Drought in Mind
It is a lake
Dried up
By the drought
Creaked and evaporated
Poetic soul
Lights with thunder
Sky is threatened
Signs, words and metaphors
Conceiving in clouds
Darken the mind
Waken up pen
Searches for
To have a blank paper
To a poetic rain
Stirring up the mind
Ill grown cyclone
Aborts rains
Udaya R. Tennakoon
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Autumn light
Leaves in trees
Shading out
Green color to yellow
I did not see crouching
And become quiet
In the cold of autumn
Opened the door and
Closed again
Began to read
A new chapter
In the way of running
Touched the mind
Lighting up a candle
In a cloud of darkness
Udaya R. Tennakoon
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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A Spirit Of Poetry!
when a spirit of poetry decent,
it came
In a form of dove
When it came
Jesus became first poet under sun
And Almighty God
Was already, first poet over sun?
Using Poetry in poetic foam
Almighty GOD spoke through poetry
And he is a poet himself
Now his poetry is everywhere, and anywhere
We interact with poets
Words are like soil, are everywhere
Brighter that Sun
His poetic lights lead the way
When he likes
He will come
He will be in poetic foam
To Re-arrange poems
Schedule them in a poetic manner
On a judgment, He will met poets first
And secondly meet
Those who haven't written a poem
To Discuss similes, metaphors and personifications
Future of poetry is in heaven
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Almost Poetic
It's almost poetic
The way you speak
It's almost poetic
The way you think
The way you sleep and dream
It's almost poetic
The way I feel for you
It's almost poetic
The way we argue
It's almost poetic
When we say goodbye
Not knowing the next time
We'll see each other
You are the curved line
And I am the dot
That creates the question mark..
And it's almost poetic
If it were not so pathetic.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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A Pen Gone Dry
Barren fields…empty places
Mind devoid of idea and rhyme
Sterile imagination…featureless faces
Webs in memories, frozen in time
Fingers flaccid, mind unwilling
Heavy lies this heart of mine
Creative forces not fulfilling
Empty flask of poetic wine
Dried up source of poetic spring
Used up store of poetic phrases
Emptied purse with untied string
Like worn out shoes and old frayed laces
Time away… might grow the field
Time away… might fill the empty places
Perhaps time will let the emptiness yield
To imagination…and full featured faces
Now...inkwell empty
Tear in eye
Pristine paper
Pen... gone dry...
poem by David Whalen
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The Big Burst
Like a ball sinking in water
Life is flowing
Fighting with
Suppression in it
Slavery mind
Bonded to the master
Keeping a side
The sharpen sword
Of patience
Acting face
With laugh and cry
Glitter of feelings is
Burnt out
Inside the eyes
Like a thunder bolt
A big burst
Inside or out side
Sound of the timer
Reminds
Aborts instantly
Or digests slowly
Predictions are too early
Indicates something daily
The line in between
Birth and death
Existence of silence
To bearable danger is called
Life in no guaranty
Human, animal and world
Yesterday, today and tomorrow
Words, actions and gaps
Meanings to be changed
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Selling a Poets Mind
Devoted to writing the words of poetic inspiration
I offer my mind as soul payment
Some say it’s a madness of strange conception
I claim a quiet misunderstanding
To follow each emotion with such intent
Expressing and expanding beyond reason
That I may flower in bloom a thought
Far beyond its own conception
I whore out my heart to illustrations
To better depict that which I seek to serve
A flow of endless poetic verse
Seemingly I have become detached
From a world I may never have knew
And so in my indifference
Some say I carry a strange madness
Perhaps I do, perhaps I do
For I am devoted to writing the words
Of poetic and beautiful inspiration
If my mind is the fee of creation
Then to poetry I shall cash in
poem by Matthew Holloway
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What They Write About
what they write about
are so poetic, and sometimes i feel
envious, and think all nights to also
write everything poetic like the way
they write about the moon, and stars,
and sun and clouds and hills and
valleys and blooming flowers
about summer,
but honestly speaking, i think every
poetic imagery has only become too
routinary, all metaphors conceived of,
are nothing but simply variations adopted
from one poet to another like an
uncaught plagiarist on the loose,
but somehow, i also like it when i think
that writing is just a hobby, a diversion,
if not a deviation from what
we really want to become.
well, i may be a sour grape for
staying just to be myself,
an imaginary toad in the real
garden untended by its owner.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The heart is the muse of the mind
the heart is the muse of the mind
the heart is the lake the mind can
dive into to find all his poetic words
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Never ever come
Imagination
Grew up
in my soul
To be planted
In a silent moment
Your voice
Like a bomb
Destroyed it at once
It never conceived again
I curse
To my mind
He never understood.
