Poetic
- The poets dance 'round
the flower of words they've found
while the jesters joke
with the common folk,
and wonder, where it's all bound -
- Who would possibly know
when it all could go
like fog on a pond
and magic in a wand,
the dark of night fades with the roosters crow -
- Words are just a little gift
meant to lift
merely hitching brief rides
closer to where Mystery resides,
as poetically life goes on... bit-by-bit.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Related quotes
Guess (should i ever give the girl i love this., ,)
Guess....
Just guess.. they're 3 words thats it, not too hard
really just 3 words my dear
you have to figure them out right here
allow me to get close....close...
closer to you before i am taken by comatose,
let me lean in and whisper my 3 words to you
the 3 words i hope you know them too
one guess and one guess only, as i
tickle and tease you, galvanize your imagination so far as to fly
can you share my joy?
maybe you will share my joy after you guess, this isn't a decoy
I'm not running, I'm honest allow me to caress
you and fondle with your hair but guess
just 3 words,3 magic ones, last hint...closer..magic... heres the spell
it changes you and me to us, now you should know quite well
guess those magic words as i lean in close.... just three...magic..three...
as you stand here right next to me
come I'll whisper them to you
but first just guess and I will guess your next words too
3 magic words, , , , closer just three to change my story
this will fill those lines and change my life as i tickle you
and tease you, , ,3 words guess i ask you answer in four
let me caress you let me be close.... guess the words
Guess
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born In Baryards
Born in barnyards, see how roosters strut,
searching for a hen that is a slut.
Wherever men are born they do not care
about most women till they see them bare.
Their eyes that flash like moonshine look around
like roosters for a hen, and once they’ve found
a bird they like they do not need to beg,
and leave her long before she’s laid an egg.
Roosters in the morning crow in time
to wake their counterparts who’re with a hen,
ridiculous sometimes, sometimes sublime,
like roosters always, born as barnyard men.
poem by Gershon Hepner (19 September 2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sforza Castle
SFORZA CASTLE
I sat there in the shadow
Not knowing what to do
Another day had come and gone
Without magic, without you
The Sforza Castle stands proud and strong
As it’s stood year after year
In the shadow of its silence
The words of love ring clear
They come from rich and wealthy
They come from plain and poor
They’re the words of king’s and poets
They reflect the truth most sure
I prayed for all lovers
They looked like you and me
I was sure I stood on sacred ground
As it was meant to be
Perhaps someday I’ll find you
And together we will see
The magic and the majesty
Of life’s full mystery
© James G. Espinosa Sr. 2011
poem by James Espinosa Sr.
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In Spring groves they are to be found
Ponder the perfection that resides within reflection.
Wander is wonder. In Spring groves they are to be found.
The Good Folk, by twilight, as by the oak they dance.
Dressed for procession. They dance, oh joy, to such merry
A tune it doth make my heart wither in weeping.
As dreaming, as asleep
Within the Oak, dryads ancient joke
As outside their life is to be ended
Upon the turning of a leaf.
Within the hedgerow await the
Children Impish of the forest.
Awaiting to test those who seek to rest.
poem by David Lacey
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And, Magic!
and so once again,
spring hath violated
the tomb of god,
and brought forth magic!
shadows dance,
seeds are planted.
life bursts through
the frozen casket...
light begins anew,
poets too long slumbered,
cast the webbing from their eyes,
birthing words into being.
thunderstorms, and magic.
the sun carries the hands of time.
summer dares come, wave upon wave,
poets dance naked in the moonlight.
lovers come together,
fission, and creation.
worlds are formed,
history testifies!
wine lusts for the lips,
as flesh for flesh.
the drums beat wildly,
death is but orgasm!
all too soon,
autumn aproaches.
the harvest of desire,
fires built in the night.
hair turns grey,
thoughts lose form.
leaves begin to turn,
and fall, tis magic!
and poets rhyme the turning
of the earth and the sea.
worship the shell shocked earth,
dance in the memory....
then leaves turn brown,
decay, and return.
poets lose their eyesight,
follow the beat of the heart.
the winter chill comes,
barelimbed trees offer prayers...
at the graves of the poets,
marked by fresh fallen snow.
words lost, or engraved forever,
in the coming of spring,
in darkness to light...
what else could it be...
but magic!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poem about Poetry - Lost in Poems
i wish to be lost in my poems
i wish one day when coming
across a famous poem would be
shocked and exclaimed when told I did write it:
'Oh, did i write this one? How did i ever become
so elegant with words? They all said I was not that good.'
