Somewhere In Some Desolate Corner..
somewhere in some desolate corner
crouching on the shores of mind
someone may await daily my poems
with an undying passion
and as a curing touch on wearied heart -
for that one i write in endless streams
whose name, sex, face and voice,
nothing i am aware of-
may be a thousand years hence-
to that expectant one i dedicate my poem-
my heart would throb with that soul
my vibrations would merge in perfect harmony
winging past gladly the sweat of centuries.
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem
All I can do now is write another poem-
The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-
Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-
A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-
Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-
But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-
I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-
All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-
Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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A poem for you...
I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you
Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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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
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Poetry Is Like A Beautiful Work Of Art
A poem has no write or
wrong,
How to write your poem
is up to you,
Visualize a perfect poem
That readers will love,
Adjust a poem as much as
you want,
Remember a poem is like
art,
You write it with meaning
and passion,
Add as much as your heart
desires,
Short or long it does not
matter,
Add a picture with your
poem,
Add a quote or a verse,
it is a poet's decision,
Always be proud of your poem,
Let the words flow when you
write,
A poem expresses a feeling,
thought and emotion,
Add a frame and hang it up
on a wall,
share your talents with the
world,
Poetry is like a beautiful
work of art.
poem by Derek James
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The Poem -Written On The Small Pad
THE POEM / WRITTEN ON THE SMALL PAD
The poem/
Written on the small pad
In the almond tree park
Intersection Disraeli- Alkalai
The poem of the past days
The poem of the light – rain beginning,
Another Jerusalem poem-
Four- thousand years of Jerusalem poems
I from Troy, New York
Thirty- five years in Israel
Nearly sixty- eight years of age
Write.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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One Hundred
To all those who have read my poems,
this poem is just for you.
This is my hundredth poem this year
and I feel like celebrating too.
You see for years and years,
I did not want to write anymore,
until I came along here and met all of you.
For some reason I cannot explain,
you took me under your poetic wing.
You made me want to write again,
with your comments by the score.
You brought life back to me,
took my hand,
and guided me from the wilderness,
from which I ran.
You gave me injection,
and my confidence once more flowed.
My pen was put to paper again,
and out the poems came,
one after the other,
but never one the same.
I took a little time out to write a novel too.
All this and more is all thanks to you.
Without that hand of friendship,
which you’ve all shown to me,
I’d still be wandering like a lost soul,
in that wilderness out there.
Therefore, I am taking this opportunity
with this my hundredth poem this year,
to send you a special thanks,
from the bottom of my heart,
to each and every one of you out there.
poem by David Harris
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The Risk
Lonely tears upon my face dried
My broken heart replied
Will my shattered heart mend
For time does a broken heart tend
Days dissolve into endless time
Tender memories play across my mind
The bitter and the sweet do blend
For the passing of love does end
My heart keeps asking why
My soul does ache to try
Will love bloom again
Past the fear, past the pain
Does one dare to risk it all
To let the heart take a fall
To take one's heart off the shelf
To totally risk one's own self
Will my heart not want to flee
Can I think of more than me
But I will anxiously await
For love to walk thru my garden gate
poem by Lorie Robertson
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Do not read my poems…. [for YOU ]
Do not read my poems…
After I am dead
As a lament, a wail
An elegy, a requiem
Do not read my poems…
After I am gone
When no more I can
Hear your velvet voice.
Do not read my poems…
Alone without me
To comment along
And read with you
But, do read my poems
When I beside you lie
With my head resting
On your supporting arm
Listening to you read
In whisper, in kisses
In silence, in love
In sleep, in dream
Watching you feel
Every word I wrote
I’ll close my eyes - Love
Brush aside my hair
With your breathe
Which half veils my face
Sleepless fevered I wrote
Read me my poems
Now sing me a lullaby
Rock me to sleep
On your broad chest
Diving into your eyes
A thousand times
I am refreshed
By your smile
I’ll write on you a poem
Traced by my fingertips
To be etched in your heart
And burnt into your soul!
So, do not read my poems…
poem by Angelina Pandian
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Ode to passion
I say, too much passion in us poets,
like a touch of a thousand
saccharine taste invading our veins,
we cannot restrain, we
cannot condemned the only reason for our being,
passion is what keeps us breathing,
passion can make us see it all
different than others,
not to cease, not to die
or give-up, passion grows in our soul,
it reminds us it is there
every minute of our day,
when we need to count the hours
to get to him/her.
