The letter says
Words, lingustic signatures
They are on most days irrelevant
But there are many uses for the letter F
On bad days it fires itself
Small pellets
Resonating sounds
Beats an onaematapeic drum
Bouncing from the buccal of the mouth
On to the Flat Fat surface
Of the tongue
A resonating Gun
Listen,
Can you hear it fall quickly?
How one F ing letter
Cracks the sentence?
The daily drudge of making reason sing
In symmetry with time
Hearing nothing then...
But on a bad day, this is ffffffffffffffffffffff ing
Poetry......
So let its 'ruddy hue' replace the 'blush'
Of P'S and Q's and all that 'Fuss! '
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
It Gets Better
Don’t wanna keep it going
Coz you feel your heart slowing
As the blade edges nearer
And you see everything clearer
Tears that run and hope that sways
Making you this twisted way
Never again will they tease
Coz this is the last time you will bleed
Won’t let them see the pain they cause
You won’t let them see your flaws
Coz now the blade is calling your end
And you know there’s no need to pretend
But please listen to my words letter by letter
You just need to know that it does get better
Don’t listen to their words, listen to your heart
Their words try to confuse and tear you apart
See them when they, so pathetically, fall
Remember the names they used to call
Well look at them now see their lies
And now watch them as they cry
Look it’s your choice now do you help
Or do you rip open their wounds hear them yelp
Are you going to forgive them and live your life?
Or will you cause them to relive your strife
Let me just tell you revenge gets you no where
Just show them that you don’t care
What they think or what they do
Because you simply want to be you
poem by Rebecca Pepper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The mute singer
She cut out her tongue
So she could sing
Those unheard songs
sung
She cut out her tongue
So silently
She could unspeak herself
Free, from prison words
She cut out her tongue
So that her soul could catch the light
And let it run
Through her body transparent
Prism shining out
She cut out her tongue
To free her self
From her self
Completion
Knitted under the skin of silence
Flying unseen
Into unexplored horizons
Without
Mother
Country
Point of
Trace
She cut out her tongue
To see the eyes
Behind the face
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Michael Jackson's tears
Virgin teeth
Of the musical instrument
Ripping the melody
Into sounds
Spiritual vibrations
From the depth of the souls
Self-absorbed
Emotional resonance
In the air
At the touch
Between voices
Secluded
Seemingly fossilized
Coiling into
Our souls
Agony and ecstasy
Like making love
Seduction,
Passion,
Jealousy,
Domination
And possession
Mesmerizing the music
Sounds enclosing
Words
Extreme sadness
And extreme joy
At the same time
Tears becoming cubes of light
Wondering
On their situation of their becoming
The resonating,
Harmonizing effects
Of the music and dance
Resonating with vibrations of air
Sublime change
Of the speed,
Strength,
Rhythm
Warmth flexibly
Words
Becoming alive
Magic human voice
Spreading wide by air
And sparkling like
Countless diamonds
In the sun-light
Time losing all meaning
Apotheosis
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Invitation
Holding with shaking hands a letter from some
Official – high up he says in the Ministry,
I note that I am invited to Birmingham,
There pedagogues to address for a decent fee.
'We like to meet,' he goes on, 'men eminent
In the field of letters each year,' and that's well put,
Though I find his words not wholly relevant
To this red-eyed fellow whose mouth tastes rank as soot.
No doubt what he's thinking of is poetry
When 'Thomas Blackburn' he writes, and not the fuss
A life makes when it has no symmetry,
Though the term 'a poet' being mainly posthumous,
Since I'm no stiff, is inappropriate.
What I can confirm is the struggle that never lets up
Between the horses of Plato beneath my yoke,
One after Light, and for Hell not giving a rap,
The other only keen on infernal smoke.
And poems...? From time to time they commemorate
Some particularly dirty battle between these two;
I put the letter down – what's the right note?
'Dear Sir,' I type, 'how nice to speak to you!'
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
poem by Thomas Blackburn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Of These Days
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
And Im gonna try
And thank them all for the good times together.
Though so apart weve grown.
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
And Im gonna thank,
That old country fiddler
And all those rough boys
Who play that rock n roll
I never tried to burn any bridges
Though I know I let some good things go.
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
From down in l.a.
All the way to nashville,
From new york city
To my canadian prairie home
My friends are scattered
Like leaves from an old maple.
Some are weak, some are strong.
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Confetti In The Wind
He wrote a letter in his mind
To answer one a maid had sent;
He sought the fitting word to find,
As on by hill and rill he went.
By bluebell wood and hawthorn lane,
The cadence sweet and silken phrase
He incubated in his brain
For days and days.
