IndividualisticTastes Appreciation
When an artist
returns to read
a favourite poem
from time to time
it amazes that no
one deep shares
such appreciation
such contemplation.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Painted Canvass: Perspective Master Strokes
Luxury. Time and a whole new poem to cite.
Exquisite. An exceptional poem a classic write.
A great poem from a favourite master poet.
And mine all mine to read now in the night.
With deep appreciation, I read these words in hues of light.
Others may fear fail to tread, this path that shines so bright.
First we avid read, then deconstruct, then reconstruct,
the words are whole again, with new fair crafted insight.
If we do not venture, into the words?
How will we know, there meanings?
The poem was whole, written in theme concepts.
Word play gifted images, savour ponder contrasts.
Mine eye perceives perspective, shaped in logic art.
The images drawn forever grace, astound my heart.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faves And Yuks
and some say
oh that’s my favourite ever poem
my aunt my uncle my teacher read it
to me when I was twelve
and the more I read it
the more true it is and now
I’m older I can say it off by heart
as if the poem knows my heart
and some say
that poem yuk I really really hate it
the more people said to me
that’s a great poem
the more I hated it
now if I see it
in an anthology
I skip the page quickly
I really really hate it
and I wonder if
the more people read a poem
do they take a bit of its power into themselves
so it no longer has quite that surprise it had
or the more people read that poem
the more they add to it
so it has the power
to surprise more people
or do poems
like a rest from time to time
like that old toy in
your grandparents’ attic
which so surprised you
that Jack-in-a-box
with a face like
Pushkin
or Langston Hughes
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Poem Returns Life Returns
WHEN THE POEM RETURNS LIFE RETURNS
When the poem returns life returns
There is enthusiasm and exuberance again
There is something to live for
And dreams are dreams
And hopes give hope-
When the poem returns life returns
And I begin again here
As if there is some sense after all
In writing and living again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Is There Time For A Poem?
Is there time for a poem
In a world of other sounds?
Is there time for a poem
When songs cannot be heard?
Is there time for a poem
In a time when fear is everywhere?
Is there time for a poem
When no one knows the way to help?
Is there time for a poem
In the darkest time, in the time of no way out?
Is there time for a poem
Any time a person alone
Cannot dare to breathe their own Name
Against the silence of the night?
2.
Is there time for a poem now
When all is so light and bright
There is nothing not even evil to fear
And all the world is singing and saying words of beauty?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Read This Poem!
read this poem beacause it will make you laugh,
read this poem it goes deep in your heart,
here and there everywhere,
read this poem or it means you dont care,
care of anything really importent,
before i flaunt it dont worry your almost there,
read this poem and you are there.
poem by Jade Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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18 Definitions Of A Short Poem
1) A short poem
Saves time,
2) A short poem
Saves time
For its reader, also.
3) A short poem is over
Before its read.
4) A short poem
Can be swiftly reread.
5) A short poem
Is a lightning flash.
6) A short poem
Is one metaphor only.
7) A short poem
Is less than nine words.
8) A short poem
Opens ones eyes
In the morning.
9) A short poem
May be a short prayer.
10) A short poem
May be a poem of a single word.
11) Poem.
12) A short poem
A small play on words.
13) A short poem
May be a single sentence.
14) A short poem is shorter
Than the definition of it.
15) It breaks up the icy sea within.
16) A chill down the spine.
17) There is no end
To making definitions of the short poem.
18) A short poem in Hebrew
Is shorter than than the same poem in English.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Not Like You
I sit here now,
Writing this poem.
You read it now,
No matter what’s goin.
Sometimes it’s rainy,
Sometimes it’s not.
You read this poem now,
Go do you the homework you forgot.
Life can be simple,
It can also be complicated.
Be when read this now,
Please don’t get frustrated.
Thanks for reading this,
You’re a cool person that much is true.
But to spend the time and read,
I’m probably not much like you.
For Every Time There Is A Poem
FOR EVERY TIME THERE IS A POEM
For every time there is a poem
And for every season also
For life there is a poem
And for the end of life
For what we love and what we hate
For what we are and what we are not
For our vanity and for our most caring love
For our goodness and for our failings in goodness
For what is and what is not
For what was and what will be
For all things and times and seasons
There is a poem –
But perhaps
Beyond what our mind and reason can know
There is a time too
When no poem
However good or great or wise
Can speak of what we feel-
No poem as deep as the silence of Awe
And Gratitude to G-d.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do Not Read! ! !
Don't read this poem!
Turn back while you have the chance
Or you will regret it
This poem is a poem of darkness
This poem is a devourer of souls
It will destroy you
Consume you
Absorb you into its black depths
I tried to warn you
I told you not to read it
Why are you still reading?
If I had named it 'READ THIS POEM! ! ! '
Would you have even bothered?
This poem is pulling you in
It has your feet
It's eating you
It's shattering your soul
It's never going to let you go
It's murdering you
This poem is a murderer
It is a criminal, it is evil
It is unnameable, unbreakable, imperfect
This poem has you
It's too late for you now
There's no escape for you now
Too bad
This poem has you
This poem's devoured you
Yummm, good
This poem is satisfied now
You should have listened to me
But you didn't
And now the poem's taken you
You're dead.
