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This Poem Is Not A Dream

THIS POEM IS NOT A DREAM

This poem is not a dream
It comes from where so many true poems come
From the other side of the mind
When it does not know peace -
From the waking desire
The hunger that is not satisfied
The lonely life and the lonely mind-
It comes from the search for love
And the love itself – the joy of love-
And from the memory of what we most deeply know when we are ourselves in love of another-
This poem is not a dream-
It comes from the waking world and the waking words-
The hard truths the bitter small things
The disappointments and rejections
The endless small humiliations which Time and Chance make of us all-
This poem comes from where we are most human
With the pain of those closest to us-
And our longing to save them and be loved forever by them-
The dream is not the poem
Life in its all its endless difficulties is the poem
And this poem too
Does not say half of all the hurt I have suffered in this one small day alone.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Don't Have A Dream Today

I DON’T HAVE A DREAM TODAY

I don’t have a dream today
Is a Poem a dream anymore?
One poem? ten poems?
Even a real poem?
Without a dream
The person can’t live
What is my dream now?
Where am I now?
So I write and write
As I have all my life
And it is so small a part
Of everything that is
Even in my own life-
I don’t have a dream today
And yet writing these lines
Somehow makes me begin to feel
A bit better.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again

THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’

‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?

Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’

The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.

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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Dream Poem

this poem is a dream
you wish to escape

if only you would awake
you could forget this poem

words pursue you through
the white pages of this dream

the voices you hear have
been spoken by this poem

people reach out, they live
here, they dream of you

now you smile, eager to dream
on, but the poem is fa d i n g

poem by Bruce Deitrick Price
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I Wanted My Poem To Be A Real Poem

I WANTED MY POEM TO BE A REAL POEM

I wanted my poem to be a real poem-
I have read and studied and memorized
So many real poems-
I wanted my poem to be one of them
Which others would read and feel and memorize
And make their own –

We want and we want and we want
And who are we with all our wanting?
Who am I with all my wanting?
One more dreamer
One more ambitious person
One more lover of poems
One more writer of poems
One more wanter of real poems
Who writes this poem
For others
who dream like me
of writing real poems.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Thought To Begin The Day With A Poem

I THOUGHT TO BEGIN THE DAY WITH A POEM

I thought to begin the day with a poem
But inside myself I hear only my own slow emptiness
Word by word I try to hear
And there is some small motion now
But still
A real poem
A poem of beauty
A poem of light
A poem of love
A poem that makes the dreamer long to dream-
And the lover long to love-
A poem that moves-

Well it is very very dark outside
And the world straining to give
Small rain to a dry land
Seems to say,

‘There may be a poem today
But it is not the poem you dream
Not the poem others will love
As you have loved
True poetry.’

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem

THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-

I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-

The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-

A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is Not The Answer To Everything

A POEM IS NOT THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING

A poem is not the answer to everything-
Perhaps it is not the answer to anything
Though I wouldn't take it that far-
There have been times
When a poem was the answer-
Many times
A poem written by someone else
A poem I tried to write by myself-

Poems can be an answer
Perhaps not for most things
Perhaps not for all the major things
But for moods and pains and feeling
And desire for Beauty
Poems can be answers at time-
A poem is not really the answer to my problem of the moment now
But it is an answer of a kind anyway
Thank God for poems and for this poem also.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Day Went By Without A Poem

The day went by without a poem-
The night was poem-less also
And then a month and then a year
My soul suddenly homeless.

The poems were gone
And I alone
Empty in my soul
I could not write
I could not feel
The universe was cold.

And now I wait
And dream and think
And hope a poem one day
Will come again
As dreams
I know to play..

But perhaps despite these faltering words
The poems
Forever gone
And I must live alone-
A poem-less man
Without a word
Silent as a stone.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

poem by Aisha Patterson
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Poem.

I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,

I like the story.

poem by David Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is No Poem For Me Today

THERE IS NO POEM FOR ME TODAY

There is no poem for me today
There is no poem of yesterday
The poems have gone
And far away
There is no poem
For another day.

There never will be another poem
Poems are gone
Poems are stone.

All the words I will ever write
Are not enough
For a Poem of Life.

The Poems are not
They will never be
I am not a Poem
Nor Poetry.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Was A Poem Long Ago

THERE WAS A POEM LONG AGO

There was a poem long ago
A poem of youth and hope
Now there are other poems
Poems of age and sorrow.
There was a poem once
Of love – and happiness in love
Now there is a poem of lovelessness
And sadness.
There was a poem once
Of the long and distant open road
Now there is a poem of the dead end.
There was a poem once
That believed in Poetry
Now there is a poem that knows
Even the most beautiful worlds of words
End in dust
There was a poem once – long ago.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dream a Dream

When I dream the dream of paradise
I see a picture of you
And when I dream the dream of love and care
I see a picture of us two

And when I dream a dream of loneliness
I see a shadow on the wall
Looking back at me like
I'm nothing at all

But those dreams a quickly chased away
When I wake up to a sunny day
And I see your pretty face right by my side

When I dream a dream of smiling
The room is full of you
And if I dream a dream of candy land
The sweetest thing is you

And if the nightmare comes along
To say its fond goodbyes
The thought of you will stop it
before those dreams arise

Because with you sharing my bed at night
My dream will always come out right
And tomorrow will always be another day

If I dream a dream while I'm awake
That dream will be of you
If I dream a dream of wedding cakes
I'll dream a dream of you

And when I dream a dream of a loving wife
That dream will be of you
And if I dream a dream of growing old
I'll be growing old with you

And if my dream were ever to come true
I know it will be because of you
And that's the reason that I love you so.

This poem © Timothy David Cook.2011

poem by Tim David Cook
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Poem Which Is Not A Poem

THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM

There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
Its heart is too much in thought.
It does not sing us to somewhere else.

There is a poem which is not a poem
Prosaic confessional flat,
Its says its single thing from the soul
And leaves the page without implication.

How many such poems have I written
As I write this one now?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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