The Gift Was Given To Me
THE TGIFT WAS GIVEN TO ME
The Gift was given to me
and new worlds within
could be found and made
again and again-
If I wanted the Stars in my words
They would play their Light for me-
If I wanted Darkness
Heavens and Hells have their loss in long songs-
I knew I could write and write
many imaginary and many real things-
But what did it all mean?
I was only one more soul
in a universe where God
has given many many words
amd many many gifts
many clearly greater than mine-
What are all my searchings and singings
for Beauty and Love and Goodness
If God does not need them?
I was given a gift
and it may be I am mocked for my gift-
So I write these words too in fear, in gratitude, in irony.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Giving Up (The Last Script)
Long ago I wrote a script
About how I hate to write,
It is called A Cursed Gift
You will find it on this site.
About how I hate finding the words
That hurt me deep within my heart,
How I want this skill to end right now
Leave my hand, let us part.
How I hate to write about love
And how the pain follows near,
How I never want to find the words
The painful words I deathly fear.
I really don't want to love again
So I can avoid the following break,
I said I was tired of finding words
'In which I write as I shake.'
Love is cruel with hurtful pains
But writing it is the worst,
I'm giving up on all of it
Love, pain, and gift so cursed.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Had The Gift To Inspire You With Heroic Words
If I had the gift to inspire you with heroic words
I would tell you that I do not fear death
And that against Time and its ruins
I will stand strong to the end-
If I had the gift to inspire you with heroic words
I would tell you that at the hardest times the darkest times
One’s inner light must light the way again-
I would tell you that beyond every inhumane cruel challenge
Can come your most saving action-
If I had the gift to inspire you with heroic words
I would say that we need not ever be afraid of anyone or anything again-
But I do not have the gift and I do not have such courage-
I have only the examples of others more heroic than me
That seem to come from another universe
And have powers I never knew humans could have-
If I had the gift to inspire you with heroic words
I would say ‘Go to Others More Courageous than me
They will lead you to great victories
And with them you can sing to the end of your days
Praise and praise again for what you are'-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted To Write The Most Beautiful Poem
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one beyond any music I had known-
The one which would reveal the changes
in yellows and greens
spring sunlight whispered to the trees
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one which would tell the stories of all those I have loved and cared for-
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
As a poem of Kindness-
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
Of sublime and overpowering distance
Of stars when stars were dreams -
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem-
But I knew many other poems already written
Would always be far more beautiful than mine-
So I tried to write the most beautiful poem I could-
But the light outside
The world and its colors
The beauties we see and hear everyday
Said to me again and again,
'Walk more humbly with your God and do Justice and love Mercy also'.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wrote A Poem I Could Not Write
I wrote a poem I could not write-
And then when I tried to write it again
Could not write it again -
Poems written and not written
Words and more words
What do they mean?
Paradoxes and games with words
What do they mean?
If there is Beauty in the language
It is one thing
But words just to hear themselves think,
Why should they mean ‘Remembrance'?
Oh Words oh Questions oh Darkness oh Life-
Let me write myself to the grave
Believing at least
That poems too even when they can be written
Have their small unhidden meanings.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Know There Are More Poems In Me Than I Can Ever Write
I KNOW THERE ARE MORE POEMS IN ME THAN I CAN EVER WRITE
I know there are more poems in me
Than I can ever write
I know that I will die
With thousand upon thousands
Of unwritten memories
And songs, dreams and perceptions-
I know each poem
A small sample
Of a larger universe
I myself cannot encompass
Words upon words
Worlds upon worlds which
Will die when I die.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why I Write!
why do i write?
and what makes it real?
be it clever use of words
and phrase... rhymes,
cadence, hidden meanings....
no, what makes it real
is this: when you can
take the tears from a
hungry child's face...
and write them with a
naked hand... and give
them as a gift so intimate
and near to the heart,
that it causes someone else
to feel this hunger, and
to want to do something
about it, to get involved....
that's why i write!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Greatest Gift
When Christmas shopping is done,
wrapped gifts lie ‘neith a tree
sparkling bright with tinsel and light
for everyone to see.
Each gift has been selected
with thoughtfulness and care.
Toys and such will mean so much
like all the gifts we bear.
But let us keep within our heart
the much greater gift than these.
One from above, with God's great love
should bring us to our knees.
A gift of birth to all on Earth.
A gift that's far from small.
To everyone, He gave His Son…
The greatest gift of all.
poem by Ron Tranmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Will Write About You, God
I will write about You,
With my last breath I would.
Your Hand's upon my pen,
Your Words in mind again.
Tried to veer away from it,
Tried some drama and some wit,
But You are so persistent,
Gave the score for my content.
You will not let me go,
I plant Your Words, they will grow
In hearts of hardened soil so barren,
You draw them in, the souls of men.
Now is the time, now is the season,
To write Your Words that is the reason
This gift was given, it's for You.
Until the end...I will write about You.
'For it is God Who works in You, to will and to do according to His good purpose.'
Philippians 2: 13
----
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
June 5,2009
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pop Singer
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
Never had no weird hair to get my songs over.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer (writing) of pop songs.
Never wanted to have my picture taken.
Now, who would want to look into these eyes?
Just want to make it real - good, bad or indifferent.
Thats the way that I live and thats the way that Ill die (as a)
Pop singer (of) pop songs.
Pop singer, writing of pop song.
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never want to write no pop songs.
