The Word
it had leaked out of the pen
stood naked
attempting to cover-up it's shape
'it's your meaning I'm after
for a poem'
'but I'm not that sort of word'
having heard this
the unfinished one
rather disconsolate
just drifted away
'see what a difference you would have made '
we sat together
at the edge of creation
no fizz or sparkle in our lemonade
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
When You Read This Poem
when you read this poem
silently like a prayer written
on the wall
of an ancient structure
and then when you pause
upon a word and begin
to ponder
like ' what is this poem really
trying to say? '
or ' does this poem have in some
way something to inform me
or touch me
or simply waste my time? '
rest assured this poem has
made you phrase some questions
not about you
or about me alone but
whether you believe it or not
this poem has become
a bridge between us
taking the shape
of a rainbow between two islands
and in a moment before you
begin to figure it out
or even know it
it is gone like a sigh passing you by
without any significance
and not worth remembering
but once
after you have read till the end
once there was this poem
and it seems to have no meaning at all
except a task
a journey that you have taken
arriving at nowhere
and giving you the essence of nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Can't Drink The Lemonade I Made
When you miss me...
That's when we kiss a lot!
And when we're touching...
That's when we talk nonstop!
And when we're holding...
We begin to rock!
With a rocking heard...
Around the block.
You make my blood just rush!
If I had it in me I would blush.
You make my chest puff up!
Knowing that somebody loves me...
That much!
When you're near me my knees get weak.
And,
When we're not together I don't sleep.
And,
There's little more I can do...
When my mind's always on you too!
And,
When you're near me my knees get weak.
And,
When we're not together I don't sleep.
And,
There's little more I can do...
When my mind's always on you too!
Oh,
I can't drink the lemonade.
No...
I can't drink the lemonade I made!
Oh,
I can't drink the lemonade.
No...
I can't drink the lemonade I made!
And,
When you're near me my knees get weak.
And,
When we're not together I don't sleep.
And,
There's little more I can do...
When my mind's always on you too!
You make my blood just rush!
If I had it in me I would blush.
You make my chest puff up!
Knowing that somebody loves me...
That much!
Oh,
I can't drink the lemonade.
No...
I can't drink the lemonade I made!
Oh,
I can't drink the lemonade.
No...
I can't drink the lemonade I made!
When you miss me...
That's when we kiss a lot!
And when we're touching...
That's when we talk nonstop!
And when we're holding...
We begin to rock!
With a rocking heard...
Around the block.
Oh,
I can't drink the lemonade.
No...
I can't drink the lemonade I made!
Oh,
I can't drink the lemonade.
No...
I can't drink the lemonade I made!
I can't drink the lemonade I made!
No...
I can't drink the lemonade.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Logic Of Poetry Has a Color And Shape Of Its Own
THE LOGIC OF POETRY HAS A COLOR AND SHAPE OF ITS OWN
The logic of poetry has a color and shape of its own
Its clear silences ring deeply as paradox confounded into meaning
How many others have made Beauty of words
And still are sung of only by the Silence?
How these days go by longing to remain alive
Because life itself bears within it the best of these most poignant dying moments?
Our doom is certain and our final word never to be clearly heard
But we as we are can be in this world for our time with all its beauty as us-
There is no more wonder than this God gives-
We look out and up each day as a child may still look for its first light above-
No one knows where the darkness ends and even if it is darkness at all
We say the word ‘God’ and all we know and mean is that our greatest meaning must be beyond us – if it is to be at all
‘God’ we say ‘God’
And who are we and what are we
if not a part too of this Beauty somehow greater than we can ourselves ever really hold on to?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What A Difference Youve Made
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
Oh, what a difference youve made
In my life.
What a change you have made in my heart.
What a change you have made in my heart.
You replaced all the broken parts.
Oh, what a change you have made
In my heart.
Love to me was just a word in a song
That had been way overused.
But you gave love a meaning,
So I joined in the singing,
Thats why I wanna spread the news.
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
Oh, what a difference youve made,
(what a difference youve made,)
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
What a difference youve made.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
What a difference youve made in my life.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Difference youve made in my life.
