The Pain I Have Now
THE PAIN I HAVE NOW
The pain I have now,
Makes any poem seem unreal.
If only I could stop hurting
Poetry might return to me again.
Somehow in my mind
Poems are for happy times
And blessings.
In pain
I feel no poem,
Only these lines
Of confession
And difficulty.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Have Written Too Many Poems Of Despair
I HAVE WRITTEN TOO MANY POEMS OF DESPAIR
I have written too many poems of despair-
Too much complaint-
Too much sorrow grief sadness difficulty pain-
I should have written more of hope of youth of love-
I should have sung of happiness
I should have been been a poet
Who helps others love life more
I can try now-
But can words of ‘will’ really be poetry?
It is when the lines come to the mind and heart
On their own
Naturally
That the poem begins to live.
Does this sound like a ‘happy poem’?
Or yet another lament for what I am
And have not been?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Of Pain is A Different Kind of Poem
A poem of pain is a different kind of poem
Than the poem I would write
But what if this becomes all I have?
What if Pain makes Poetry meaningless?
What if Poetry becomes only the vain self- exaltation
Which gives no help and comfort
To the one one loves?
What if Pain makes Poetry meaningless?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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111
The useless poem
He knows that his poetry
Is a useless endeavor
As you put it,
There is no money for a poet,
Not even fame when he is alive
Or even dead, perhaps for some,
Whose lines are judged for greatness
His poetry is nothing but a way of laundering
His emotions,
Not even read
Nobody really cared
How many nights did he spend to make a poem?
His heart bleeds
For more pain, his stomach acidifies for more
Harmful corrosive liquids rising to his brain
Through all his intestines and veins
And he goes groggy
Nauseous,
Till dawn breaks he makes his lines
Like a fool
He wants to stop and put an end to everything
He is suffering
He knows the end
Cannot refer to this poem
But to his life
He ends it
His poetry may live on some pages
But (again) not even read because nobody
Nobody really cared
Perhaps someday when another useless poet
Comes accidentally along
Surfing
Or
Writes the same useless
Lines like the way he wrote his
By a slim chance
He shall then
Be read for once
Through this poem
Again
And again
Because in fact
There are many of them
More than you will expect
Rereading the useless poems
Still bleeding asking for care and even forgiveness
(The vice of asking for attention
The uselessness of recognition)
Another one reads it this time
It is, I will not mind, You
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Know There Are Other Kinds Of Poetry
I know there are other kinds of Poetry-
I know for many a confession cannot be a poem-
But for me my confession is my poem
And my writing what I most intensely think and feel
And need to say-
It may not be Poetry for you
And it may not speak to you at all,
I don't want you to waste your time
With what is meaningless for you-
But if the poetry of Confession
And mine in particular
Can be poetry for you,
Thank you for giving my lines
Some time and attention.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem Is Restless In Me
THE POEM IS RESTLESS IN ME
The poem is restless in me-
It waits to be heard-
Now that it comes
It does not feel especially happy about itself.
It knows it is not real-
It is not much-
Just because it is called a poem by me
Does not make it a poem -
The mind has its own place-
My mind also -
I am always thinking poems are with me,
And poems waiting to come-
But who am I and what do I know?
These lines are written in the still of the morning
When the light outside still brings hope
That a new day is possible.
But so many poems have been written in the early morning
And I am so old from hearing them said to me by myself-
And what does it all mean anyway in the end when God is the Only One?
And who am I to know what God is, or invoke the name of God
In such a small thing as my own poetry?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Pain I Can Control
The pain I can control
The pain that makes me whole
The pain that stops and brings some tears
The pain that erases all my fears
The pain that I inflict with this knife
The pain that might be last in my life
The pain that brought me to my knees
The pain that woahed me full of pleas
The pain that made me see the light
The pain that is bringing me home tonight
The pain that is wrong and bitter
The pain that makes me feel fitter
The pain that my friends say is wrong
The pain that makes me feel so strong
The pain that makes my friend sad, and cry
The pain that makes her want to die
The pain thats not just pain to me
The pain that makes everyone see
The pain that thats tearing me apart
The pain thats ripping apart my heart
The pain that I'm addicted to
The pain I can't give up. Not even for you..
Madness Is Not My Poem
MADNESS IS NOT MY POEM
Madness is not my poem-
I have lived a life
Striving to remain sane.
Madness is pain and disorder-
Madness is the hurting that does not know its own end-
Madness is screaming and praying for the pain to stop
When the pain does not stop.
Madness is not my poem
I strive against Madness all my life
Sane I am even when sad
Madness is not my poem
Though I will die being afraid
It still might be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The useless poem
He knows that his poetry
Is a useless endeavor
As you put it,
There is no money for a poet,
Not even fame when he is alive
Or even dead, perhaps for some,
Whose lines are judged for greatness
His poetry is nothing but a way of laundering
His emotions,
Not even read
Nobody really cared
How many nights did he spend to make a poem?