i wish to meet the world's best poets
and learn from them how much of their words
are real, and how much plain made up
i wish i could recognise all the nuances
in the language of God, how he translates his words
so clearly and even poetically in the seasons,
in the weather, in the lightning, in the thunder
and so many other divine phenomena
i wish to be able to one day write poetry
mimicking the likeness of him
subtle as the dropping of an autumnal leaf
that takes a whole season
to come to its spiralling dance
and one whole human race
to pause over its significance
in the scheme of things
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I Finally Found My Way
So many people tried to help me on my way
So little time and there's still so much left to say
There's no explaining all the things that I've been through
But I've finally fount my way to you
I finally found my way to you
Now the day is endhing and the night begins to fall
Sometimes I wonder if I'll make it back at all
I gave up everything I had and ever knew
But I finally found my way
Finally found my way
I finally found my way to you
Remember how we used to hide away
We'd share the secrets of our souls
Turn down the lights and dance the night away
We'd dance the night away
We'd dance the night away
Remember how we used to hide away
We'd share the secret's of our souls
Turned down the lights and dance the
Night away
We'd dance the night away
We'd dance the night away
Remember how we used to hide away
We'd dance the night away
We'd dance the night away
And now I'll hold you like I never have before
I'll let you go just long enough to lock that door
The words I whisper come so late and overdue
But I finally found my way, I finally found my way
I finally found my way to you
To you baby
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance With Me...
..
hear a melody
singing it’s way into your heart
feel the vibrations of past kisses
as your feet obey strange wishes
watch as your hands
start to move, and lose control
as if the music posesses your soul
closer, and closer we get
memories linger
not a chance to forget
yes dance with me
as i hold you so gently
smile the night away
who cares what those people say
whisper sweet words in my ear
dance
dance with me, my dear
lets get lost in a dream come true
together forever with you
angels lift us into the clouds
far above the crowds
your lips
your hips
feel devine
at last my love
you’re mine
.
Unaltered pages
so many want
to be poets
they let words
guide them
(take the lead)
writing in
a high fashion
for the glamour
i suppose
for me
i let my
humble heart and soul
guide me
to my poem
the first words
human uttered
were born there
and still are
for poets
who string verses
that lift readers
to the unaltered
realm (pages) of their life
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Once Upon a Time Words
The art of Dance, poetry in motion,
Poetry is the art of once upon a time words
Metaphorically painted in the mind
By a poets notions of love and nature's wonder.
The magic poetic symphony of words in a poem is
Placed by the genius akin to a chess master.
poem by Ken e Hall
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I Finally Found My Way To You
So many people tried to help me on my way
So little time and theres still so much left to say
Theres no explaining all the things that Ive been through
But Ive finally fount my way to you
I finally found my way to you
Now the day is endhing and the night begins to fall
Sometimes I wonder if Ill make it back at all
I gave up everything I had and ever knew
But I finally found my way
Finally found my way
I finally found my way to you
Remember how we used to hide away
Wed share the secrets of our souls
Turn down the lights and dance the night away
Wed dance the night away
Wed dance the night away
Remember how we used to hide away
Wed dance the night away (x 4)
And now Ill hold you like I never have before
Ill let you go just long enough to lock that door
The words I whisper come so late and overdue
But I finally found my way, I finally found my way
I finally found my way to you
To you baby.
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem of Poet
Written in four words.
The words of a poet.
Expressing the deep feelings.
The feelings through this words.
Can make a difference.
Which can change the world.
Poets are the magician.
Poems are the magic.
Combining these elements.
Life is so tragic.
poem by Yash Pradhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Escaping Definitions
Words should not offend,
Or become twisted to bend
Curiosities!
Like a flower blooming,
Without a stem
To uphold its nourishment.
Words can be defined...
Unlike feelings
Different from yours,
Or that of mine.
When spoken...
We should find out what words mean.
How they are used.
When they are used.
And who refuses...
To take them for what they are.
Instead of insisting,
Something else was meant!
'What in 'hell' are you talking about? '
Escaping definitions!
'Well...
You're doing a damn good job...
Because I haven't a clue
What you're talking about! '
Great!
That's two of us!
At least we agree.
And you thought we had nothing in common!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dance, Dance
She says she's no good with words but I'm worse
Barely stuttered out
A joke of a romantic stuck to my tongue
And weighed down with words too overdramatic
Tonight it's "it cant get much worse"
Vs. "no one should ever feel like.."
I'm two quarters and a heart down
And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds
These words are all I have so I write them
I need them just to get by
We will own your thoughts
We'll own the songs stuck in your head
We'll leave you kicking and screaming so you can thank us in the end
Dance, Dance
We're falling apart to half time
Dance, Dance
And these are the lives you love to lead
Dance this is the way they'd look
If they knew how misery loved me
into bed with me)
You always fold just before you're found out
Drink up its last call
Last resort
But only the first mistake and I...