(youre my sunshine day and night.)
What a difference youve made.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Difference youve made in my life.
(difference youve made in my life.)
Youre my sunshine day and night.
What a difference youve made.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Youve made a difference in me.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Youve made a change in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Naked
So you want me to take it off
Just to see whats
Underneath my cloth
Ill show you Im every
Inch a man
Measure all that you
Think you can
Im more than what
Meets the eye
Flesh n blood is
Often a white lie
By the cover you misjudge
The book
Open your mind and take
Another look
Naked, and Im unashamed
Naked, with no one to blame
Naked, ya you want the truth
Naked, heres my birthday suit
Naked, naked, naked, naked
I pretend to be not anyone
Except me and my imperfections
There is nothing i
Expect of you
That you wouldnt
Expect of me, too
Chorus
Will you excuse me for my ignorance
cause I can see only one
Difference
Those of you who seek to find
While all the others choose
To walk n talk blind
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is A Way For A Poem To End
THERE IS A WAY FOR A POEM TO END
There is a way for a poem to end
In which its meaning remains forever enigmatic
And there is a way for a poem to end
In which its meaning closes the circle.
And there is a way for a poem to end
Which is only a beginning for a poem elsewhere.
There is a way for a poem to end
Which leads to all other poems
And a way for a poem to end
Which says that this is all the world there is
And no more need be.
This poem is ending now
Like a life which has lost its meaning.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Too, Like An Unfinished Poem
an unfinished poem sounds like
an incomplete sentence
sometimes just a predicate without a subject
like love unrequited
a verb without a noun
an adjective so misplaced that
it calls for an adverb
it is more like a mouth
that opens but says only some syllables
though you as the reader
understands what the poet
wants to stress and mean and accentuate
for some parts of the poem are meant
not to be finished sometimes
in fact, they are meant to be concealed
and well covered like a bikini
to your.........or the prohibited love
you still keep in your........
or the memories that hurt you and are meant
to be unsaid.......you still want her not to
know..........
i, too, like an unfinished poem
like the sketch of your secret love many, many years ago,
once when you were young
the face is unfinished, you have not drawn the eyes
of that love so profuse that no canvass could ever contain
you still like this love unfinished, who knows
the ripe time comes and both of you
will finish
the unfinished love poem soon......
or some poems cannot ever be finished
because the words to complete them still
do not exist
or they are simply missing,
too lost like you,
they are not there yet to a feeling so new
so fragile and so indescribable.....
so rare........
and i, really, like it that way the poem
unfinishes itself
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Whose Meaning The Poet Does Not Know
A POEM WHOSE MEANING THE POET DOES NOT KNOW
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Is a question only its readers can answer.
But if in the silence of endless absence
There are no readers
A poem whose meaning the poet does not know
Becomes a poem which does not exist.
And a poem which does not exist
Is not the poem the poet dreamed
When he heard in the night or the early morning
That rush of music that sequence of sounds
Which seemed to say more than he would ever understand
As he wrote it down in haste
For fear it somehow would be lost.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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438
To Choose Between A
Hot Breakfast Ready On The Table
And Finishing Another Poem
I Choose The Breakfast
Together With My Wife
This Poem Can Be Suspended
In Time
And Become Another Unfinished
Act Of Creation
By A Man Wanting To Fill This
World With Poems
After A While
When I Have My Fill And When
I Make Some Nice Conversations With My Wife
And My Dog Beside The Table
Looking At Me
For A Piece Of Fried Pork
When The Sipping Of Coffee Is Over
When I Finally Wipe My
Chin With The Sky Blue Napkin
When I Consider
Eating As Finally Over
As Promised
I Will Come Back Again
And Finish This Poem
And There Is Something
Nice In This
Act Of Creation
You Feel It
It Is Warm Like The Hand Of
A Beautiful Woman
It Is As Hot As Ever
Like This Wanton Desire
Lovely,
As Lovely As You Love Each Letter
Of The Word
Of Your Poetry
I Am Feeling It In The Bone
Of My Soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Breakfast Is Ready
(7: 45 in the morning)
to choose between a
hot breakfast ready on the table
and finishing another poem
i choose the breakfast
together with my wife
this poem can be suspended
in time
and become another unfinished
act of creation
by a man wanting to fill this
world with poems
after a while
when i have my fill and when
i make some nice conversations with my wife
and my dog beside the table
looking at me
for a piece of fried pork
when the sipping of coffee is over
when i finally wipe my
chin with the sky blue napkin
when i consider
eating as finally over
as promised
i will come back again
and finish this poem
and there is something
nice in this
act of creation
you feel it
it is warm like the hand of
a beautiful woman
it is as hot as ever
like this wanton desire
lovely,
as lovely as you love each letter
of the word
of your poetry
i am feeling it in the bone
of my soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you loved me, you would rejoice
life to life with you
arm to arm and mind indulging
with the mind
what is it that bothers us?
