In The Middle Of The Night
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
In the middle of the night
A poem has to write itself
And these lines
Forced from where they come
Do not know
If they reach the mark or not.
I write poetry, yes,
But am I a true poet?
Am I a true ‘anything’
Or just always
Someone who tries and tries and tries,
And does not know
When to stop?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Related quotes
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!
Who Can Write A Poem In The Middle Of The Night
WHO CAN WRITE A POEM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
Who can write a poem in the middle of the night
When the darkness is still everywhere?
Who can find in the time of deep silence and doubt
Words of happiness and praise to God?
Who can in the lonely hours know
That the day will come with the joy of its light
And the difficulty of its duties?
Who can in this darkness here now
Pray to God
That love and goodness will come to us all
And Kindness be the one word the world most knows?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Middle
IN THE MIDDLE
In the middle of the unending darkness that stretches on beyond forever
In the middle of the vast nowhere whose name has no shadow and no space
In the middle of all the generations whose anonymous past will be complemented by their overextended futures,
In the middle of the mass of nameless mankind featureless
In the middle of all that is and ever has been
In the middle of what was and will be always forever not
In the middle
In one small moment whose end is unpredictable
While the light still shines on the green green world
And the love and joy in the faces and hearts we care for still breathe
In the middle of the moment before consciousness is lost forever
Somewhere nowhere who knows where how
In the middle of all we are and will never be now
In the now of this life
I write these lines for all of us
Passing dreams
Beautiful great souls
True human beings
Better than me and you
And only me and you
For all of us
In the middle
Before the lights go out
And the endless darkness
Is silence and breathlessness
And nothing whatever real
We can feel or be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
poem by Julia Grace
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A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
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Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why are we addicted to Poetry?
We Poets who write,
All day or all night,
That Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
There’s scarce a moment in time,
That thoughts don’t find words in rhyme,
To put into verse,
Whether better or worse,
In that Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
Why do we write all these Verses?
We must have better things to do,
But whatever we try,
And I don’t know why,
We write Poem upon Poem for you.
It’s funny how my style has changed,
It’s a Limerick today I’ve composed,
It wasn’t meant to be,
But it is ~ you can see,
Just Poetry! ! Poetry! ! Poetry! !
© Yisroel Yonatan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 26 January 2006
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
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If Only I Could Write A Beautiful Poem
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would write it special and only to you
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
So that we will forever remain so very very true
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
With more than a goodness like something new
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
Like the everlasting stay of the sky so blue
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would pray to God
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would work very hard for the Lord
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
With happiness the remain all through the year
f only I could write a beautiful love poem
Knowing that you will be very near
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
One so very very true
If only I could write a beautiful love poem
I would write it just for you
poem by Douglas Carter
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The Night Is Deeper Than I Am
THE NIGHT IS DEEPER THAN I AM
THE NIGHT IS DEEPER THAN I AM
The night is deeper than I am
Sleep will soon come
I have no lines I need to write
The words are only what they happen to be now
I wait and try to listen to myself.
I do not have much to say.
The poem written in this way
Will always suffer its own hesitations.
I write because this is who I am and who I need to be
These lines too another proof to myself of who I am
But are they a true proof or just another dreaming?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The time I discovered myself a Poet
I wouldnt say I was patient
but I have an interest in poetry
Is it the dawning of a new error
or will the sky be grey
I write how I see life and it is not always pleasant
I like to write abou experiences that I have been through
my poetry has changed as I ave changed
I see it as a hobby as I write in my grange
My poetry is mainly fiction but I also write about things that are true
I am not a person that would share alot of enthusiasim
poetry is a work of art
on each sheet of blank paper
I put my mark
Poetry is simple in this world of sin
I am not into shakesphere
what I write is authentic
the imagination on paper creates magic
a poem can change an atmosphere
I would like to say my poems mean something
my poems are meant to sting a mind
I want my poems to create pictures for people who are blind
poem by Natasha Browne
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Did Your Love For Him Last?
i am just wondering why you do not
write poetry anymore. I am asking myself
if your having jumped over the fence
yielded the bliss on the other side of things.
Are you too happy to forget the sad refrains
of poetry?
or Are you too sad
mourning over another
love lost
that your hands are too weary
to write another love poem for this
valentine's day?
whatever happened, please write me a love poem
sad or happy, please do write me one
i just want to know what a love poem should be all about
after all those years
when we think we really found the true one.
write me, please a love poem, show me the color
and scent of each word, show me the texture of each line,
show me whether the heart is bleeding
or leaping with joy like the one we used to write before together
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Cat Poem - with discussion
I must not write a poem
because I want to write a poem.
I must try to write the poem
when the poem has to be written.
Yes but what if my cat dies?
Yes, what if my cat dies
and I know my cat lived a
good and honest life
I can write a poem?
I can can’t I
I can have a cat poem can’t I
Life of an honest cat and that
Yes I know, I said the cat was honest
but I didn’t say that I was, and
I lied about the cat
________________________________
Discussion:
The poem begins as a slightly
finger wagging exercise in telling
people not to write just because
they want to write a poem - it must
be DRIVEN by the poem's insistence
on being written. The poet is
unable to sustain this arrogance
hence the cat. Then, using the
cat as an excuse, writes the poem
but in the end has to admit that
the cat was just a device to break
the rule outlined in the 4 opening
lines. (Secretly of course the poet
believes or at least hopes that the
poem is good enough to excuse itself
and be allowed to break the rule.)