His heart bleeds
For more pain, his stomach acidifies for more
Harmful corrosive liquids rising to his brain
Through all his intestines and veins
And he goes groggy
Nauseous,
Till dawn breaks he makes his lines
Like a fool
He wants to stop and put an end to everything
He is suffering
He knows the end
Cannot refer to this poem
But to his life
He ends it
His poetry may live on some pages
But (again) not even read because nobody
Nobody really cared
Perhaps someday when another useless poet
Comes accidentally along
Surfing
Or
Writes the same useless
Lines like the way he wrote his
By a slim chance
He shall then
Be read for once
Through this poem
Again
And again
Because in fact
There are many of them
More than you will expect
Rereading the useless poems
Still bleeding asking for care and even forgiveness
(The vice of asking for attention
The uselessness of recognition)
Another one reads it this time
It is, I will not mind, You
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Not for You
This is not a poem for you
It is a poem to erase you
stoke after stroke
you're almost nowhere now, almost
but something lingers
something permanent, I'm afraid,
something profound
Feel that, that pain?
That pain is not for you
It’s for me
This is not a prayer for you
It’s not my wish for you
It’s not anything
But a far-away break,
A tree falling,
That nobody notices except me
A poem not for you,
No, not for you
A poem for me
A poem to forget
A poem to die by
poem by Jennifer Killian
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Pain Is
pain is what i go through everyday
pain is just being me
pain hurts once its in you
pain is painful
pain makes you sufer
pain makes you want to cry
pain makes you want to scream
pain takes control
pain makes others hate you
pain makes you mad
pain makes you want to hide or runaway
pain want let you sleep
pain makes you want to stab yourself
but your love ones stop you
they show how much that they care
and thet they love you
poem by Melissa Dixon
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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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This is a poem....
This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.
poem by Tammie LilAimo
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5. In Pain
In pain I wonder why it is
That I should feel this way
In pain I sleep so rarely now
My nights turn into day
In pain I try to think of things
To help me ease this pain
In pain I practice memory games
But there it’s gone again
In pain I cannot reach for things
Do tasks I want to do
In pain I do not bend a lot
And can’t put on my shoe
In pain I look at what I was
Before I had this trouble
In pain I stop reflecting back
It only makes pain double
In pain I see a different world
Than what I had before
In pain I have restrictions
But I’ve learned that less means more
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Poems Karlo
'You do not feel my pain
'You do not feel my pain?
with this phrase I've won since a woman and made to cross an ocean '
more I add this poem
'you do not feel my pain
because I came to a world of suffering
you do not feel my pain
it hurts me constantly invades
you do not feel my pain
because all they see is and not feel
you do not feel my pain
because you see and not look
you do not feel my pain
because you all is apparent
you do not feel my pain
because you live in the toughest of cowardice
you do not feel my pain
because you all are emphatic
you do not feel my pain
because you live in a selfish world
you do not feel my pain
because you is not true '
karlo karleone
karlo karleone
poem by Karlo Karleone
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Poem As Conversations
a poem for ramona
and a poem for jean and a poem for candice
and a poem too for yuri
and a poem too for emma and another poem for hannah
and another poem for allan
and the rest of the clan
they are but
conversations sticking to my mind
and through these poems
i replay them
and you think these are not poems at all
precisely, these are conversations of the living
the living word
the word that still cohabits with us
we let them out from our mouths
but you do not wish to recover them
did you mean them all to be said
with the terms and conditions of truth?
i am recording them
and i am replaying them through these lines
i look where truth
lies
i find some and keep them
and these are these
on these lines
a poem for you a poem for the world that we all make
what we say is what we get
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Will Not Write About A Poem Where You Can Relate
i will not write a poem
where you can relate
because it will
be painful
and i do not like
you to take
the pain
the pain
you have now
will be too much to bear
and if i add another dose of pain
from these lines i am afraid that you may not be able to take it
instead i will write a poem
where everything will be strange to you something that
will not make you remember something that will make you wonder
about a world which you have not ever known something that strikes a
note in your heart
that awakens you and brings you a new day
that presents to you some pages of the sea and tell you a story
not about us, that which takes you at the top of the mountain and lets
you see some clear skies, a full orange moon, a dark blue horizon something
that makes you wish upon another star that makes your heart
stronger than ever that which makes you live and never again think of death
because i love you
poem by Antonio Liao
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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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We Keep The Pain Inside Us
we keep the pain
inside us, we feel happy too at times
but happiness seems to be
a bad teacher
whatever lesson is found there
we always easily forget
pain is magnificent
when it comes we really feel it
down to the last nerve
to the last marrow of our bones
even rattling
with the sound of its groans and wailings
and so here i am again
writing, learning, exposing
the poet of pain
unswerving, and you may not like this
i, am, this, poet,
this, pain, this, universe
where, you, also, revolve,
take, orbit, where,
you, are, a, part,
of, this, poem, please,
move, on, we, may, have,
this, needless, collision,
let me have
my way, i am about to
explode
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Take The Pain Away! (january 22 2011)
i sit here away feeling the pain
the pain of losing you
the pain of being alone.
the pain of my heart breaking
the pain of longing for you.
the pain that my pasted has made for me
the pain the razor makes when it slides across my arm to make me get away from the pain inside.
the pain has taken over my life never giving me a min to be happy
please won't you take the pain away please!
poem by juggalette Tiffany ann
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