a bird without wings?
a horse without hoofs?
a man without eyes?
an old woman without a
burial site? a coffin unfinished?
a poem unsigned?
unfinished business
defective structures like
house without pillars
trains without tracks
cocoons without leaves
words without meaning
a poem without a definite ending
a page without a margin
a dog without an ear
a fish not in school
there are sighs unsifted
love unrequited
And now I have told you this
before it happens....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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Somewhere At The Edge Of A Poem
SOMEWHERE AT THE EDGE OF A POEM
Somewhere at the edge of a poem
Is another poem
And that poem too leads to another
And poem after poem
The whole of a life is written.
And when not one single line of that poem is read
It goes down into the ground as if it never were.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Simply Love
You made me...
You made me to love.
You made me see the stars above.
When you taught me the meaning of love.
You made me...
You made me to love!
You made the difference,
Dreams are made of.
When you taught me the meaning of love!
Yes I confess.
You made me...
You made me to love.
Distanced from emptiness and a void.
When you taught me this meaning of love.
When you brought me this meaning of love.
You taught me what love was.
Now it's you and me in love.
I can not hide when it's simply love!
You made me...
You made me to love!
You made the difference,
Dreams are made of.
When you taught me the meaning of love!
I can not hide when it's simply love!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem
i wrote you a poem,
that stood naked on
your doorstep,
but you didnt notice...
so i wrote you a poem,
that bled on your kitchen floor,
yet the mop stood untouched
in the corner!
i wrote you a poem,
that set itself on fire
in your bedroom,
and you opened the window.
so i wrote you a poem,
from the land of death...
your tears only an echo,
that couldnt touch...
couldnt taste, couldnt feel...
will you write me a poem?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everybodys Crying Mercy
I cant believe the things Ive seen
I wonder bout some things Ive heard
Everybodys crying mercy
When they dont know the meaning of the word
A bad enough situation
Is sure enough getting worse
Everybodys crying justice
Just as long as theres business first
Toe to toe
Touch and go
Give a cheer
Get your souvenier
People running round in circles
Dont know what theyre headed for
Everybodys crying peace on earth
Just as soon as we win this war
Straight ahead
Knock em dead
Pack your kid
Choose your hypocrite
Well you dont have to go to off broadway
To see something played absurd
Everybodys crying mercy
When they dont know the meaning of the word
Nobody knows the meaning of the word
When they dont know the meaning of the word
Nobody knows the meaning of the word
Nobody knows the meaning of the word
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Awaiting
awaiting day elapse
elapsing of it memory for the shake of memory
when beauty of wave that kiss the coast
omit the ripples without meaning
when what wind fizz
without tone
when musical tones
heard whoop it up
ah, I really toothache
awaiting something that is no meaning.
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Glass
Words of a poem should be glass
But glass so simple-subtle its shape
Is nothing but the shape of what it holds.
A glass spun for itself is empty,
Brittle, at best Venetian trinket.
Embossed glass hides the poem of its absence.
Words should be looked through, should be windows.
The best word were invisible.
The poem is the thing the poet thinks.
If the impossible were not,
And if the glass, only the glass,
Could be removed, the poem would remain.
poem by Robert Francis
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
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 David Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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