The Logic Of Poetry Has a Color And Shape Of Its Own

THE LOGIC OF POETRY HAS A COLOR AND SHAPE OF ITS OWN

The logic of poetry has a color and shape of its own
Its clear silences ring deeply as paradox confounded into meaning
How many others have made Beauty of words
And still are sung of only by the Silence?

How these days go by longing to remain alive
Because life itself bears within it the best of these most poignant dying moments?

Our doom is certain and our final word never to be clearly heard
But we as we are can be in this world for our time with all its beauty as us-
There is no more wonder than this God gives-

We look out and up each day as a child may still look for its first light above-

No one knows where the darkness ends and even if it is darkness at all
We say the word ‘God’ and all we know and mean is that our greatest meaning must be beyond us – if it is to be at all
‘God’ we say ‘God’
And who are we and what are we
if not a part too of this Beauty somehow greater than we can ourselves ever really hold on to?

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Poetry To Me

What is poetry to me- it is words of beauty-words of life
Words of love, pain and sacrifice.
Words of showing and growing and needing and feeding
Words of hope and despairs, wanting and cares.

Poetry takes you into the minds of mankind
From days of old to the present time.
Poetry takes you on trips that you've never been before
And opens up every door.

Poetry becomes a longing, a want, a desire, a need
On which your mind must feed.
It becomes a life within itself
And takes you to the heavens and down to hell.

Poetry becomes a flaming desire
And only writing can put out this fire.
I call it my passion while others say it's my obsession
Yet! No matter what they may think or say
Poetry is here to stay.

So many different types of poetry
For the different minds 'you see'.
You will always find one that will give you meaning
From a loving heart to one that's bleeding.

Jump on the bandwagon and take a hold
For with poetry ' life unfolds'.

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Poetry of Art or Art of Poetry?

Which came first-poetry or art?
Which of these two is my favorite part?
Poetry speaks to the heart and soul
Through vocalization of written word,
While art molds and shapes formation
Of heart and soul once the poetic art
Of words moves to the shape the heart
Feels inspires visualization and creation
Of such dramatic, deep impact as art
Makes responsive to the poetry that
Inspires it.
Does poetry not speak of art and
Art of poetry?
Each of these takes the form
Of a smiling simile.
Art is the extension of visual beauty,
Words unspoken
As extensively connected as the
Heartfelt extension indepth beauty
Stimulates out of spoken words
Poetry admires and inspires
Deep down in the soul.
Art reflects poetic expression
Poetry visualizes mentally
While are visualizes physically-
Both of which visualize emotionally
When mutually expressed and impressed
Upon each other to create the beauty
That first created it.

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The Beauty Of A Poem

The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.

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A Big Or Brief Poetry......!

Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!

Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?

Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!

Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!

Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!

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Poetry Is Not Just A Game We Play With Words

POETRY IS NOT JUST A GAME WE PLAY WITH WORDS

Poetry is not just a game we play with words-
There is Beauty-
And there is Meaning-
And there is something beyond
What we have heard before
Music also-

Poetry is not given to final definition
Altered as it is and augmented
by every true new voice -

But then too
Without that play of words
How poetic can the poetry be?

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The Poem Is Written Against The Silence Of Where Nothing Happens

If the poem is written against the silence of where nothing happens
And aims to find a way to make life sing of meaning-
But instead finds itself turning only on its own author's pain
Then what is the use of it all?

Let Poetry too go lie in its own grave
And rest in silence
With all the billions of human voices
And endless words which have sought Beauty and Greatness and Fame and Honor and Love
And now must lie silent forever as if they never were-

Poetry too can like all its authors die
And if the human light goes out
Rest in darkness forever as if it never were.