Never wanted to have a manager over for dinner.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer, writing pop songs.
Never wanted to be no pop singer, of pop songs.
A pop singer.
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ask Me Tomorrow
i wanted to write you a poem
ode to the best time of my life
but
i forgot the words, my thousand descriptions of you
i only know they taste like honey
i wanted to speak them
but
the lump in my throat held them captive, poor pretty words
but
one day perhaps
when we stand toe to toe
they'll trickle out
and seep into your heart
but
till then, I'll try again tomorrow
to coax the words on paper to become
the poem that i want to write for you
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted To Write The Poems Of The Stars
I WANTED TO WRITE THE POEMS OF THE STARS
I wanted to write the poems of the stars
The poem of Beauty and Hope and Inspiration
I wanted to write a poem that helped others
Find Joy and Meaning in their lives -
I write my little poems
Often they are the sad truths of my own little life
Consolations for myself
I think may perhaps echo the souls of others.
I am not what I would have been
And perhaps not what I should be
I am what I am
What G-d has given me to be -
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write The Songs
Ive been alive forever,
And I wrote the very first song.
I put the words and the melodies together,
I am music,
And I write the songs.
I write the songs that make the whole world sing.
I write the songs of love and special thing s.
I write the songs that make the young girls cry.
I write the songs, I write the songs.
My home lies deep within you,
And Ive got my own place in your sole.
Now, when I look out through your eyes,
Im youg again, even though Im very old.
Chorus
Oh my music makes you dance
And gives your spirit to take a chance,
And I wrote some rock n roll so you can move.
Music fills your heart,
Well, thats a real fine place to start.
Its from me its for you,
Its from you, its from me,
Its a world wide symphony.
Chorus
I am music, and I write the songs.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write
Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write And Write And Write And Write
I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE
I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poem Is For You
The ferocious medium of exchange,
My hands did eventually separate from,
My life is a long pillar my dear,
Sustainable in another's life,
I dont have much to plant,
Neither do I have fruit to produce,
My gift are my words,
This poem is for you
I would want to make you happy,
To take you where the water is bluest,
To lay you where the grass is greener,
Everything you desire, I wish to provide,
My pockets are empty my dear,
Yet my mind full of words,
My gift are my words,
This poem is for you
If would just pick a diamond,
Or maybe it rained gold on me,
The fortune is not on me,
The old legends do not exist anymore,
Should I buy miracles for you,
Your happiness is what I long for,
Should I be a thief to please you,
Or maybe a gambler to buy your smile,
I may not take your out for dinner,
Certainly my love will be deeper,
My gift are my words,
This poem is for you
Im not a super hero I know,
Neither the Mr. Nice guy Im sure,
Im not the charmer, nor the sweet guy
Fame exist in exception of me,
My gift are my words,
This poem is for you
I dont pursue prestigious careers,
Neither a pharmacist, nor a bio scientist,
But can walk for you in the mist,
To make you happy, I have no income,
But nomatter the distance, I can come,
Im not a man of many talents,
But im a man of many words,
My gifts are my words,
This poem is for you
Open up your heart,
Younger I know I am,
Open up your heart,
Way out of your league I am,
Open up your heart,
My gifts are my words yes
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Michael Picasso
(ian hunter)
(transcribed by justin purington)
Once upon a time
Not so long ago
People used to stand and stare
At the spider with the platinum hair
They thought you were immortal
We had our ups and downs
Like brothers often do
But I was there for him
He was always there for me
And we were there for you
How can I put into words
What my heart feels?
Its the deepest thing
When somebody you love dies
I just wanted
To give something back to you
Gift to gift
Michael, michael picasso good night
You used to love our house
You said it was relaxing
Now I walk in the places you walk
I talk in all the spaces you talk
It still hasnt sunk in
Are the words real
That come into my head
On a morning walk?
Do the shadows
Play tricks with my mind?
For it feels like
Nothing has changed
But I know it has
Michael, michael picasso
Good night
Heal me
Wont you
Heal me?
Nothing lasts forever
Set me free
Heal me
Wont you
Heal me?
Im the one whos left here
Heal me
Heal me
Heal me
You turned into a ghost
Surrounded by your pain
And the thing that I liked the least
Was sitting round hasker street
Lying about the future
And we all sit
In a room full of tears
On a windy day
And I looked out
But none of these words seem right
I just wanted
To give something back to you
Gift to gift
Michael, michael picasso
Good night
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Couldn't Write The Poem I Wanted To Write
I couldn't write the poem I wanted to write-
I do not know why exactly
Some days it works
And some nights it works
And some times it just does not work at all-
I couldn't write the poem I wanted to write-
There have been so many things in my life
I have wanted to do
And not been able to-
As I grow older
I fear there will be more and more simple things
I will not be able to do.
So much of what we are
Is in these failures-
I sometimes think how sad it is
That I have failed in so many things-
All my life I have known failures
And it will not end until I do-
I couldn't write the poem I wanted to write,
And this is not it, either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem In The Early Morning-Even Before The Darkness Had Gone
I WANTED A POEM IN THE EARLY MORNING
I wanted a poem in the early morning
Even before the darkness had gone-
I wanted to hear words
That meant music
That said I was alive and could write-
I wanted a poem in the early morning
So that I could be justified
For the rest of the day-
Time and again I have written that poem
I write it now -
How wonderful when it flows as if it is real
I may never know that it is
But in writing it, thank God, I feel alive and blessed
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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