In The Place Where No One Else Is
In the place where no one else is
I sit alone-
The sun shines on my notebook
I write these lines
So peacefully
So happily-
The morning sun is stronger
Warming me restfully-
I don't have to do this morning
Anything I do not want to do-
These lines flow easily
As if writing and being in inner peace
Were one and the same gift always.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Related quotes
Lines
I asked
Happiness
To give me
Some lines
To write
Happily…
It grimaced
And said -
There was
Nothing
In its booty.
It felt so empty.
So to help me
It went out of the way
To borrow some lines
From sadness and gave
Those to me.
So here I am
Writing some lines
To you, borrowed
From my friends -
Messrs. Happiness
And Sadness who
Were kind enough
To lend some lines
To me....for thee....
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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I Fear My Own Silence
I FEAR MY OWN SILENCE
I fear my own silence
I fear the end in life in writing
Before my life has ended-
I force myself to go on
I feel my own inadequacy
I feel I am writing poor lines.
I sense it would make more sense to stop
I should stop
I can’t stop
I need to write
Even if my writing is only the scribbling of an amateur fool who has wasted his life in words and more words
I write this now in the darkness before the morning has begun
Will I walk to Shul this morning justified?
Or do I know these lines now too
More of the same self- indulgent nonsense
No one needs but myself?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Morning
In the morning when the moon is at its rest,
You will see me at the time I love the best
Watching rainbows play on sunlight;
Pools of water iced from cold night,in the morning.
tis the morning of my life.
In the daytime I will meet you as before.
You will find me waiting by the ocean floor,
Building castles in the shifting sands
In a world that no one understands,
In the morning.
tis the morning of my life,
In the morning of my life the
Minutes take so long to drift away
Please be patient with your life
Its only morning and youre still to live your day
In the evning I will fly you to the moon
To the top right hand corner of
The ceiling in my room
Where wll stay until the sun shines
Another day to swing on clothes lines
May I be yawning
It is the morning of my life
It is the morning of my life
In the morning
In the morning
In the morning
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Write A Few Lines
IF I WRITE A FEW LINES
If I write a few lines
My mind will open
My heart will take heart
I will begin to believe in myself again.
If I write a few lines
I will say that I still somewhere am alive,
Writing these lines
In such deep deep sadness and trouble,
I try
And word by word
Squeeze out a bit of Hope.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In The Morning
(1966) barry gibb
In the morning when the moon is at its rest,
You will see me at the time I love the best
Watching rainbows play on sunlight;
Pools of water iced from cold night,in the morning.
tis the morning of my life.
In the daytime I will meet you as before.
You will find me waiting by the ocean floor,
Building castles in the shifting sands
In a world that no one understands,
In the morning.
tis the morning of my life,
In the morning of my life the
Minutes take so long to drift away
Please be patient with your life
Its only morning and youre still to live your day
In the evning I will fly you to the moon
To the top right hand corner of
The ceiling in my room
Where wll stay until the sun shines
Another day to swing on clothes lines
May I be yawning
It is the morning of my life
It is the morning of my life
In the morning
In the morning
In the morning
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can A Sick Man Write A Morning Poem?
CAN A SICK MAN WRITE A MORNING POEM?
Can a sick man write a morning poem?
Can a man short of breath write anything?
I try-
My own banal reflections on my own condition are the poem-
A small confession of where I am today –
I have the strength -
I have written these lines -
Perhaps the morning light today
Is real after all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Ode To Happiness
Ode to happiness
Joy cometh in the morning.
May only peace reign.
All our hope comes from above.
Wars shall truly cease,
When that which is perfect comes.
Rejoicing always
We shall overcome sin’s grasp,
When Heaven arrives!
The Earth will sing a new song.
Every knee shall then bend down!
A Choka Poem goes like this:
1st 3 lines = 5,7,5 syllables
2nd 3 lines = 7,5,7 syllables
Ending 2 lines = 7 syllables each
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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This Morning I Rebel Against Myself
THIS MORNING I REBEL AGAINST MYSELF
This morning I rebel against myself
Without enthusiasm I approach the page
I do not know where I should go right now
Empty as I am I am afraid.
Yet hearing echoes of a greater voice
And knowing Inspiration real through you
I laugh and wonder if your Greatness makes
A mockery of all I’ll ever do.
Dear Shakespeare in whose most casual lines
Poetry beyond all I strive to seem
I hear you through my minor reverie
Undermine the rhythm of my dream.