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Tribute To All Poets

Poets in awe
beauty of the sea
swimming the ocean
begging to be free

Poetry in motion
Walking the land
Carving out each word
Deep down in the sand

Poets hungry
Devour each page
reach for each meaning
put on a stage

Poetry screams silence
during blackened night
with the glow of the moon
shining silvery white

Poets asleep
thinking each new rhyme
Waltzing the floor
Running in time

Poetry Forever
neither alive or dead
remembering the words
that get stuck in your head

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Is Not!

Round is not round
Square is not square
Paradoxical it may sound
Ultimately so it transpires!

Round of talks is not really round
Back to square is not really square!

Physical beauty is a part of beauty
Ethical beauty is real beauty
Intellectual beauty is immortal beauty
Individual's beauty, beauty of the society!

Beauty of the mind
Beauty of the soul
Need of the mankind
Ugly mind takes its toll!

Honesty is not honesty
Unless shown in trinity
Thoughts, words and deeds
Lest it leads to dishonest deeds!
Logic is not logic
Unless true to the basic

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If The Poem Is Written Against The Silence Of Where Nothing Happens

IF THE POEM IS WRITTEN AGAINST THE SILENCE OF WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS

If the poem is written against the silence of where nothing happens
And aims to find a way to make life sing of meaning
But instead finds itself turning only on its own author's pain
Then what is the use of it all?

Let Poetry too go lie in its own grave
And rest in silence
With all the billions of human voices
And endless words which have sought beauty and greatness and fame and honor and love
And now must lie silent forever as if they never were-

Poetry too can like all its authors die
And if the human light goes out
Rest in darkness forever as if it never were.

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Poetry Is The Language Of Our Deepest Feeling

POETRY IS THE LANGUAGE OF OUR DEEPEST FEELING

Poetry is the language of our deepest feeling
It makes Beauty even of our Darkness
And shares with others our Light.

Without Poetry we would be less in life-
With it,
The inner anguish the soaring of the soul
Our real lives whatever they may be-
Find Meaning in Expression..

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Color My World

Ohhh no
Everybody needs affection
Looking for a deep connection
So put a little bit of love in my life today
Everybody needs some shelter
Let's spend a little time together
Come into my arms
Let them tell you what I wanna say
Color my world
Draw on my heart
Take a picture of what you think of love
Looks like in your imagination
Write on my soul everything you know
Use every word you ever heard
To color my world
Yeah yeah
I've had enough of not believing
Living life without a meaning
I want something real
And I feel it when I'm next to you
Let's vow to have some love and devotion
Winner to my heart's emotions
Until the very end
It's the place I'm gonna keep you in
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Color my world
Draw on my heart
Take a picture of what you think of love
Looks like in your imagination
Write on my soul everything you know (no no)
Use every word that you ever heard
To color my world
Color my world
Yeah
Let's make a world for you and me yeah
That we're never gonna leave (yeahh)
Color my world (why won't you color my world?)
Draw on my heart (yeahh)
Take a picture of what you think of love
Looks like in your imagination
Write on my soul (write on my soul) everything you know
Use every word you ever heard
To color my world (color my world)
Oooh ooh (oh no no)
Won't you do it?
Won't you color my world?
Oooh ooh (ooh ooh)
Oooh ooh (ooh ooh)
Use every word you ever heard
To color my world
Everybody needs affection
Looking for a deep connection
Ohhh
Color my world

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Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.

Poetry...Poetry...

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A Poet Loses His Power For Poetry

A POET LOSES HIS POWER FOR POETRY

A poet loses his power for poetry
He can put down words
But they no longer have poetry in them
Something of the feeling of what real poetry is
is gone.
He strives
He writes again and again
He puts words down in the forms and in the shapes his poems usually take
But he has no poetry in him
He has lost what he is
And all he can do
is strive again and again
Word after word
Silence after silence
To hear within himself again
A voice he does not have.

The poet is writing poetry
And it is not poetry
The poet is dead
And he is pretending to be alive
Is this a poem?
Is he a poet
Is he dead?
Is he alive?

