Just a Few Things I Don't Like About Writing Poetry

Why do some of my best ideas
Wake me out of a sound sleep
At 2: 06 somtimes 3: 28 AM
Damn green digital numbers

Then I can't find
My beside notebook until
I bump into something
That wakes my wife

By the time I've assured her
There has not been
An attempted break-in
Found the notebook where's the pen

Finally quiet as I can
Get to the bathroom
Turn on the light
Get comfortably seatd

I am sure I have
Forgotten most of the good parts
The ones that remain make little sense
Now that I am fully awake

Another thing

Why is most of the heavy lifting
Done at my end of the process
If you don't think so
You're not the one

Who carries my full wastebasket
Of drafts to our blue recycling can
It's only the paper worth saving
Not what's on them I assure you

Fridays that blue sucker
Has to be rolled to the curb
Later I hear the automated arms
Of the truck straining to lift

Some of my best first tries
As they are unceremoniously
Carted away to be recycled
For someone else's next attempts

(Note to self: Learn to write and revise
Live on the computer
'Do not save' will save trips
To the unvirtual garbage can

I'll find other ways
To get my exercise
Gathering material
To write about

As long as I can get
Enough rest before
Another great idea
Rudely wakes me up)

poem by Tom J. MarianiReport problemRelated quotes
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Y... Garbage Man

Become a garbage man
Every day, just for a minute
Search for some litter
Pick up some garbage
Where ever you can

Don't stoop down.
Not good for the back
Just sit on your heels
Stay squatted and look up
It gives you a special perspective

Pick up a hand full
Walk to the bin
Not the nearest
The walking is exercise
Good for your body

So, become a garbage man
It can give you perspective
It is good for your body
It is good for the world
Just a hand full per day.

-
Note:

Garbage men really deserve ou full respect.

I got the idea to write this piece when I was picking up a handful of garbage from the beach. I thought if there more people picking up garbage than people throwing garbage, littering would no longer be a problem.

I hope in this poem there is nothing disrespectful of garbage men. They really do a great job en deserve our respect as much as doctors and lawyers deserve our respect (as indicated in the comments by unwritten soul below)

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Once Again I Write...

This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
I write to save my sanity.
I write to ease my heart.
I write to cleanse my soul.
I write to feel alive.
I write to keep my mind strong and my thoughts clear.
I write my words of sorrow, despair, pain, and love, as well as words of wisdom.
I write so that one day someone will truly know me.
This paper, this pen is once again my inspiration.
It is the inspiration to what I see.
It is the inspiration to what I hear.
It is the inspiration to what I feel.
It is the inspiration to the art I create.
It is the inspiration to what I draw.
It is the inspiration to the love for my daughter.
It is the inspiration to the love for my husband.
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
Once again I write to say thank you my timeless friends.
Thank you for saving me time and time again.

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Write Me

Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.

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I Couldn't Say Goodbye

I watch you as you're sleeping
As I'm standing at the door
I don't want to let you go
But I can't hold on anymore
I just can't find the strength
To say I'm leaving you
It's over now, it's over now
And there's nothing I can do
I couldn't say goodbye
Couldn't stand the pain
Couldn't watch you cry
Knowing that your heart would break
So I let you sleep
Till the morning light
When you wake up and you read the note I write
Telling you that I
I couldn't say goodbye
I'm walking down this rainy street
Thinking you're awake by now
As you read my letter
And the tears fall from your eyes
Just know I tried to make it work
It just wasn't meant to be
I needed you, I needed you
But not the way you needed me
I couldn't say goodbye
Couldn't stand the pain
Couldn't watch you cry
Knowing that your heart would break
So I let you sleep
Till the morning light
When you wake up and you read the note I write
Telling you that I
I couldn't say goodbye
I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't want to make you cry
It's over now, yes it's over now
I just couldn't say goodbye
I couldn't say goodbye
Couldn't stand the pain
Couldn't watch you cry
Knowing that your heart would break
So I let you sleep
Till the morning light
When you wake up and you read the note I write
Telling you that I
I couldn't say goodbye

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Sonnet For Homework

Okay, sonnet for homework.
I'm in the library, ready to write.
My notebook thick, pen poised to write on it.
My mind open, ready to get it right.

My view? The sky and billowing white clouds,
Tip of trees languidly blowing in the breeze.
I cherish the quiet, the lask of crowds
But the outdoor view is merely a tease.

Surrounded by stacks of books here I sit.
Slight noises of people, paper and books.
A constant motor's hum and bit by bit
I write this poem, concerned with how it looks.

Does it make sense, read well, and does it scan?
Or instead, perhaps some trash for the can?