I'm two quarters and a heart down
And I don't want to forget how your voice sounds
These words are all I have so I write them
I need them just to get by
Why don't you show me a little bit of spine
You've been saving for his mattress (with love)
Dance, Dance
We're falling apart to half time
Dance, Dance
And these are the lives you love to lead
Dance this is the way they'd look
If they knew how misery loved me
Why don't you show me a little bit of spine
You've been saving for his mattress (with love)
I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me
Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
song performed by by Fall Out Boy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the music stops
When the music stops, the dance is done
So listen and dance with all your heart and mind
Always dance as if… t'would be your last one
Live life to the fullest, let the dance and the music unwind
When the magic is gone, it's gone forever
So leave room for mystery, in your life every day
Leave a bit of the unknown, in your every endeavour
For when the magic is gone, it's gone to stay
For when the music stops
And when the magic is gone
You can smile and look back
At a life that's well done
For when the music once stops
You dance again never
And when the magic is gone
Sure…Tis gone forever
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreams (Inspired-Desire from Visions in the Night)
Is it just a dream - to dream?
Or can one intelligently
And with honest hope inquire:
' What does a dream, truly mean? '
Is the dream given or allowed
To each their own,
Or across the masses to the crowd?
From God, or the soul,
How to be certain, how to know?
From Heaven's throne, or from the depth's of the human mind?
For one alone, or all mankind?
Shall we be allowed arcanumly to know
Just some of what was missed
From afar, through a dim glimpse?
Could it all possibly be
From somewhere beyond us all,
An endless soft echo
In a very old call?
One that is only to be heard
When the mind has settled quiet,
Into the time when the soul alone gathers words?
Or,
Is the dream as gift given
Hope to arouse and awaken.......
Hope for what awaits
Just out of sight, right beyond Heaven's open gates,
Thus in meager human faith
Tis meant true expectancy to create.......
If it really is more
Than just a dream - to dream,
Then perchance it is nothing less than vision,
A guiding gift given
Part of a much larger plan
Beyond the sight of man,
Originating from the Being
Within everything.
From whence and why
Do this querulous questions arise?
I know not for certain
I can only here in simple words
Ponder upon them,
And the mysterious reason they return
Again and again.
It would surely seem
Dreamy sights travel mostly by nights'
With perhaps a scent of mystery, of the once was, and the yet to be.
Or maybe they just come with a comforting thought
And the sweet peace it may have here to us brought.
Sleepy dreams
Like stars throughout the night,
Constant dark companions
Never to be touched
Nor fully known,
Not even the reason -if there be one-
To be wholly shown;
Yet, faithfully there,
Even if their purpose we are unaware.
A story possibly to show
Given from the Story-Teller
Who wrote them on our hearts
So long ago;
For now we sit in exile,
This temporary land to last only a little while;
Some messages may very well be sent
With a reason to behold,
One that surely must come
From the great Ages of old,
Even if shrouded in a fallen translation,
Tis still our story, everyone's story,
Even my story,
Waiting, and so wanting to be told.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Secret, Treasured World of Metaphor
True, I can rhyme – endwords, and inner too;
fangle fine assonance, like thought made new;
march to a metre –regular in tread
or cunningly disjointed – silken, the thread
then sharply pulled, to wake the reader’s ear;
rhythms, I can dance with a magic, laughing twirl;
play like the ringlets of poetic curls;
but metaphor – ah, there’s the sadness in my play:
that golden box, its gleaming lid all joy,
all mystery… if I only had the key
to throw it open, cave with dark velvet lined,
shimmering with jewels from rare and secret mines,
flashing with colours never man had seen,
thrown together as words have never been –
making new language out of words grown old,
sounding new sounds of tales that are not yet told..
oh that I had the gift of metaphor –
that showering of gold from a land unknown heretofore…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Smith
A smith was of words with a splendid death,
The main presence of death meant nothing.
Words are for deeds as the fish in the sea
Escalate and provide for their impoverishment.
The island of an ending close to the very edge
Is of maximum importance, and the ultimate sacrifice
Is yet to come.
This heavenly world resides in the heavens as well,
Hard efforts require cheaper diseases of the pen,
Hard are the gains of a forever summer and winter
As they dance among your moments one time to come.
The smith with words is a smith to gain remedies for himself,
These phrases are from him and him alone.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Magic Never Runs Out
The words “Magic Flute” delighted me when
I was small, I ran about with shiny objects as
Magic Flutes, little cars as Magic Dinky Toys,
a long stick covered in foil was my Magic Wand,
I always carry a toy endowed with Magic Powers
by me, a beautiful children’s book is my talisman,
a guarantee that magic never runs out; an ethereal
fairy, an array of miniature birds, a dragonfly sitting
on my computer, create all the magic I need…
poem by Margaret Alice
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Cold As Angels (w/anna Campbell)
like strangels
watching the desecration
of life
with movements
like walking paris
beautiful
yet tragic
this shovel hand dance
our play with words
creates confusion
our language
poetically evasive
my feet caught in vines
of their eloquence
as cold as angels
our words spill out
in regret
our dreams
met by the hammer
and all fell
like water
on jagged stones
poem by Alexandre Arnau
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