Passion is the sedactive to our worst day.
The essential of reason,
the way to a path,
to rivers and streams that find our dreams,
passion is a vessel making a net
reaching our heart our souls
keeping the beat louder and quieter in waves
frequencies, passion is vigor,
is a sparkle in our heart that continually
beats violently and has no outcome.
Passion is un 'Corazon salvaje'.
©ElenaToledo2011
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Perfect person i adore, only perfect person i'm assured
If only I knew that, I’ll found a person like you,
my heart will be so happy, and my day comes into a
living legacy of the memory of every yesterday, and
as i leave the portal of today, the past comes the day
to remember the present of what was the moment of the
past, for only today that makes the meaning of what
is year after years gone
flaccidly leads me to what the dream comes, easy to
live in the abundance of the heart the soul speak and the
wreath of victory lingers in every moment of the past, a
happy memory shared and a joy wondered that leads to
master the hallucinating shooting star, where the
blissfulness of time settled in your alluring heart of
love
come and touch my peaceful harmony of rhythmic
passion, live the harpoon of the growing glows of living,
fear me not for I make you the queen of my trembling
honest life, the true and genuine truth of loving you, would
always stay in your everlasting memory of eternity
perfect me in your Heart, and the Spirit that loose…..tied
you in my Soul
poem by Antonio Liao
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End of my Poem
I dedicate my years
Into writing poems
For you, but now that
You're gone
What more can I write?
This mark the end
Of my poems,
From my heart I loved you,
God knows I loved you.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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The Way Of The World.
THE WAY OF THE WORLD.
When I talk something sweet of you
Understand-
There remains the sticky slag of black bitterness
In the inmost recesses of my heart!
When I powerfully contradict something outside
Beware-
The same I approve meekly in my heart!
Ever at strife are my heart and tongue-
To the speechless voice of my heart
Listen you, then, O, my friend!
When something slanderous of women I profess aloud
Understand-
My thievish looks in every corner fish for them!
When I advise you of obscenity to shun with all vehemence
Beware-
The same to my lustful eyes is a sumptuous treat!
Poles apart are my tongue and eyes-
So to the speechless voice of your sleepless conscience
Listen you then, O my friend!
When I seriously resolve to end my life
Beware-
A very strong desire roots deep secretly
In the soil of my heart!
When I burst myself into flashing laughter
Understand-
I break into sobs and swim in tears!
Believe not the play of expressions
On the stage of my face-
So tune your ears
To the speechless storms of my lonesome heart!
--s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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What Is A Jewish Poem?
WHAT IS A JEWISH POEM?
What is a Jewish poem?
‘Shema’ is a Jewish poem
Perhaps the Jewish poem-
'Shmoneh Esreh' is comprised of Jewish poems
Nineteen prayers as one-
Our history is filled with Jewish poems-
From the beginning with Abraham and Sarah
Those who have given so much beyond our understanding -
Jewish poems everywhere -
Is each Jewish life a poem and a story also?
Or is it only those who give something to our people and history
Who are worthy of Poetry?
I have known many Jewish poems
People the great world will not know the names of
People who whether they walked humbly or not
Made the lives of others better in some way –
Kindness is perhaps the ultimate Jewish poem
And Justice also-
And Jewish poems are not without their contradictions –
As I write this poem in Jerusalem in the land of Israel
I think of the small Jewish world of Troy New York where I came from so many years ago
And miss so many people no longer of that and this world –
Longing for Israel for two thousand years was the Jewish poem
Living here now is a blessing and a gift
I thank God for.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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You Don't Stop Writing Girl, Go Girl Go
You don't stop writing girl
You cannot stop, It is part of your nerves now.
Each vein looks for the proper word.
Each red blood corpuscle has become a syllable
For an imaginary poem in your mind.
Each beat of your heart recites a rhyme
A rhythm. A sonnet. A couplet.
Each curl in your cerebellum thinks of
An imagery. Another metaphor comes
And you grasp them with each breath.
You are alive girl. Go girl stop watching
The snow and make your imagination
Run wild like a snowstorm.
