There Should Have Been More Poems Of Gratitude And Joy
There should have been more poems of Gratitude and Joy
Too much has been Sadness and Despair-
There should have been more poems of other people
And not so much of myself -
There should have been more metaphor
And less one- dimensional statement-
There should have been more Poetry in my Poetry
And more Inspiration and Blessing and Love-
Small worry and anxiety have been too much-
Oh the Beauty and the Goodness
I have been given in Life,
And how I have not known how to write it well enough.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Is A Habit
writing poems
when you really write poems
everyday and every moment of your life
even when you're in the middle of your
bread and butter eating thing
or even when you are defecating
writing poems becomes a habit
even when you sleep even when you dream
writing poems becomes a part of your system
you eat poetry you vomit poetry
you digest poetry you poo poetry
you breathe poetry you sweat poetry
you love poetry and you live with your poetry
and at the end you die with poetry
and your epitaph says: here lies the poet,
choked with poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The History Poems Have Not Been Written
The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is Another Poetry
THERE IS ANOTHER POETRY
There is another Poetry-
A poetry of inspiration
A poetry of help
A poetry of encouragement
A poetry of courage and heart
A poetry of love of life
Which teaches greater love of life.
There is another poetry
A poetry I would write
But the poetry I largely live in
Is complaint and question and fear and doubt
And trouble and sadness-
Oh why can’t I give some greater goodness to others
Than I am myself in my soul?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poems Became The Story Of My Inner Life
THE POEMS BECAME THE STORY OF MY INNER LIFE
The poems became the story of my inner life-
A series of confessions-
Often simple and direct
They seemed to lose their poetry-
I wrote them and I write them as I need to
I do not know if their rhythm is real
Or only prose-
I write them as poetry
Because this is what I am and have now-
Still the overwhelming anxiety I have now suggests
I always in them tell only a small part of the story
As if the feeling inside
Is always more than any poetry that pretends to express and represent it –
If I doubt the value of this poem and doubt the value of all my poetry and doubt my own value, poetry or not, and doubt and doubt-
Then certainly ‘doubt’ is one keynote of my inner life and story.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Anxiety Hates Poems
Anxiety hates poems
It has no patience for them
It is out of place in them.
Anxiety does not have Beauty
And it does not have Hope
And it does not Love
And it does not have Music
It does not have
What makes so many poems live.
Anxiety hates poems
And Poetry is not so fond of it either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The time I discovered myself a Poet
I wouldnt say I was patient
but I have an interest in poetry
Is it the dawning of a new error
or will the sky be grey
I write how I see life and it is not always pleasant
I like to write abou experiences that I have been through
my poetry has changed as I ave changed
I see it as a hobby as I write in my grange
My poetry is mainly fiction but I also write about things that are true
I am not a person that would share alot of enthusiasim
poetry is a work of art
on each sheet of blank paper
I put my mark
Poetry is simple in this world of sin
I am not into shakesphere
what I write is authentic
the imagination on paper creates magic
a poem can change an atmosphere
I would like to say my poems mean something
my poems are meant to sting a mind
I want my poems to create pictures for people who are blind
poem by Natasha Browne
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Poems About Poems About Poems
Poems about poems about poems-
More poems and more poems and more poems-
Poems poems poems poems poems-
How many poems?
How much poetry
Until there is no poetry at all?
But only 'words' and 'words' and 'words'
Until one goes far away
Where there was never a poem before-
And suddenly hears
“Let there be Light”.
And Poetry perhaps
Is born again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Have No Curses In My Poems, No Insults
I have no curses in my poems no insults-
I have no hatred in my poems
I do not have much anger-
Fear I have and anxiety also
Worry and sadness yes
But putting down and demeaning – no-
My poems are the person I am
A small voice that would be kind.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In The Manner Of Borges I Write Poems In My Old Age
IN THE MANNER OF BORGES I WRITE POEMS IN MY OLD AGE
In the manner of Borges I write poems in my old age
And dream that they are not only imitations
Of poems written by others
When we all were young.
Instead I go on now in the darkness of the night
Because the fear of what will be
Is always so deep in me
It does not need Poetry or Happiness or any other Meaning
Outside itself.
We are small sands drifting on the edge of stars
Lesser beings of a time we will never know
All that we have done comes back to us over and over again
As if we never were
I don’t believe I will ever write Borges lines
He wrote them in his own imagined words
And I must in my own little life
Suffer to the end of time
All I have not been
And never will be.
