En.Citatepedia^®.ro

I Thought

I thought
you never listened.

But you heard
my wingless words
taking them tenderly

wrote that
which I would
not write.

Strung pearls
among words
of your perceptive

orphaned own.

In that very act
rising
above yourself.

In perpetuity.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words strung across the sky

Words strung across the sky
~
Words strung across the sky
Waiting to be heard
Talk of peace and love
Building a heavenly utopia
To aid our sleep, to ease our guilt
To answer a call to faith
Wealth matters not to words
The class of man falls away
The only judgment is by the self
The words chosen and used
The words listened to
It is people who make a place
And words which bring them together
Let them be written or spoken
As they are found
By the soul of man

poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wrote A Poem I Could Not Write

I wrote a poem I could not write-
And then when I tried to write it again
Could not write it again -

Poems written and not written
Words and more words
What do they mean?

Paradoxes and games with words
What do they mean?

If there is Beauty in the language
It is one thing
But words just to hear themselves think,
Why should they mean ‘Remembrance'?

Oh Words oh Questions oh Darkness oh Life-
Let me write myself to the grave
Believing at least
That poems too even when they can be written
Have their small unhidden meanings.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Working on the value of words

Working on the value of words
~
some words require more
more than being spoken
written, read or listened to
some words need feeling
given their own soul
a touch of emotion
some words fall easily
across the page
or off the tongue
like a catchphrase
meaning almost nothing
words without value
spoken to be heard
said and not listened to
or written and missed
all without feeling
give words emotion
soul, fire and life
give words value
work the next line

poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Above Yourself

You took my words
and wrote;
that which I,
would never write.

In that act
rising;
above,
yourself.

Momentarily?

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thoughts Whirling

The need to write
Get rid of these mixes mass of thought
What to write?
Yes, something is amiss!
Talking is not enough
Yet thoughts whirling in my head
Unaware of revelling in the words
Which flow from this pen
Still no words
Not sure what to write
Yet here it is
A whole massed mess of words
For all to read
Thought this medley of words
Brought some calmness
Shoulders more relaxed
Fragments of each thought
Clear as daylight
This muddled mass of thoughts
A verse created
By, a whirling mind

poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thoughts Whirling

The need to write
Get rid of these mixes mass of thought
What to write?
Yes, something is amiss!
Talking is not enough
Yet thoughts whirling in my head
Unaware of revelling in the words
Which flow from this pen?
Still no words
Not sure what to write
Yet here it is
A whole massed mess of words
For all to read
Thought this medley of words
Brought some calmness
Shoulders more relaxed
Fragments of each thought
Clear as daylight
This muddled mass of thoughts
A verse created
By, a whirling mind

poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Be Quiet

He spoke and spoke so many words
and she just silently thought.
He had an opinion on everything.
She listened and then she sought
silence again, just said Amen
to all those words he said,
Soon thoughts came to her head.

She thought about life.
She thought about love.
She thought about
all he was speaking of.
She thought about nights
where silence prevailed.
She thought about days
where the speaking assailed
her ears.
She'd been thinking and thinking
for too many years.
The quietness was peaceful
but now brought her to tears.

For she missed the sound
of all his words.
She missed everything he said.
He was gone and all was quiet
for all his words were dead.
The thoughts were still there.
The words were not.
And what was it he said?
She forgot.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone

I’ve listened: and all the sounds I heard
Were music,—wind, and stream, and bird.
With youth who sang from hill to hill
I’ve listened: my heart is hungry still.

I’ve looked: the morning world was green;
Bright roofs and towers of town I’ve seen;
And stars, wheeling through wingless night.
I’ve looked: and my soul yet longs for light.