The sound of a snowfall. A snowflake
Layering on the side of your window pane
Speaks to you about this coldness
This beautiful sound of a very lonely song
Harking for Love.
Far away from your homeland
You weep for a while and then recover
Compose yourself and see your face in that mirror.
You are strong. You are as vast as the ten thousand miles
Away from us.
Go girl. Another poem knocks at the door of your heart.
Write it. Write about a chaff. The grain. The wheat germ.
Go girl. You are one of us, chosen not to speak
But to write.
I am waiting for your next poem. Gladly, I am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Daily Bread
you do not believe when i tell you that i write everyday
it is routine to me
so my poems
are like
breathings
inhale
exhale
a poem
here a poem there
writing has become like a beating of my heart
so every beat
every pulse
is a poem made
like one kind of a factory
mass production
of breathing and beating
i have developed sort of too much familiarity with this kind of poetic activity and it has become so
so ordinary
and so much familiarity comes my contempt for my daily poetry
it is nothing extraordinary
it is like washing my face
brushing my teeth
cutting my nails
going to the office
teaching my class
reading books
walking the dog
taking a morning walk
lunch with my wife
listening to
lawyers argue
their cases
in court
all these are so ordinary
routinely clockwork
and they are nothing
they are
my poems
my daily bread.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Prayer is Poetry
Prayer is poetry
To Heavenly Father's ears
It is sweet music
That he loves to hear
It is to express
Our emotions
Our loves
And our strives
All my prayers are poems
Because they are so deep
I divuldge everything
All of my soul
All of my mind
And all of my heart
Because I know he hears me
Prayer is a poem
Of the heart
Do not be afraid to share it
With the Father
Who loves you
Beyond everthing
I love poetry
I love prayer
In perfect harmony
Simplisitc clarity
Prayer is powerful
More than the weapons of man
Yet so gentle
As a poem
My favorite form of poetry
Is the beuaty of prayer
poem by Bella Ravenstar
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My dream wonder my wish
the soul witness my desire and the beginning
of my contentment lies down of what my life has
done, the past have already gone and wait for
another time that it will be done
none comes new, but everything goes old, what
makes it so pleasing to see and feel the tenderness
await welcoming the desire of once the heart in
viewed
it is a kind of magic that seems real to touch and the
hearts depart; like castle in the air, building though
its not there, the magic that you can't smile but you
know that you are here
just close and capture the harmony of the past as
it resembled in the heart that wish, to be in reality of
what your ecstasy would be, nay the soul wouldn't
close the journey it showed the wonder of time
that exists in the mind it resists
make your whole self reflects, like your spirit that
rejoice in good tiding it cheers, the wonder of your
dream in your great wish to come true...............
poem by Antonio Liao
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With All The Reading and Writing I Do
With all the reading and writing I do
With all the work of the mind and heart
There comes a time
It can be any time
There comes a time
When the Poem must enter-
The Poem?
The deeper feeling-
The Music of the soul-
What I most need to say inside
The Writing which somehow surpasses all the other
In its inner intensity in its deepest feeling –
I write a poem now
All my heart mind soul
Go into every word and phrase.
The Poem? The Poem?
For which I write to live
And which through writing
I most live in Writing-
The Poem that this is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poetry as bread - In the spirit of Rumi 28
Poetry is like bread – daily bread,
like ‘Irish’ soda bread, best eaten on its day:
In the bakery of the heart and mind,
the baker’s woken early before dawn,
refreshed and clear of purpose, full of the day’s promise;
brings air to flour, moulds and shapes;
as the sun rises, so the bread.
Here it is, warm from the heart,
smell it – this is the smell of goodness, isn’t it?
Touch it, both crisp and soft by turns;
taste its goodness, beauty, truth, its very being;
this is not yesterday’s bread, with which you toy
while waiting between courses, your head’s straying mind
in a thousand other places; this is here and now;
coming warm from the heart; eat it with your heart;
this is the heart’s nourishment; tomorrow it may serve
tomorrow’s mind; today, it is your daily bread,
your nourishment – this poem, warm from heart to heart.
And when you've eaten it - the bread has disappeared -
only your satisfaction remains, beyond all sense;
as these words, already staling on the page,
exposed to all the wanderings of the mind;
only the love that they were made with, still remains;
this, is your daily bread.
[from a metaphor in Rumi's writings]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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