more and many.

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Happy Endings

some poems are sad but we may help
them to be happy again
to let the poems wear a smile
and let these poems like
fairies dance in the
prairies let them sing the songs
of love and
passion and thanksgiving and
praise and be
so venerable before the throne
of the divine

i read this poem this morning
that has made my day
a very inspiring one indeed
and it was not that long and winding
and direct to the point

it simply said: i love you too.

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An Evening Poem

AN EVENING POEM

An evening poem
Waits for deeper darkness
A night poem knows blackness
As home.
A morning poem is light
An afternoon poem is thick with heat.

All times have a poem
And all seasons poems also
All lives are poems
And all stories also.

We all are and all know poems
Poems pervade us
And the universe.

It is night now
But when the morning comes
Its poem will overshadow now.

What a brave new world it is
With so many poems in it
And what a life-
With such deep sadness
Waiting forever to be unexpressed.

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We Need Poems To Make Us Love Life More

WE NEED POEMS TO MAKE US LOVE LIFE MORE

We need poems to make us love life more
Poems that will make us happier
Poems that will make us kinder, better people.
We need poems that will inspire us
That will add to our sense of the world’s Beauty
We need Poems that will make us love others as we love ourselves as we love God.
We need holy poems
And joyful poems
And blessed poems
And kind poems
We need poems which will make us love life more
Which will help us love others and ourselves more
God more
We need poems.

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An Afternoon Poem Is Rare

AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE

An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-

Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-

Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.

There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.

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The Poem Of Shabbat Morning Is Gone

THE POEM OF SHABBAT MORNING IS GONE

The poem of Shabbat morning is gone-
Forgotten forever
As if it never was.
It came to me
And I could not write it down
And now it is gone.

The world is filled with poems which are lost
And never written down
Great works and great mysteries
Never to really be.

In all those billions of unrecorded lives
That went before us on this earth
There were many many poems lost.

I write this down now
as compensation-

How many poorer poems
have replaced
the true poems
that were once
and never are to be?

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Which Poems Are True and Which Poems Only A Story?

WHICH POEMS ARE TRUE AND WHICH POEMS ONLY A STORY?

Which poems are true
and which poems only a story?

There are poems I have to write
They are the heart of who I am-
And other poems that tell a story my mind makes
And takes me where I do not know I'll ever really be-

There are real poems and there are imaginary poems-
And there are poems-in- between like this one.

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Dream Miracles God Speaks To Soul Mine

I gave God two more poems today
two perfectly harmonic resonating poems

two poems dream mind writ
two poems never to write out
two poems never to public post

the first fruits the best
I vowed to give God
in awaiting dreams I gift


poems to God is gifted best poems
God smiles I watch heaven’s eyes
across cosmos God’s love is given

across created God space prayer given
love gifted given God’s love shines
dream miracles God speaks to soul mine


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Nothing I Do Tells Me The Sadness I Am/ Like The Poems I Have Not Written

Nothing I do tells me the sadness I am
Like the poems I have not written
The love I have not had
The great life yearning beyond my hands
All that I have done
Turning and turning in this life
Comes back to the place
Where all are alone
I would have known about the grave long ago
But I was young then
The true poems are poems of life
And only the chosen of God can write them
As I could not.

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Few Poems Are Remembered

FEW POEMS ARE REMEMBERED

Few poems are remembered -
Few poems are ever really known-
Few poems are chosen -
Few poems make us want to return to them again and again-

Out of thousands written every day
Perhaps one poem in a decade
Perhaps less.

This is not the poem.

One can write a lifetime
Without ever writing one such poem.

Most of us never write the poem
And most of us are not remembered either.

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Was It You Who Wrote Some Poems?

it happens in a crowd
or a party or a reunion
to be exact and short of
any dialogue
you ask,

was it you
who wrote some
poems?

and i say
yes
and i ask why?

and you say
oh i like every poem
there

and i ask
which ones?

the one about love
or passion
or compassion
or was it the poem
that hurts
and makes
one feel the
urge to kill oneself?

and you say
i like the
sad ones
those that
make me cry
and think
of my broken heart

and i say
i never wrote
sad poems

and you say
you swear

i have read
the sad ones
and i really cried
alone

and i say,
i never wrote
them

they write themselves
and i do not really cry anymore

and you say
really?

and i say: i am numb.

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Soap

you wish i were true
to every word i wrote in my poems
like sadness
that i must be sad when my poems
talk about sadness

like separation and disgust and pain
that i must suffer
with the poems i write that i must have despair
and pain too
and disgust
for every word of disgust written in every word
in every line

how cruel of you
how cruel of truth
how can i justify my death when i speak only of death
and in the very poem
where i write the word
death

there is soap
there is this box of untruths in pandora and when i open it
they must spread and you may refuse to believe
me again

but it would be very cruel of you
to make these poems
all these poems be my life my only life
and lived
and day by day lived in accordance with the
mouths of these poems

empathy
is the word, it is like i am putting my feet in another person's
shoes

then i write, and i could have written about this word: happiness
joy, bliss
ecstasy, light, and amazing glory

i choose not to,
i think, i have too much of it, and i do not share it for now
there is no necessity
and i cannot really help

with so much loneliness and sadness out there
with them i stretch my hands to hold them and feel them
and they all become

myself. it is not soap then, and there are no bubbles in the skies
there is no child playing amazed by the bubbles that burst and by the
bubbles that

are so abundant.

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