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I Was, Once, Too Beautiful....

first there was a word
you listen carefully
it is uttered
it is not the word
but how beauty presents itself to you
it is awesome

then the word was gone
you have paid no attention to it
it is beauty that
strikes you
and wish some more to see it again

beauty parades itself in nudity
you fell in awesome silence
who can speak about it?
you are shut into a room of amazement
this wish to possess and hold and
not lose the grasp

but beauty does not belong to you
neither does it belong to anyone else
it escapes and then lost forever

time takes it
and time does not give it back

you mourn
but in the middle of your grief
you accept

i too was once
that beauty, so why should i grieve some more?

i too was that beauty
that never was once possessed by someone else

now it is not the grief
but that selfishness
and greed.

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Where Are The Moments Of Beauty And Deepest Feeling

WHERE ARE THE MOMENTS OF BEAUTY AND DEEPEST FEELING

Where are the moments of beauty and deepest feeling?
Of longing so intense it is its own meaning
Of tears in silent pain
Of all of all so much that cannot be said or written?
Where is that beauty I feel and long for
That life which is mine sometimes
But mostly is far far behind me
With those no longer here?

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What Color? (Hope)

what color
was the dust
from which the stars

were made?
what color is the hunger
written on the child's face?

what color is justice,
forgiveness, desire, truth?
what color is the wind....

the rain, gravity,
and knowledge?
what color is equality?

what color is freedom?
what color is eternity?
what color is redemption?

what color is God?
what color were the nails
that hung Jesus on the cross?

what color was enlightenment
falling on the Buddha as he sat
'neath that tree?

what color is prejudice, hatred,
fear, greed, apathy.....
what color your skin?

nay, what color is your blood?
and what color are the eyes
of humanity staring through the darkness?

and what color is hope?

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Life Is More Than Poetry

LIFE IS MORE THAN POETRY

Life is more than Poetry
And Poetry less than Life
And what we live and die for
More than we can write.

But Poetry has a meaning
And a Beauty of its own
And Life more a blessing
When read beyond its prose.

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What's the real meaning of Poetry

Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
what is the real meaning of you?
is it the sonnets, the haiku's the imagery
no one will ever know.

Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
I know the real meaning of you
to express my feelings and thoughts on paper
to be able to publish you.

Poetry, Poetry, Poetry
you tell me the meaning of you.

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beauty! what is BEAUTY? ? ?

beauty! what is beauty
beauty is just a cover
for something
really screwed up in side...
people say why your so beautiful
what more do you want
i want the real meaning of beauty
not just the looks
the looks are only good for an amount of time
then they get to meet the real inside of you
and the beauty disappears
so what is the point of the outer beauty if the inner beauty is dead
beauty what is BEAUTY

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What a Beauty-Full Life

Beauty is in flowers, and the petals
Bathing in the early morning dew

Beauty is in the eyes of a father
When his son takes the first step

Beauty is on the face of a baby,
Sleeping in mother's lap

Beauty is in freedom,
When you fly high on the wings of hope

Beauty is in the expressions of a poor man
When he gets food after eternity

Beauty is in the pride of a teacher
When his student supersedes

Beauty is in the compassion of a devotee
When he finds solace

Beauty is in the innocence of a child
When he asks you questions

Beauty is in the sips of laughter,
You share with your friends

Beauty is in the springs of desire
that arrive after a prolonged autumn

Beauty is in the cry of a woman,
Whose womb succeeds

Beauty is in the silence,
When you don't speak, and you say a lot

Beauty is in the warmth of passion
That builds around the arms of a lover

Beauty is when those small fights,
End with tears of joy

Beauty is when the first raindrop,
Kisses your cheek

Beauty is in perseverance,
When the world's showing off

Beauty is in the enigma,
When everything's certain

Beauty is in a poem,
Where poetry meets prose

Beauty is in little chunks of life,
Filled with joys and sorrows

Beauty is in your eyes,
your heart, and in every single breath

Beauty is when you say,
"What a Beauty-Full Life..."

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