If I Feel A Poem When I Read The Poem
IF I FEEL A POEM WHEN I READ THE POEM
If I feel the poem when I read the poem
It is a poem -
But when I read the poem
And cannot feel the poem
It is not a poem.
So the same poem
One time is a poem
And another time
Is not a poem.
And this poem too
Does not know what it really is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem For All
I am
Looking around, all the time
Just as before, for a poem
A balanced poem, without sides
A poem without inclination, non-biased
A poem without pigmentation, colourless
A poem without religion, faithless
A poem without a nation, stateless
A poem devoid of immigration officers, borderless
A poem without language, speechless, silent
I am
Looking around all the time
Just as before, for that poem
Everyone’s poem, everyone’s song!
poem by Isaac Maliya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Books I Read
I was once asked
what sort of books I read.
To be honest
I never gave it much thought.
I read all sorts of books
from crime fiction to poetry,
by many assorted authors.
I read literary classics
and some not so classic at all.
If they asked me
who my favourite author is,
again I’d be in confusion there too.
However a few of the names
that spring to mind are,
F Scott Fitzgerald, John Steinbeck,
Ernest Hemmingway, James Herriot,
Agatha Christie, Edgar Wallace
and surprisingly enough Mickey Spillane.
I have no favourite author
of any particular genre
as I only read
how I feel at the time.
27 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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In Your Room
In your room
Where time stands still
Or moves at your will
Will you let the morning come soon
Or will you leave me lying here
In your favourite darkness
Your favourite half-light
Your favourite consciousness
Your favourite slave
In your room
Where souls disappear
Only you exist here
Will you lead me to your armchair
Or leave me lying here
Your favourite innocence
Your favourite prize
Your favourite smile
Your favourite slave
I'm hanging on your words
living on your breath
feeling with your skin
Will I always be here
In your room
Your burning eyes
Cause flames to arise
Will you let the fire die down soon
Or will I always be here
Your favourite passion
Your favourite game
Your favourite mirror
Your favourite slave
I'm hanging on your words
living on your breath
feeling with your skin
Will I always be here
song performed by by Zeraphine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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for Tem on his last day
THE WORLD does not weep
for a quitter, no matter what
no matter how deep is your sorrow
no matter how justifying the circumstances
precipitating inside that cup of poison,
another poem is written for you
a sympathizer from another country
perhaps suffering too
like you
or us, but it will be only for a short while,
after the last word is written and read
the world moves again, spins upon itself
to complete another revolution,
nothing is achieved much, time does not tell,
but the motion keeps on moving
like a spiral, like a steep stair moving up
only to arrive at an empty room,
i believe in something else,
that someone is waiting out there
i guess, you are right, the end is reasonable,
but the means will always be questioned.
i hope you still have time to read the poem of Mike
i guess, sincerity lies there,
i still shiver about an old age that could not wait
for more time.
at the end, who knows? but you cannot tell. You are silent
as cement.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why do I read yours?
I spent time and read your poem.
By that time I’d have read those
Of Shakespeare and enjoyed them.
Yet I did for you will read mine.
26.03.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem To Be Heard
A poem to be held
a poem to be fed, with words stronger than the ancient
spirits.
Ti's a poem to be read by all.
A poem that beats the heat of temptation away.
It's power in every single word attracts the moonlight.
A poem, a light in the dark wilderness.
A poem that is just needed and leaves the audience
speechless.
A poem that comforts a sad soul.
Read to me a poem
when I'm cold.
Read it to me till I'm old.
When I'm heart broken, a poem, a love, I'd want.
A poem, a victory through lives endless battle.
A poem an epistle to mine heart, and every written word
in it is heard.
A poem, about royalty, about Kings and Queens
and how they live in luxury.
A poem, a song about sweet heavens.
Read me a poem and slow my heart beat down.
A poem with a tasty flavor, I'd want to hear.
Read me a poem that explains how Nelson Mandela
conquered his fears.
A poem that can describe how Martin Luther Kings
felt when he fought for freedom.
I long to hear it,
Therefor read me a poem,
to be heard.
poem by Marlene Rashidi
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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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The Poem I Most Love
THE POEM I MOST LOVE
The poem I most love
Was written to me by my dreams
Long before I was born
It did not know its name
But came from somewhere else deep inside
The beyond of God-
I do not know its name
I can only feel and hear it again and again
When the music of some other time
Some other life I lived once and have lost
Returns to me.
The poem I most love
Is the life which has been
And will never come again
Seeing it and hearing it
I know we human beings are dreams and dreams again always dreams
And never ever to be finally at peace and true
But longing and longing for what we were and not were
What we lived and did not live
What we will never be again
And always are.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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If I Only Had A Little More Time.
Dear sir, will you read and comment on my poem?
I think if I have time to with so many request most of the time I just read poems as a see them on the website.
Can we do that instead.
Or how how I browse all your poems and pick one that catches my eye?
Why can't I choose when I have the time?
Its not that I don't like these authors I really do.
I would read everyone they wrote given a chance.
But my goodness I work 12 hrs out of the day usually.
And if not working I'm either helping friend repair his home from the flood, or building another computer from old junk computers, or I'm writing.
Can you see how I have a hard time fitting that in always on a constant basis?
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Who Gets To Play Artist?
who gets
to play artist
for a few years
for a life time
as life artist?
for a life time
mostly full time
or part time
art time
is fool time?
or real time
sacred time?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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