The Fierce Poem Escapes Me
The fierce poem escapes me
The deepest intensity is not here-
In calm I write
In calm I listen-
Quiet and easy now
Waiting in the blessing of my own long silence-
The fierce poem escapes me
The deepest intensity is not here
I am no longer young
And my words have the wisdom
Of a tiredness I too barely know how to bear.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is A Time To Write A Poem
THERE IS A TIME TO WRITE A POEM
There is a time to write a poem
It is anytime the soul is waiting to be said-
It is anytime the deepest feeling must be expressed-
It is anytime the words come before they are written down-
It is any time of intense holiness,
Of deepest love in words-
There is a time to write a poem
When the whole of one's being hears a song that must be said.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fierce Words Of Feeling- The Anger
The fierce words of feeling- the anger
They are the poem-
The hurt which cries and screams and demands
Its own expression-
The fierce words of feeling
Which rage on against the night and the darkness and the beauty and the pain and all the loss and all the love
And demand some other kind of freedom beyond what any human being has ever known
Beyond and yet more beyond -
The fierce words of feeling
That come out of the deepest darkest most primitive part of ourselves
But connect with what we most really are
In saying,
‘No no no not again' to all this pain and dying and sadness
The fierce words of feeling- No.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With All The Reading and Writing I Do
With all the reading and writing I do
With all the work of the mind and heart
There comes a time
It can be any time
There comes a time
When the Poem must enter-
The Poem?
The deeper feeling-
The Music of the soul-
What I most need to say inside
The Writing which somehow surpasses all the other
In its inner intensity in its deepest feeling –
I write a poem now
All my heart mind soul
Go into every word and phrase.
The Poem? The Poem?
For which I write to live
And which through writing
I most live in Writing-
The Poem that this is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Prayer Should Be A Poem
A PRAYER SHOULD BE A POEM
A prayer should be a poem
Deepest in feeling
It should praise God
With all the soul-
And fear God
With all the heart-
And petition God
With all our inner being -
A prayer should be a poem
Our deepest poem
Of Need and Love-
Said in the words
God gave us
And in the words
We give to God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Was Alone With A Poem I Could No Longer Write
I WAS ALONE WITH A POEM I COULD NO LONGER WRITE
I was alone with a poem I could no longer write-
It was a love poem
A poem of youth
A poem of great sudden happiness
And terrible desolate loss
It was a poem of wild laughter
And a poem of despair which could never end
It was a poem of youth
Of love in youth
And I could not write it any more
Because I am not young
And love that kind of love
The love of the young in all its desperation and beauty
Is far far from me-
I was alone with a poem I could no longer write-
And my life too is such a poem
Where only I am real
And she - whoever she is-
Is never to be anymore.
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 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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Everything In Poetry Is Allowed
everything in poetry is allowed
so much sweat had been wasted
so many words alienated from their own meanings
on the issue of which is true poetry
enough of that
let me state once more that everything in poetry is allowed
whatever is it that comes from your mouth
that slips from your lips
becomes a poem by the intensity of your intention
today my mouth gives birth to bees
and i am telling you a poem is a swarm of bees
like a set of hands spreading some prayers
tonight i shall dream of words escaping from my mouth
i see them as snakes singing
oh, i see, i am telling you a poem is a choir of snakes hissing a song
(do you really imagine that? am i not a little bit
weird?)
i never tire giving birth to words, and images, and metaphors
and a poem never gets weary like the insomniac still not wanting to sleep
oh, i see, you too must have words like these
those that never sleep, you see? what a poem can be?
a poem is a set of sleepless words, smoking at night, looking over the window,
naked, like a very beautiful woman, looking for love.
you want things to make connections? hmm, don't be silly, some connections
do not seem to be
takes time, sometimes, takes even death upon one's self, to see the light.
but don't you worry, whatever is it, becomes a poem by the intensity of your
affections.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Problems Of The World
THE PROBLEMS OF THE WORLD
The problems of the world-
The problems of my own little life-
Problems and problems and problems.
A poem solves no problems
It escapes into itself
And makes a small world
In which the poet can hide.
