The Morning Writes Its Own Poem
THE MORNING WRITES ITS OWN POEM
The morning writes its own poem
The light is its poem
We need the light of the morning
After the long darkness of night
The morning is hope
The morning is beginning
The morning is a new day
A new world -
We need the morning
And we need to begin again
And we need to feel life has hope
And we need to love the world
And to believe that walking out into it
Begins another day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Not Every Morning Is A Poem
NOT EVERY MORNING HAS A POEM
Not every morning has a poem
Not every morning has the light one needs
Not every morning is a new beginning
Not every morning is what morning should be.
Still this morning I will try
As I most often try
To feel from the first step outside
That morning is a new day.
God, how long has it been
With all these days and all this effort
And all these needings to begin again?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is No Poem/Like The Poem Of The Morning
THERE IS NO POEM/ LIKE THE POEM OF THE MORNING
There is no poem
Like the poem of the morning-
The poem of beginning again-
The poem of light-
The poem of hope-
The poem of a new world.
Even when one is old,
The poem of the morning
Is a new poem.
And we need new poems.
We need mornings-
We need light-
We need hope-
The poem of a new day
Of beginning again
Even when one is old.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Poem For Me Somewhere This Morning
THERE IS A POEM FOR ME SOMEWHERE THIS MORNING
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I will find it somehow
Perhaps it is in the memory of my father
Whose Yahrtzeit is today
Twenty- two years.
Perhaps it is as it is often
In the morning light
When I first walk outside to Shul
Perhaps it is in the deep need for a poem
For my own justification
Perhaps it is in my daughter’s search
For poems of inspiration
Perhaps it is in many things mixed together
Most of which I have not yet
And may never bring to mind
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
I am writing it now
It is not beautiful
And not the best
And maybe even not much of a poem
There is a poem for me somewhere this morning
And I am not alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Know I Have A Poem Within Me
I KNOW I HAVE A POEM WITHIN ME
I know I have a poem within me
I feel myself waiting for it to be written
The morning light
Oh the morning light again
So old so tired so afraid so nowhere yet all my life
I try and try again
More words
More light
The morning is just beginning again
How many times have I written this poem?
How many times has God blessed me with the morning light?
So so much has been given me
And I am always feeling how I always lack.
Let the light shine for all of us this day, kindly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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How Many Times Have I Written The Morning As A Poem?
How many times have I written the morning as a poem?
This morning too is a poem-
How bright and beautiful
How filled with light
How flower- rich and spring scented
How quiet and calm
How new
How fresh the world beginning again
The morning is the poem today also
though I cannot know what will be
in the day to come.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is A Poem No Morning Can Right
There is a poem no morning can right
It is the poem of the night
It is a dark poem and a deep poem
A poem of unrest and unquiet
It does not know its own name
And redefines itself through indecipherable disturbing dreams-
The poem of the night
Is not the poem I want to write-
But some nights it writes me without my asking for it-
And when the morning comes
I invariably rush to something else
So it may be erased.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Father
Father, blessed father,
Its morning again.
I give you, father, myself, father,
Continue your plan.
I know together we can climb mountains in the sky.
No one can stop us when Im standing by your side.
Troubles knocking here again;
Ill tell him jesus has me by his hand.
Hell walk me through.
Father, loving father,
Create in me
A pure love, father, your love, father,
Instill it in me.
I remember the nights Ive cried for you;
Now I only have to die for you;
Thank you, lord, youve made it clear just for me.
I see the light;
Its burning out the night.
Oh, father,
Its morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
Morning.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem Of Life Is Love
THE POEM OF THE MORNING IS LIGHT
The Poem of the Morning is Light
The Poem of the Night is Darkness
The Poem of Life is Love
The Poem of Death is Sadness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem Of The Morning/ Waits To Be Written
THE POEM OF THE MORNING
The poem of the morning
Waits to be written
It does not know its name is silence
It knows only
The early morning light
Is hooe
And life
As beginning
Again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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This Poem Of The Morning
This poem of the morning
Is meant to tell
What all morning poems are
But who can know another’s morning?
And who can know another’s night?
We live each day
As that day is
I am here now
Will I be here tomorrow?
I wait for this day’s light
This day’s hope
This day’s struggle against the night
It is not even light yet
And I am here ‘calling it ‘morning’
Let me I pray God
When the light comes
Have the strength
To live this day
With all the light and love
You enable me to give..
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Morning Is Its Own Poem
The morning is its own poem
It does not need my words
The light also.
How is it that one time of the day
Gives us life and hope
while others do not?
The morning is its own poem
And I am here walking in it
And trying to live and hope
Once again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wanted A Poem For The Morning
I wanted a poem for the morning
A poem to begin the day with-
A poem which would give my life hope -
I wanted a poem
Which would say I am alive
A good poem a kind poem
A poem which would make others a bit more happy-
And as so often
I wrote a poem
And left it as a question for the longer daylight and
the longer night which also is our life
beyond the morning-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Every Morning Has Its Own Poem/ Old Age Fades
EVERY MORNING HAS ITS OWN POEM/ OLD AGE FADES
Every morning has its own poem
Old age fades and goes away in the grey of the early morning day
Every day has its own poem
Every time of life
Hope too is also given to those with few years left
Old age has a poem
I am trying to write it.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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He Walks Without A Poem
HE WALKS WITHOUT A POEM
He walks without a poem
There is no poem in his mind
No poem in his heart.
But the idea of a poem
The dream of a poem
The daily task of a poem
The justification given by a poem-
He stops and writes these words down.
All around him
the morning light sings songs
of the things
of this world.
A poem perhaps?
Perhaps not?
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Morning Light/ Does Not Remember The Night
THE MORNING LIGHT
The morning light
Does not remember the night.
It opens the day
It makes us want to live again
It says
The whole world is waiting there for us
If we will only walk out into it.
The morning light does not remember the night
It gives us hope again
God bless the morning light
And life which begins again each day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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An Evening Poem
AN EVENING POEM
An evening poem
Waits for deeper darkness
A night poem knows blackness
As home.
A morning poem is light
An afternoon poem is thick with heat.
All times have a poem
And all seasons poems also
All lives are poems
And all stories also.
We all are and all know poems
Poems pervade us
And the universe.
It is night now
But when the morning comes
Its poem will overshadow now.
What a brave new world it is
With so many poems in it
And what a life-
With such deep sadness
Waiting forever to be unexpressed.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Ask The Morning Light
I ASK THE MORNING LIGHT
I ask the morning light,
To give me a poem-
The morning light is quiet-
The fresh cool air
Freezes my hand
As I write.
The light is so bright
So yellow so blue so green.
The poem has been given-
I am alive.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Light Through The Morning Window
THE LIGHT THROUGH THE MORNING WINDOW
The light through the morning window
The small leaves of the light green tree
The pale sky waiting behind everything
The night which is gone now.
All these failures one after the other,
Other names other destinies, greater than mine
The single singing I cannot hear
The great prophecies I will not realize.
Others who are more to me
Even than I am to myself.
The morning
The morning again
Words again
Trying to live again
A poem again perhaps.
In a life of many days
In which each small day
Its own struggle
And each night
A night which ends
With morning light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Oh Poem Of The Cold Morning
OH POEM OF THE COLD MORNING
Oh poem of the cold morning
Oh cold harsh wind
Oh difficult day ahead-
Oh light which surprises us with the beauties of God’s world-
Oh poem of the cold morning
Light and more light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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