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Oneness
Gusty wind
Quarrels with trees
Torrential rain
Betrays the sky
A sudden thunder ball
Petrifies the world
Vexed couple e
Cuddles in the bed
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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My Mind Is In a Poetic Meter
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
Until it was produce to seduce,
To make aware.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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0026 To live in poetry
So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry
as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess
roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue
living in poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Che
Che
(On behalf 14th June of the birth day of Ernesto Che Guevara)
Instinct wind of injustice
Universal smell of humanity
Mixing colors of identity
Symbolic indelible revolutionary
Constant threat of breath death
Challenging forwarded minimizing the life
Death was defeated by soft of honesty
Left you forever name of majesty
Poetic character and cinematic story
Ended in Bolivia giving exemplary history
Shooting to so called nations of boundary
Fighting to topple the devil of capitalist
Blossomed the red flower spreading dignity
Lit up the candle of revolutionary humanity
Present and future for most of validity
Sacrificed the life for others of identity
Stylized visage waving over the globe
Become a ubiquitous shadow of symbol
Created universe insignia of our time
Start together with promise comrade Che
Udaya R. Tennakoon
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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The unwritten is also there
a blank paper
limitless as space
to fill the knowledge
here and beyond
and words of God
here, the learned plot
the stars, moon and universe
day and night
to the untutored
the blank paper might
as well be carrying space
limitless, enthralling
yet not fathomable
reachable
the blank page
catches the
essence of the mind
the written is there
the unwritten also there
if you could read
between the lines
if you could sense
the universal mind
the waves at sea
afford only a little view
of the power of the wind
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Paper, Only for a Limited Time
Paper, blank and empty
A metaphor only meant for loneliness
White as new born snow
Lets add some words
To make a prophesized poem
Words, only meant for rhetorical use
Clouds that clear, only meant to hide the blue
The living, moving ocean that is our sky
Words, only meant for questioning
What are words but meaning
Clearing clouds, our living pulse bleeds through
Now this blank piece of paper
Has a shadow, and my shadow -combine
Lets make music together
Beautiful, wonderful, majestic music
Lets be music together-
And dance our hearts to something holy
Paper, blank and empty
But easily filled to create art
Art that can change the world
Turn it upside down, or nothing
Paper, blank and empty
But only for a limited time.
poem by Troy Clark
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Life is unavoidable
Watching Television
While surfing internet
Having cooked meal
While drinking wine
Answering to mobile
Seeking through the window
Sitting near the table
Everything is happening
Looking at the mixed slate
Writing something on a paper
At the same time
Six organs are working
Something somewhere else
Out of within these
Never fulfilled
Far beyond the scenery of life
One by one
Switched it off
Time for the space
Space for the time
Cannot realize the difference
Deep burden
A vacuum in mind
Putting alongside
Mind decoys
And went to the bed
Because of the morning is unavoidable
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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The Three a.m. Burst
I was woken in the early hours of this morning
by an overwhelming mental burst.
My mind bombarded me with random words
and compelled me to write poetic verse.
Words were branded upon my thoughts,
like initials on the hide of a steer.
But then strings of words in a jumbled mess
in different colours began to appear.
Like calculated numbers, words fell into place
adding their value to the score.
Another sentence brought another verse,
which begged for even more.
By breakfast time the burst was over,
the words had been laid to rest.
Several pieces of paper had been filled,
and my mind had been freed from stress.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Silence Between
the silence between
words being written and read
seduces the mind to think
thoughts of creation anticipate
the blank canvas of the mind
which mirrors the open soul
calling out to listen
to the sound of pen upon paper
a mind at work
is a beautiful thing
and in writing seductive
words flow into sentence
a verse crafts itself
to be seen, felt
all in the aftermath
of the silence between
words being written
words being read
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Rain Song
I dont think about us much anymore
Frankly, the topic has become a bore
And you dont come up much in my conversation
I dont think about you on vacation
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
I dont think about you when Im sleeping
It doesnt even cross my dreamlike mind
I dont think I see your face through the curtains
Hell, I dont even miss you half the time
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
Im doing fine as long as you stay locked up
Inside a cloud of grey
Rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
But when it rains
When it rains
When it rains
Thats when I remember
Thats when I remember
I remember you
I remember you
Well thats when I remember
The only time I remember
When I remember you
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Poetic
In a way all words are poetic
Doesn't need to be set in any particular way;
for one to stomach it
"It's an injustice I must say
for a mother to never allow her son to play
to disarm belief before it take place
running in an open field of ever green
maneuvering, left and right up and down
with arms spread like flying a plane
a thunderous yell from an obscured mother
child, you have no time to be playing these silly games
make haste
you have studies to attend to"
A poetic line is not just in the mind
it's not necessarily how it sounds or whether or not it rhymes
it's a feeling one gets that sends chills down the spine
simple words of truth and wisdom
is poetic in its own right
Let me take flight
see things from a different point of view
help me take flight
maybe then I can better understand
maybe then I can see
the beauty that you sense
from this hellish land
poem by Kelvin Owusu
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