I’ve thought: but in my sense survives
Only the impulse of those lives
That were my making. Hear me say
‘I’ve thought!’—and darkness hides my day.

poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I wrote a verse and thought no more

(to the Afrikaans poet Louis Esterhuyzen)

I wrote a verse and thought no more,
will I write, not another thought to paper put,
and I will be free from petty critics, who with words do cut,
be free from elitist poets who my work deplore,

who claim that I write faster than they can type,
that no real expertise is found in my art,
that I have sold my soul to every reader in parcel and part
that I am the stereotype

of the rubble that are trying to become something
and when I put my pen down
while my thoughts were wandering,
You reminded me that I am Your very own,

that my talent, the words I do impart,
flow freely from my heart.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like To Think That All These Are But A Game Of Words

that is the impression from the beginning
when i started to scribble
word, and more words, i assured her that they do not
mean anything at all just
words, and words and more words

that even a sunflower wilting and spreading all the seed on her feet
are nothing too but words and more words
nothing to grow nothing to expect like a sprouting something

thus my loneliness, i again assure here, is nothing but a word
my way of taking solitude on the other side to save myself
is another word, and she of course, did not believe me saying

there is more to these words, there is fire in them and i see you burning
there is the sun inside them and the letters glow and the

there is smoke rising from the heads of vowels
from the nonspeaking consonants

i keep hiding the flowers
i bury those that are alive in the silence of my pretensions

until one day she grips me like she is a knife wanting to stab me
and then she stabbed me right in my throat and there i bleed

words, words, and more words coming from the slit
bloody words, and she was convinced, until death, ... and then i vanish.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Shitty Poem

Some things makes us wise and Some things makes us bad
Sometimes you just wish, you should have listened to your dad
Sometimes you wonder of the things that you have with you
sometimes you just throw them, and bring yourself all new
Sometimes struck in chaos, when your thought seems to shutdown
Thinking of some shit, sometimes black sometimes brown
Why this fkuk has to happen always with me
Like some tire I roll, where dogs come and they pee
Why is that when I sit down to write some serious stuff
I know It aint that easy but it aint that tough
I have tried it in the morning and I have tried it in the night
But why there has to be some shit in whatever I write
Cant I find some good words, some words you might like
To find them I go to some fine place with my driver and my bike
Many songs I have heard and many songs I have sung
But when I sit and write, I see only cow dung
On a fresh morning, looking for something that could inspire
I end up seeing some fresh shit, some fresh shit on some fire

poem by Kanav Justa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode To A Robert Frost Poem

I thought I took the road less taken.
But I guess I was mistaken.
When the two paths diverged in the woods; I pondered at which path I must take.
I took the path to my left in the woods; Was it the right path to take?
It was not, but I digress.
Why must I deal will all this stress?
As I sit and try to recall all of the words from the poem Frost once wrote, I must emote.
This ode to that grand old poem that Frost once wrote.
The name of that Robert Frost poem is 'The Rode Not Taken'.
As I write this ode to a Robert Frost's poem, the words he wrote be not mistaken.
I thought I took the path less taken.
I will now end this ode to go eat some bacon.

poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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Faint Of Heart

I wish you could have read
The Letters that I didn’t write

Would’ve liked for you to have heard
Words I didn’t say

I wish you could have felt the touch
Of hands that didn’t reach out at night

Would’ve liked to know
What you didn’t feel…

When you didn’t hear the words…
Words I didn’t say…words I couldn’t write

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Speaking 4 U

how is poem..?

not Thing is thear...

ALL ARE WORDS

SOME WORDS NICE

SOME WORDS SPICE

SOME WORDS NOTHING

SOME WORDS LOVELY

SOME WORDS BEAUTYFUL

SOME WORDS HUNGRY

SOME WORDS ANGRY

THATS ALL...

WRITE IT

LOVE IT...

THIS IS FOR OTHERS

U ARE READ YOURS...

THATS ALL

TAKE A LITTLE SMILE

LIFE IS THIS..