The poem is the other world
The one where there is quiet and peace and calm and love
And all which makes one’s own dreams
A morning song.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Always Is The Music Heard Inside
Not always is the music heard inside-
Not always do the poems come-
Tiredness and emptiness are often silence,
And ‘wanting' a poem is not enough
To make a poem come-
Still if one listens long enough
If one really waits to hear
If one trusts oneself and one's own inner song,
In time
There will be again some hint of beauty
That needs to be expressed-
For those who live in poetry
And for those who bear it with them
Wherever they go,
The poem will come eventually
If God gives it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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An Aged Man's Poem
An aged man’s poem
Need not rage;
Peace and quiet
Calm the page-
Courage in sickness
And through pain-
Loving kindness
For all who remain.
Words of comfort
For longtime friends -
Resignation
Before the end.
An aged’s man’s poem
Should hopefully be
Blessing and Trust
In Eternity-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am Too
I AM TOO TIRED TO WRITE A GOOD POEM
I am too tired to write a good poem
I am too cold also
I have been out all day in the cold and the rain
I have been doing errands since early in the morning
I babysat for four hours in the afternoon
I went out again in the cold and rain to buy a few groceries
I tried to write and could not
I read and overate a few times
I tried to write
But I could not
I am very tired now
A poem should not be a simple clear description of one’s own mood at the moment
I am too tired to write a good poem
But I try to write
And this is the result
A poor poem indeed.
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE PARENTS I HAD AND HAVE
I am grateful for the parents I had and have
They are still with me
I miss them
Sometimes they appear in my dreams
When I am walking I think of them
I see them at various ages of their lives
My father young tall strong
My mother smiling kind warm in strong middle age
My father bent on his way to the senior citizens
My mother in a wheelchair no longer even half herself
Or in the pictures of them in their youth
As I never saw them in life
I think of them and miss them
Their dreams their loves are in me
Yesterday I was with a great – grandchild of theirs
Who they never have seen or will see
How happy that smiling calm child would have made them
Life is difficult and long and filled with loss and blessing
How I will love and miss my parents always
How they still live in me
And hopefully in what comes after me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting And Wanting To Write Something Else
WAITING AND WANTING TO WRITE SOMETHING ELSE
Waiting and wanting to write something else
The spirit of poetry comes to me
It does not say a specific subject or theme
It has no meaning in mind for itself
But it sings in me
It calls to me
It says ‘now you have the music- let it flow’
And I write it down now
Not as if it is my poem or your poem or anyone’s poem
But only words which God is kind enough to give me
As God has given me so much else which I can be grateful for
A poem to You then
Who have so many poems
And need not my poem
Thank You God My Father.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Write Me A POEM
wrtie me a poem.
why don't you write me a poem?
you other girls get cars and money.
write me a poem.
all i want is a poem. a long beutiful poem.
write me a poem.
poetry is like making love. long and beutiful.
write me a poem.
i don't need your money or cars. all i want is your words.
so please,
WRITE ME A POEM.
written by bleeding mascara
poem by Shadow Eyes
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The Silence Of Nothing To Say
The silence of nothing to say
Is forcibly broken by the will for words
A poem is made not born
And there are nights when only determination can say anything-
I write now in the shadow of the night
When all the light is artificial
When inside me is only an empty emptiness
A quiet of nothing deep or beautiful –
I can make a poem out of nothing
But then it may be nothing too
Words alone are not enough
The truer poem comes out of something deeper I do not have now
Let the words play
Let the silence be broken
Let this night be written down
For the empty poem it is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A Friend Who Says That She Does Not Know How To Write A Poem Anymore
it is sad, when you think that you do not know
how to write a poem anymore
a simple poem as simple as you
what does it take for humanity to write one poem?
does it take that much from those who claim they know the way?
shall blood be shed to drive another point?
do not lose hope in the power of our ordinary words,
for as long as we quiver, poems are written
for as long as we lose the consciousness about our beings
the metaphors always come and build upon themselves their own meanings
take your time, breathe the air of poetry, and let the molecules
enter your lungs that long to see the light of the sun,
just be patient, keep on waiting, savor the silence, shower yourself
with the light of the moon, on another lonely night,
sleep soundly, and listen to the sound of your snores,
in your dreams, the poems write themselves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Poem
I wanted to write a poem in red
with all the qualities that red has:
texture, light, sound, urgency and intensity that red has
Because I'm tired of blue poems or yellow
I wanted to write a poem in red.
poem by Lauro Marques
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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