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I Promised Not To Wake Up Early And Write Again

but of course, here i am.
it is 4: 25 in the morning.
i wake up earlier than
i expected. there is no sense wriggling
on the bed that no longer feels my yearning for sleep.
i rise.
i open the computer. i hear its buzzing sound. No problem i am
willing to write about nothing
nothing at all. call it emptiness. call it weariness. on a very early
morning. but it does not matter at all. this is this. this is it.
this is what i am. just going. just coming. just writing.
whatever.

outside the rooster keeps its announcement
of a promising morning. the hens are laying their eggs.
some steps of strangers pass by. sagging footsteps
for an early work to do. opening doors of their stores.
dusting, cleaning, baking the bread. displaying wares.
the salesgirl still yawning on an unwashed face.
the dog wakes up and wags its tail on my side.
as i write.

my life begins to unfold. it is another poem. another story.
written and kept. there is nothing more important to do anyway.

you look for a rhyme. You do not find it here. Go somewhere.
That poet over there, the one with the color of dusk
keeps some. Talk to him. Meanwhile, I am through.
No promises again this time.

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The herd of sheep.

I wake up; the sun wakes up.
As I wake up the sun wakes up.
When I wake up the sun wakes up.
Since I wake up the sun wakes up.
Because I wake up the sun wakes up.
I shall show you the day;
I shall dispel the dark.
I shall show you the night-less day.
I am the seer, the prophet, the son of God.
I am the God incarnation.
The head told; the herd of sheep followed.
12.11.2005

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2008: My Writing

Somtimes I need to write
At 3 AM
When the house is
Dark and quiet

Nothing
But the LEDs
Watching
Me work

Often I need music
Sometimes my mixes
Then a single artist's CD
Or random automated all-night FM radio

There are times
My writing needs a boost
From Starbucks or Peets
Soft music and socialization

I am inspired too
By the shouts of children
Fighting over who got
The best toy with their Happy Meal

I live in this world
I draw from this world
What I write I write
About this world and others

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A Poet To Be

A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.

I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.

I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.

I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.

But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.

I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.

I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.

I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.

A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.

I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.

I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.

It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.

A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.

But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.

How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.

As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.

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Two Of A Kind, Workin On A Full House

Yes, shes my lady luck
Hey, Im her wild card man
Together were buildin up a real hot hand
We live out in the country
Hey, shes my little queen of the south
Yea, were two of a kind
Workin on a full house.
She wakes me every mornin
With a smile and a kiss
Her strong country lovin is hard to resist
Shes my easy lovin woman
Im her hard-workin man, no doubt
Yea, were two of a kind
Workin on a full house .
Yea, a pickup truck is her limousine
And her favorite dress is her faded blue jeans
She loves me tender when the goin gets tough
Somtimes we fight just so we can make up.
Lord I need that little woman
Like the crops need the rain
Shes my honeycomb and Im her sugar cane
We really fit together
If you know what Im talkin about
Yea, were two of a kind
Workin on a full house.
This time I found a keeper, I made up my mind
Lord the perfect combination is her heart and mine
The skys the limit, no hill is too steep
Were playin for fun, but were playin for keeps.
So draw the curtain, honey
Turn the lights down low
Well find some country music on the radio
Im yours and youre mine
Hey, thats what its all about
Yea, were two of a kind
Workin on a full house.
Lordy, mama, well be two of a kind
Workin on a full house.

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Why Do I Write

I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go

I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain

At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down

I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it

I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am

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Being A Poet

I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.

Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.

At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.

If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.

There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.

I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.

Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.

In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.

With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.

Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!

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Metaphor II

Life is paper; we are pens.
A story to write we must
Will you write a poem?
Or perhaps a sonnet?
What about tales
Of frogs in blue bonnets?
Or a conglomeration
Of witty falsehoods?
Or a long narration
Of those who have stood
For freedom and truth
And other sugh things?
Or a limerick
With a rhythm that rings?
Maybe you would really rather
Write a ripping rollicking riddle?
Or classical rhymes
Like the “Hey Diddle Diddle”?
All very good, all very well
But what about prose?
That’s an excellent field
That gets up and goes
On and on and on until
You find something wonderful
Like frogs in blue bonnets
Or pirates so plunderful!
Why not try your hand at wit?
Just make sure your jokes are funny!
For nothing’s so rotten as punch line forgotten.
And really won’t bring home the money.
Hey! How ‘bout this?
A song! A ballad!
Of heroes gone by like Honest Abe Lincoln
Or good old Gil-Galad!
But look – there’s more!
Non-ficiton is educational!
Of wreslters and pianos
And anvils sensational!
Did I mention nature?
A marvelous course!
There’s frogs in blue bonnets
Bird, dog, and horse.
You can choose any way that you like
Just be sure that it’s sensible.
(Or not) and appealing,
And also (or not) comprehensible.
Now that I’ve shown you just what you are
(A pen, in case, like me, you forgot)
Look at that paper you’ve got in your grip
And give it all that you’ve got!

