Word Escapees Running Wild
words have ways of escaping
from the confines of an entombment page
words can appear in strange places
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Words, Words, Words
We seem to define words so as to use them,
Conquering the speech of another person;
Just to be a speaker is even better for a person
Than to read or write and practise scholarship.
We meet words carefully chosen by them and combine
To form sentences that will be recognised,
Thus the attached meaning is passed on;
Prosperity is the objective, success is marvellous.
Scholars are thinking men, relaxed by books,
They do not only speak, but look at the messages
From the written word, learning godly works,
Escaping blunders, escaping our mockery.
We are with fine words, words capture us,
Your vocabulary depends on your cleverness and intelligence,
So concoct the perfect sentences,
Invent the same language that we speak.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A waltz of words...
Like ingredients in some magical cosmic recipe,
I pour my words onto a blank empty page,
My fingers caressing the letters on each key,
Like the instruments in an orchestra without sound,
Each sentence paints a picture in words,
An alphabet of paint I have come to know so well,
To free my words from the page all you need do is read,
For only then may they swirl through the air,
Alive with their own meaning and motion,
A waltz of words... Dancing within your synapses...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Strange Words Travel by Tongue
Strange Words Travel by Tongue
by Alex Lewis
Strange words travel by tongue
A lesson learnt at young.
If this is how strange words fly,
Then how do normal ones travel by?
By plane? By boat?
By horse? By goat?
By ear? By eye?
By ground? By sky?
Unless, all words are strange.
Thus, shortening the range
Of good and bad.
Of sane and mad.
Of old and young.
All words travel by tongue.
poem by Alex Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Is An Adventure In Writing Words
Life is an adventure in writing words
It is going out alone and finding them
Beyond where the ordinary mind and life is
It is seeking them in difficult and strange places
And discovering the most complex and beautiful of them-
Life is an adventure in writing words
Sometimes simple
Sometimes with the words themselves forgotten
As thoughts pursued through them-
The adventure goes on
My mind goes on
My life goes on
Words go on
On and on and on and on
Until we stop.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
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Lip Service
Words inspire and words destroy
Words conspire and words annoy
Words spread freedom and words detain
Words believe them in sound refrain
Words of passion in words misleading
Words without action are words without meaning
poem by P.R. Prosper
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The Poems Went Away
THE POEMS WENT AWAY
The poems went away.
Nothing inside.
An empty will for poetry
Forcing words on the page,
Words without music
Without resonance
Without great implication
Meaning.
Write, write, write
Lest you die.
And the words themselves
A kind of desperate uphill catching of breath
On the page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poetry Has Gone Out Of Me
The Poetry has gone out of me
I am as blank as prose-
There is no force of feeling in me
Flat as a lox my words on the page-
I am the middle of the Midwest
Going on and on on the surface only-
I have no inside-
No wind shakes me-
Words are words and only words,
Detached from all emotion-
How flat stale not even weary and unprofitable can a blank confessional poem be?
The feeling of being without feeling
No feeling at all.
A lox inside and a lox on the page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Words of the Ancient Future
Plumes of purple glowing words
On my wall on my aqua soul
Escaping the grief wars
Sailing the constraints of time
Poised with arrows of premonition
Released in pools of prophecy
Unconscious wine of mystic energy
Great craters in the mountain rain
Islands lush with forests of crystal
Rest in the radiant rivers
Graze like emerald seagulls
Flames along the coast
Words sigh in the tide
Soul words of the ghost world
She loves me with words
Walls with vines of summer words
Fractals of dawns rising king
Banyan Buddha
Rivalry of knowledge reduced
Your words come from pain
Your dreams have no sea
On the outside of your plans
Cordial words like a pallbearer
Illumined equinox dials
Words of the crying
Words of music
Words of romance
Spiritual words
Hear the star fields speak
Words of moonlight
Words with lamps
Words of the ancient future
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Fading ink
Fading ink
~
the words which flowed
from pen to page
in a steady stream
have trickled silently
into a vacant space
silent prose sits impatiently
awaiting the spark
to ignite inspiration
to fire up the pen
and resume its flow
of words from pen to paper
but a nothingness holds
space for rent across the page
a canvas of thought
where words once ran
the old ink fades
in the light of a new day
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Will The Words Come Back?
Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?
13 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Things You Say
Words
Said in a careless huff as you walked away
Hurt
Words
Said in a whispered excited voice
Caused electricity in me
Words
Said in a caring loving way
Were a balm for the wound in me
Words
Said in an angry menacing way
Felt like daggers thrown at me
Words
Said like sugary sweet morning due
Caused my knees to go weak
Words
Words, Words, Words..
Your words have so much power over me
Words
Said like a magic spell
Have enchanted me
Words
You throw around those words so carelessly
Do you know
Words
How they have been affecting and inflicting me..
poem by Rabia Minhas
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the poem that N A M E D itself
it crawls out
slithering snake
onto the paper
spread like the Bible
out before me
and I think:
what shall I write?
and it seeps out
bleeding black
onto the paper
words that form
from the hollow
places inside me
that sometimes
I can’t find
and it calls forth
emotions that
deserve the words
I can’t give
—except
I give them
my pen is sharp
and my hand aches
the words are
pouring out onto
the face
of blank paper
and I am staring
outside myself
not writing the
words but merely
a vessel for them
to contain themselves
when it is done
and the hollow places
are silent I ask:
what shall I
call it?
but it is already
N A M E D
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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These Words Are Meant For You
So there is no confusion let clarity clarify here
these words on this page are meant for you;
you.
Strung along these lines are precious intents
longing longings from down deep where souls converse,
floodings of sentiments traversing time and distance all
forming a straight line to you.
Gratitude is the staff that allows me to walk and write-
bread given me by you
sustains;
for clarity's sake
understand
these words are meant for you;
you.
Time and distance, acquaintance
and daily externals and such
mean less than these
soul exchanges proffered.
These words are meant for you;
yes you.
In the interstices words allow
in the hurried moments
where emotions and ideas fly
there is only I you and the written page
and that is enough
These words are meant for you-J
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words say so much
Words are everywhere you look
in the paper and in the book
we all use them when we speak
in languages like French and Greek.
A baby uses them to speak to it's Mum
that's why she knows it wants talc on it's bum
but teenagers say words we don't understand
and singers sing them like Elvis and Streisand.
People lose their temper and shout and cuss
like when they stub a toe or miss a bus
that's when swear words can be heard
words you won't find in the Times crossword.
Someone who's drunk will talk in a strange way
these words can be heard in pubs on a Saturday
there's short words, and some which are long,
and some words that are nearly always spelt wong.
But that's enough words for now I'll put down my pen,
it's the end, over, ceased, finished, stopped, AMEN.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Unreasonable Words (an abstraction of reason)
I tire of my old language.
So many words
no longer fly.
I'm left to ponder:
Who am I?
It seems so strange
that in my mind,
I can open doors
so wide, up to the sky, going far into rooms
containing many new wonders to find.
Yet on this wrinkled paper
it's all ancient,
old and dusty.
A few scattered syllables,
dank and musty.
How many times,
by how many people
in how many ways
can words be flown?
... perhaps as many,
and as much
as the air can be breathed
that's millions of years old...
As long as people have
been breathing,
they have been speaking.
The air will continue on,
refreshing.
I hope the words
shall also.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Each little word
Each little word
~
Words said in haste
Angry little words
Looking to vent emotion
Shouting, screaming
Get it out, set it free
Then repent later on
Wondering why what was said
Was said anyway
Untrusting words
Regretful sounding
Sought only to attack
Or defend something, someone
They have no thought
No relevance behind them
Spat with venom
Into the world, a page
Let them rest, wash away
Forget them all
Each little word
Apologetic at times
Those words said in haste
Are words wasted
poem by Matthew Holloway
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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
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Let The Poem I Write Be The Dream I Am
Let the poem I write be the dream I am
And let the secret silence of my words
Be the mystery of my own inner music
And let what comes to me on the page
Be the dance of the light God has given me
And let my words be quiet holy words
Which fill this day with prayer for all those
I Love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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