But of course it isn't
poem by by unknown author
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Poetry Is Like A Beautiful Work Of Art
A poem has no write or
wrong,
How to write your poem
is up to you,
Visualize a perfect poem
That readers will love,
Adjust a poem as much as
you want,
Remember a poem is like
art,
You write it with meaning
and passion,
Add as much as your heart
desires,
Short or long it does not
matter,
Add a picture with your
poem,
Add a quote or a verse,
it is a poet's decision,
Always be proud of your poem,
Let the words flow when you
write,
A poem expresses a feeling,
thought and emotion,
Add a frame and hang it up
on a wall,
share your talents with the
world,
Poetry is like a beautiful
work of art.
poem by Derek James
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Where I Am Nothing Else Is
Where I am nothing else is -
Loneliness is so sad and so painful
Especially in the middle of the night-
I want to write
But what difference does it make anymore?
More words of the same thing over and over-
Loneliness is especially difficult
When it comes of failure-
I hear pain talking in me now-
I have the great lines
But what will they give me in the end-
It is the middle- of- the – night
But somehow there will come morning
And I will forget how lonely I am
And run out to pray Shacharit
In a minyan of strangers
Who certainly do not know my name.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wrote A Poem I Did Not Know The Meaning Of
I WROTE A POEM I DID NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF
I wrote a poem I did not know the meaning of-
I understood whatever I understood of it
Was only one of many misunderstandings-
I wondered then whether my Poetry is nonsense-
I know it isn’t because it tells my true feeling.
But this too is perhaps only another interpretation and another misunderstanding-
I write this poem as if I know what it is all about -
But what if it is only my misinterpretation of the real poem
I never could write?
And what if these lines are some deliberate pretentious unnecessary small confusion no one needs,
Even my dream?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Why Do I Write Poetry?
Why do I write Poetry?
The answer is not plain to see,
As a Legal Cashier I earn my Living,
For me and my family.
Why do I write Poetry?
Thoughts come to me in rhyme and verse,
They have to be worked on continually
To make those lines seem terse.
Why do I write Poetry?
One day HE’ll answer me,
Hopefully while I’m on this Earth,
Before I reach Eternity.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why must my lines scan and rhyme?
Not only on this occasion,
But forever, and all the time.
Why do I write Poetry?
Why put them on your website?
To leave my Thoughts and Visions of Life,
To you all and posterity.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 9 April 2005
poem by Jonathan Goldman a.k.a JGthepoet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Restricted Area
High voltage in the air
No way to know its good or bad
Dont try to trick it down
Otherwise you could be dead
So just look out
It may be mean
Just cant be too afraid of this machine
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
Restricted area
Your brains been mesmerized
And in your mind this place is full of steel,
So full of steel
So shift to overdrive
Crash away the gang with the men from another space
So be aware
Just leave the scene
The worlds been metallized by this machine
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
The worlds been metallized
A hole in the middle of the night
Restricted area
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Its a restricted area
Hold on - hold on - hold on
Your brains been mesmerized
A hole in the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
Youre heavy metallized
A hole in the middle of the night
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wanted A Poem/But There Was No Poetry In Me
I WANTED A POEM/ BUT THERE WAS NO POETRY IN ME
I wanted a poem
But there was no poetry in me
I said to myself from outside,
‘Write the feeling of a song'
But I had no song within me-
Poetry did not flow
No music moved me
I was alone with a Mind
That had no heart or song-
And then I writing
Simply tried to listen to myself
And what I heard
Was these awkward non- poetic lines
That make a poem
Which is not true poetry
And yet here now
proclaims its own rhythm as this page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Where Is The Poem I Have Waited For All My Life?
WHERE IS THE POEM I HAVE WAITED FOR ALL MY LIFE?
Where is the poem I have waited for all my life?
The one poem that would say to me,
“You are a true poet, at last”
Where is the poem
Which would make me be Poetry?
Where?
The years have gone
Have I labored in vain?
The darkness comes
Light will not come again.
I try and I write still
But I will never know
Poetry will live,
But I soon will go.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Night Should Write A Poem
THE NIGHT SHOULD WRITE A POEM
The night should write a poem
The mere ‘look’ of it
The lights- the different depths of darkness-
The night should write a poem
But tonight
The heat
The windlessness
The ugly close black sky,
All say that
Even the simple seen world
Cannot always answer
Our longing.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Is Time To Write Another Kind Of Poetry
IS TIME TO WRITE ANOTHER KIND OF POETRY
It is time to write another kind of poetry-
To leave behind the self-reflection
The poems on the poet the poem and the poetry -
It is time to rediscover that the world is rich in unsaid dreams
And the poet must see too the beauty of what has been unsaid before
And what has been said many times before -
It is time to write another kind of poetry
And to leave myself as poet subject behind-
I have not yet done this here
But tomorrow and the next day perhaps
There will be other worlds.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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