God Who is Good
God of Love
You gave me so much
You did not have to give me Poetry also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I don't
Many people write
For their true emotions to unravel
Out of depression, angst, spite
But I can’t
I don’t write poems when I’m sad
They write from their experiences
When he left me
When they died
Bringing tears, causing cries
But I can’t
I don’t write when I’m sad
The tears dutifully stain my cheek
And roll on and on
Through and through
Down
Down
Down
But I can’t
And I don’t write poems when I’m sad
And all the anger and sadness
Thrust inside of me
Just bursting to get out
Screaming
Pleading
Begging to get out
But they can’t
Because I don’t write poems when I’m sad
And I don’t know what to do
How to express my pain
And woe, and the feeling
It drains me, and it shows
But there’s nothing I can do
Because I don’t ever write poetry when I’m sad
Are persons people?
and he says
you don’t write poetry to please people, you know
that’s with a comma after people
you write poems to please you
with shock lines like I still treasure
our first condom oh my love
to show that you’re cool and hip
but she says why write poems at all
if they don’t please people
men have such egos I suppose
it’s because they can’t have babies
but who are people anyway, how
many persons make a people or
how few persons and are they
a random mix or is there like
a recipe, some of this lot some of that
he says people who know about these things
like poetry but how do you know
which are the people who know
I’m not sure I know he knows for a start
and she says well ordinary people
so what then do you slide up
to a bus queue when there’s no
bus in sight and say look you’re
ordinary people I’ve been looking for you
yeah watch them give you a nasty look
and skedaddle pretending they remembered
they were due some place else
I’m beginning to wonder if people really exist
I mean as such but I’ll have to stop there
my PC says it’s run out of virtual memory
that’s another thing I don’t understand
maybe people are just a virtual memory too
I’m beginning to wonder if anyone knows
what *people* should think about poetry
maybe they should just write it throw it away
see who picks it up and not never nohow talk about
other *people’s* poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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(V – 2010) To Risha Ahmed
(With Love, Admiration and Best Wishes)
Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
You pen with wit and sanity
Your vision shows maturity
Your diction forces clarity!
Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your rhythm rides melodiously
You rhyme with ease and quality
Your hallmark is spontaneity!
Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your poems voice vocal beauty
Your poems value buoyancy
Your poems come creatively!
Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
You need now learn no prosody
You embody true poetry
Your poetry is really free!
Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your rhymes & themes with time vary
You proceed but with modesty
Your future you can guarantee!
Of Poetry, O Prodigy!
Your age will grow your ability
Your heart will light your journey, see
Your writings light humanity!
I Write Poetry
I write not poetry for the poor
for tears from their swelled up eyes
smudge and erase my words,
I write poetry not for the rich
for the splotches from their fat and cheese
hide my lines of wise,
I write poetry for not men to read
for in their skirmishes, poems are trashes
like beans spilled in pond full of slush,
I write poetry for the men not to read
for poems are little words, little music
little cry that the men cant touch or destroy,
poem by Saranyan Bee
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There Will Come A Day / When I No Longer Write
THERE WILL COME A DAY/ WHEN I NO LONGER WRITE
There will come a day
When I no longer write-
No dream of poetry
And no new poems will appear-
The world will have many new poems
As it always does-
But mine will not be among them-
As in life so in poetry
We are in our own small worlds all- only to ourselves-
‘Horseman pass by’ said Yeats as his good- bye.
But who was Yeats,
And who am I?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poems Have Lost Their Way
THE POEMS HAVE LOST THEIR WAY
The poems have lost their way-
They have become simple statements of feeling,
Flat and plain
Dull and one- dimensional.
The poems have become non- poetic,
And yet I write them still.
For what do I have now in writing
But my poetry?
And who knows if they do not
In their simple way
Say something to others
Meaningful to them?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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On The Goddess Of Poesy
The Goddess of Poesy the Goddess of Song
To the Universal immortals she surely belong
The poets of the World her praises do sing
The gift of poetry to their souls she does bring.
The poets to write poems Goddess Poesy inspire
And of singing her praises they don't seem to tire
The poetry of sorrow the poetry of joy
The poetry of youth of the young girl and boy.
The poetry of youthfulness and of growing old
Of young women in their prime lovely to behold
The beauty of Nature the birds and the bees
The mammals and fishes of land and of seas.
The Goddess of poets of every gender race and creed
For their inspiration to write in her lives her they need
Of love, life and Nature she inspires poets to write
For the lovers of poetry to read and recite.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Fate of Top Poems!
Past poets were remarkable by their poems only;
But present poets are made remarkable by others!
Poetry of the past are no doubt top poems ever;
But poetry of the top are not listed in top poems!
Becoming top poets how can theirs have no place
Among the top poems of the poetry list? I wonder!
Touch stone of the top poems depends on merit
But not by the supports of friends for fun ever!
Poems of lasting value only can become classic;
But poems of no merit also have become classic!
Poetry of the past are romantic and also classic
But poetry of the present are neither but modern!
What is the yardstick to select poems as top ones -
Just support of some but not merit and meaning?
poem by Ramesh T A
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All These Poems About Poems
All these poems about poems
Where do they lead?
The world is so rich in so many other things
Write poems about them.
At twilight I look out
At strangers walking
To do their errands of preparation
for Sukkot.
A poem should have some Beauty in it
And not just be an effort at recording observations-
The scarlet bright flowers rage at me from the distance
I cannot translate their Beauty to words -
There is so much I have seen
And so much I will never write –
And so many Poems beyond my Imagination.
All these poems about my failing at poetry
And about translating the Beauty of the world to words-
This is a poem I not know how to properly finish.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poetry Is A Metaphor
Poetry is a metaphor
For beauty
For deepest feeling
For light
For all kinds of dreams we may not know the name of-
Poetry is a metaphor
For life at its most intense
Poetry is a metaphor for Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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