So in poor imitation I now write
Lines that won’t survive this angry night.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Why Do I Need These Few Lines So?
WHY DO I NEED THESE FEW LINES SO?
Why do I need these few lines so?
I write and I write
Wherever I go.
Nothing I am
And nothing I’ll be
But writing is what
Makes me-me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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No Poem This Morning?
NO POEM THIS MORNING?
No poem this morning?
Despair
And the effort at poetry
As the way of contending with it-
These lines
Like so many lines
Written for myself
With the hope that they might also be of help
to someone else.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Each Time Is Not Its Own Time Alone
EACH TIME IS NOT ITS OWN TIME ALONE
Each time is not its own Time alone
But contains within it
All the Contradictions
Other times may bring it.
Here I am tired in the morning
Beginning my day with weak lines
Who knows when in the course of the day
I will come alive
Perhaps I have just now
And writing these lines
Proof
Of my real
Poetic Existence.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Peacefully Delight In Peace
Peacefully delight in peace
Peace be peacefully in peace,
Peacefully to peaceful
Peace seekers on peaceful
Peace missions, who in peaceful peace,
Peacefully ended up peace in peace
Peacefully,
Peacefully, peaceful Peace peacefully in peace is like a peacefully peaceful
Peace piece pinned at a peaceful
Peacefully pitch in Peace, Peered in Peace
Peacefully by every peacefully
Peaceful eye in the name of peace,
Peaceful Peace peacefully in peace peaceful is passed peacefully in Peace, peaceful from peacefully
Peaceful peace believers in peace peacefully to peaceful peace
Peaceful peace seekers,
Peacefully
Peace in peace be peacefully to peaceful
Peace believers of peace who in Peace peacefully peaceful delight in peaceful
Peace.
Peacefully in peaceful peace peacefully delight in peaceful peace peacefully for peace in peace.
poem by Iyamuremye Wilfred
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It's Late To Write A Poem
It’s late to write a poem-
It’s almost time to go-
And yet now as I was about to leave
The spirit of poetry came to me
And I feel in me lines that want to be written-
So as I quietly calmly surely write these lines down now
I know
The world can wait a long time for a real poem-
But when it comes
Oh how the sky opens up and the dreams go on happily on their journey.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Hard
I try to write about my feeling
Though for others they don't have meaning
First few lines I can write easily
But those last ending lines are silly
To write it takes a lots of time
Hours to just complete last line
My few poems are not even complete
I try and try but cant, so I omit
And move to next poem
And finally complete
I now know to write it's too tough
So to all, who pour their feeling on paper "hats off"
The end
poem by Sushanta Rokka
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All The Poems Remain Written Where They Once Never Were
ALL THE POEMS REMAIN WRITTEN WHERE THEY ONCE NEVER WERE
All the poems remain written where they once never were
The grass and the skies of Whitman form lines in the mind of Baudelaire
The trees and dark cities of the distance form single sounds in the heart of the poet who cares
Night is more than darkness and day more than an early setting out
Each thing influences the other and calls back its own origins and end
We are going somewhere we will never know whether we write eternal lines or not
Over everywhere can be heard in the morning light the selfsame sound that through the heart of Ruth burned the alien corn
Keats is not dead, and Borges is not dead and Kafka is not dead and Wordsworth and all those who wrote great lines are not dead
Poetry is the last first eternity of the living word
And those who can hear the sounds of others greater than themselves in their own lines know
We are all writing down this last poem for ourselves and no one else
Though as we go to pray each morning the minyan tells us secretly
All our prayers together are more than any single poem can be alone
In the grey long distance where no one hears any poem at all
God writes and rewrites for us all the book of the stars in which dread is no longer a name
And beauty bright bright beauty is heard and reechoed as more than we will ever be
God is the only Poetry in the End
God is the Only One who never will be dead..
poem by Shalom Freedman
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As full lines of battle could not be handled through the thick wood, I ordered the advance of the six brigades by heavy skirmish lines, to be followed by stronger supporting lines.
quote by James Longstreet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am An Old Man Writing A Poem
I AM AN OLD MAN WRITING A POEM
I am an old man writing a poem
I have been writing a poem all my life
The lines seem somewhat blurred now
But what I have written
Will say I hope
Something of what we are
And what we have been
And what we will be.
I am an old man still writing a poem
And I love with all my heart all those
Who have lived their lives-
in one way or another – with me
I do not know how to thank you-
I write these lines to thank you
And pray for the goodness and blessing
Of your lives and the lives of those you love-
And will love-
Now here
And in all your time to come.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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