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Should Have Listened To Me

(tim hunt/steve bogard/rick giles)
(track 4 - time 3:30)
When you told me you needed a little time on your own
I kinda lied and said Id be alright all alone
My friends said hey man what can you do
Let her see whats missing and shell come back to you
They all said it was for the best
But I knew as I watched you leave
I shouldve listened to me, and gotten down on my knees
I heard the words in my heart, dont tear us apart
Come back baby please
I shouldve swallowed my pride, I shouldve broke down and cried
I was the one who knew that you and I were meant to be
I shouldve listened to me
Call it intuition, an instinctual feeling
When you know you bet it all and your gonna lose everything
Thats what I had when you walked out the door
And as each day passes Im feeling it more and more
Now that Im hear its all so clear
How could I have made you see
I shouldve listened to me, and gotten down on my knees
I heard the words in my heart, dont tear us apart
Come back baby please
I shouldve swallowed my pride, I shouldve broke down and cried
I was the one who knew that you and I were meant to be
I shouldve listened
I shouldve listened to me, and gotten down on my knees
I heard the words in my heart, dont tear us apart
Come back baby please
I shouldve swallowed my pride, I shouldve broke down and cried
I was the one who knew that you and I were meant to be
I shouldve listened to me
I shouldve listened to me

song performed by by Yankee Grey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words

Words are my weapon
words are my shield
Guns and knifes just ruin lives
so words I keep concealed
Words are all I have here
they help me struggle on
Words are here forever,
when all I have is gone
In my thoughts or in my poems
Words will help ease my brain
I write down what is on my mind
Expressing love or feeling pain
Not that many I can trust
But words I can depend
Words wont turn there back on you
Words are my only friend

poem by Nic Hillen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Say The Words

Every light shines on you tonight
Making a fool out of me
Why wont this love leave me alone
All of the people in this smoky room
Crowded with faces I know
I feel them watching me watch you
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Your eyes are deeper
They are worthy of many words
But none I can conjure up will do for you
I shouldnt see you
cause I know my own motivation
Its taking too long for this love
To leave me alone
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over
Bridge
Oh love you worry me
When you say youll wait forever
I have another life
We just cannot be together
Chorus
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words say them for me
I need to hear you say its over
Say the words
Say the words
Say the words so I can leave its over

song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing

My words they no longer flow like a calm river
They rip, through, delicate flowers wither
Not in a long time have I wrote pure gold
One more worthless word and I'll explode

So I write these words to help express
That to me my writing can no longer impress
If the letters I write turn to heavy stone
Maybe I should try changing my tone

Even when words sing a merry tune
When the words hit me like a monsoon
I look back and scowl at scribbles and letters
And know there is a need for them to be better

So I try to write something funny, add humour
Rhythms with big cats, small rats, lions and pumas
But it all seems to lack that special spark
Something with a vicious bite and a gentle bark

Let's try and make it dark, murder and death
Something that literally stops ones breath
Words that hide the killer, build suspense
But this dark angst and pain is all pretence

A rhyme about love, happy and quite light
A poem about everything that can go right
Maybe just maybe it will all fit together
But these words take too long, almost forever

I guess I'll just carry on in this infuriating way
I'll continue writing the words I just can't say
So when I feel the need to write I'll let it all out
Then you will find out just what I will write about

poem by Rebecca Pepper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Giving Up (The Last Script)

Long ago I wrote a script
About how I hate to write,
It is called A Cursed Gift
You will find it on this site.

About how I hate finding the words
That hurt me deep within my heart,
How I want this skill to end right now
Leave my hand, let us part.

How I hate to write about love
And how the pain follows near,
How I never want to find the words
The painful words I deathly fear.

I really don't want to love again
So I can avoid the following break,
I said I was tired of finding words
'In which I write as I shake.'

Love is cruel with hurtful pains
But writing it is the worst,
I'm giving up on all of it
Love, pain, and gift so cursed.

poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inner Need

I had something strange happen to me.
Someone asked for a copy of my Easter sermon.
They said the words I spoke
made such of an impression on them.
They asked if they could have
a copy of it to keep.
Of course, I said it was no problem.

Sometimes we as writers
write things we cannot see,
that fill someone else’s world
with some inner need.
The words we write bring them something
we may have never thought about.

They bring some peace of mind
that they had been searching for.
They feel our words
are so relevant to them
that they have this need
to read those words
over and over again.

2 May 2009

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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