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Blue Moon Monday

So scared of the dark
Frightened now to close heavy eyes
Escape this dream
Haunts my every cell
Whenever I sleep
I wake into a world
After the war
Cities turned to sand
We live underground
Ever since the end of the fall
Nations erased
Programmed 20 years ago
I'm alive
Blue Moon Monday
Blue Moon Monday
I can't believe the scene
Some day, some day
So safe within my arms
One day, one way
We will return again
Blue Moon Monday
Again I awake
Into a perfect world
The sun always shines
Here I feel so safe
I'm living two lives
The darkness and the light
Heaven and Hell
I don't wanna die
Don't let me sleep
Why can't just you hear what I say?
Which is the dream
Now I don't understand
Am I alive?
Blue Moon Monday
Blue Moon Monday
I can't believe the scene
Some day, some day
So safe within my arms
One day, one way
We will return again
Blue Moon Monday

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Write It Down In Blue

Everyone knows it, see talks goin' 'round
It ain't no secret 'cause it's all over town
Some people are talkin' that we know so well
Everyone's heard it but the one you can't tell
Write it down in blue
Sorry I don't love you
If you can't face the truth
And you can't say we're through
Write it down in blue
What you are feeling, you just can't explain
Oh you got your reasons, now you just can't change
And there's no way to hide it 'cause baby I can see
So if you can't say it then do this for me
Write it down in blue
Sorry I don't love you
If you can't face the truth
And you can't say we're through
Write it down in blue
Yeah, that's the thing to do
If you can't say it's over
And you can't say we're through
Write it down in blue
Blue, blue, blue
Write it down in blue, oh
Blue, blue, blue
Write it down in blue
Write it down in blue
Everyone knows it, see talks goin' 'round
It ain't no secret it's all over town
Some people are talkin' that we know so well
Everyone's heard it but the one you can't tell
Write it down in blue
Sorry I don't love you
If you can't face the truth
And you can't say we're through
Write it down in blue
Yeah, that's the thing to do
If you can't say it's over
And you can't say we're through
Write it down in blue, oh yeah
Write it down, write it down
Write it down in blue
Write it down, write it down
Write it down in blue

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Fresh Notebook

She bought me a fresh notebook
To write my deepest thoughts
Deliver up my soul
Daily to her

A hard serrated border
Thick along the spine
Designed to pay tribute in words

An opening address
A nod a wink
Initialled in my best
Invisible ink

I turn a new leaf over
Another page, far from
A new beginning
Or a new address

A naked page where I confess
My deepest wish
To sleep with you

On sheets of winter snow

One day I'll write
A sonnet for your eyes
Smiling like the cold sunlight
And close the notebook shut

Liberating me
From sharp parallel lines
And you will feed
Your hungered soul

On pages of my life

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Write Me A Letter

Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it has)
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it is)
Well Ive been away forever
Suicides crossin my mind
Well Ill never, never get so far behind
I said, the ways of the night are evil
Without that lord of day
But Ill never, never get so far away
I said write me
Write me
Write me
Write me
I said write me
Write me
Write me
Well theres nothin I can see
Thatd ever make me
Want to be without her
Shes good, she good to me
Said theres no way to explain
The kind of feelin that you get out in the
She good, she good to me
She good, she good to me
I love her
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it has)
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it is)
Well Ive been away forever
Suicides crossin my mind
Well Ill never, never get so far behind
Well Ive been so many places
Hidin from the wind and the rain
But you could write me a letter
For to save me from goin insane
Write me
Excite me
Write me
Write me
Write me
Write me...

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Heavy Heart

Heavy heart think of yesterday
And you're torn apart
Thinking of the ways it was easier to smile
More than today love grew wild
Heavy heart like a perfect stranger
You make it hard
Taking all the blame - still you hear the sound
Calling your name - troubles coming down
Too heavy

Turn it around
It's pressing me down
Heavy heart
This time I find
It weighs on my mind
Heavy heart

It's just like you to take it all so far
Then you feel abused and wonder who you are
Everything you've done - anything you start
Can turn and run
Ain't it true - it's only just a stage
Gotta give it room - start an empty page
Get back in the game - but do it your way
You don't have to play so heavy

Turn it around
It's pressing me down
Heavy heart
This time I find
It weighs on my mind
Heavy heart

When your heart is strong it leads you on
But when it breaks you
It devastates you for so long
Turn it around
It's pressing me down
Heavy heart
This time I find
It weighs on my mind
Heavy heart

Turn it around
It's pressing me down
Heavy heart
This time I find
It weighs on my mind
Heavy heart


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Isn't Poetry Great?

Poetry is great
poetry is fun
you can write
about anything
under the Sun.
It can be cathartic
and can save your day
you can write how you feel
if your unsure what to say.
Poetry can be serious
and can make you weep
but some poetry is boring
and can send you off to sleep.
But as long as you have a go
and you enjoy what you do
that's all that really matters
when you write a verse or two.
So long live poetry I say
may it always be here
but I've got to end this one
as my muse has run out, oh dear!

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Me

Ask me how I'm doing? 'Very good I say '
My life is good, bad memories I try and keep away
I write as therapy to get me through
All the pain from the past, when I was blue
I write alot of things, about my life
I write about things that brought me strife
I am constantly thinking what to write about
Sometimes I write so I have no need to shout
Sometimes I write straight from my heart
Maybe helping others to get a brand new start
Alot of time depression comes sneaking in
And that's when I get out my paper and pen
I look around me and will always see
That there are those that had it worse than me
I write as a hobby because I enjoy it so
It makes all the bad things have to go
I'm not usually sad by any means
Sometimes insecure, thats from my genes
I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me
My life is good and I'm finally free
So if this explains me a little bit
I think this poem I will submit!

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