He wrote his letter on a page
Of paper with a satin grain;
It did not ring, so in a rage
He tore it up and tried again.
Time after time he drafted it;
He polished it all through the night;
He tuned and pruned till bit by bit
He got it right.
He took his letter to the post,
Yet long he held it in his hand.
Strangely his mood had veered, almost
Reversed,--he could not understand.
The girl was vague, the words were vain;
April romance had come to grief . . .
He tore his letter up again,--
Oh blest relief!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Ace
Give me a ten and I'll be your friend
Give me a nine and I won't decline
Keep it at eight and you'll still be a mate
Well a seven's not heaven but i'll let it be
If it's a six I may write you a letter
Choosing 'choice words..like
It will get better
If it's a five well I'm a Bee Gee
HA HA HA HA, STAYIN ALIVE
Give me a four and I may show you the door
A three and a two is better than one
And BEING NUMBER ONE!
Is seldom done.
So reversing the flow
I'll call it an Ace
Not for being too slow
But for keeping my place
At the top of the grade
Number 1 is seldom achieved
And can't be undone
So bravo To ten or a one
Whatever the outcome
I've won! !
yvette smith july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poetry
This poetry is not poetry
This poetry is not poetry as poetry goes
But is as silent as a man in a rollo neck jumper
Almost reading yesterdays news
This poetry is not poetry
As far as poetry goes
It is neither verse
Or poesy prose
This is a debunking of 'The poetry'
Everyone knows
And so they are not amused
This poetry is not poetry
So why poetry?
If not
Prose?
It is as idle as a man picking his nose
Pondering a wonderful muse
Yet some, are not amused
Infact if this poetry is Not poetry
What right have I to use, the word poetry?
It is a lovely panacea for expressing and de stressing
The individual's points of view
And yet if not poetry
Who says Not poetry
And who is qualified to choose?
Give me a pocket full of roses
Or a misty morning cloud
Are you amused?
clammy wynette aka Yvette m smith
march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Resonating Forces
Resonating forces resound within my frame.
I hear them. I feel them right inside my brain.
They shake me.
They wake me.
They move me to and fro.
They thrill me.
They chill me.
They groove me as I grow.
These forces are not something that have me in control.
They've been there forever.
They've helped me with my goal.
They inspire me.
They fire me.
They keep my life aglow.
They calm me.
They soothe me.
They help my ebb and flow.
Resonating forces, I find you make my way.
I need them. I heed them on every single day.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So This Is It?
So this is it
This is the dark poem that passes for
A suicide note
This is it
The forbidden wishes of long vanquished woes
Rising to the surface
The shady bedsit affair
With an old fold down divan
The lonely poker face
The maurading consumer
Of daily miseries
So this is it
The dark coated obsessiv e
With the nicotine rings on the finger
The shades of muffled diassapointments
The lonely walker in a sunny afternoon haze
So this is it
The daze upon days upon daze
The transcript of a one man show
A spectacle of rock n roll
And soul to soul
Curtain dark discontents
Radio voices
Roll calls
Of who's who
Of famous dead
singers and poets and writers and composers and
did you here about the old lady at number 42?
Her remains were found one hot summer
Her cat had gone unfed for days
No one knew her name
When she had died
so is that it?
THE END
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bad Poem Daze
Sleep walking towards
Another narcoleptic day
Given free change
For free coffee
To stay awake
On time for life
But out of step
On time for life
But out of step
The rhythm
Is not
A slow shoe shuffle
The rhythm is not
A saturday of amnesiac dreamers
I am sure this RTHYMN
looks better
Badly spelt
For we all have them
These 'bad poetry days
Of imagining in writing
There is rythnm
There is rythmn
There is rhythm
There is rhythm
In what we write?
But somedays
Our feet are out of time
There is a bright incompletion
A hope at failure
A 'version of getting it right'
And sleep walkers
Always wake up in the end
In another room
Another place
Without a map
Colliding with reason
Free from behaving as 'they should! '
Blame it on the dream
The hypnogagic dispair
Of being somewhere
Of being somebody else
This time is not
a 'designated bad poetry day'
Bad poetry is in a strange way
The bad medicine
making us better
Telling us...........it's okay NOT to try harder
The verbs fallen off the end of the sentence
The noun is 'open to suggestion re-invention
The adjective is cliched out of all possible exstinction
Who can know the trees better, than Wordsworth?
The lark more melodious than Keats?
A canon is not just for firing lose ammunition
Off a tongue, into the back of beyond
It is 'a storehouse for lovely things'
But bad poetry
Is the bled heart
The tramped out
Trumped up hollow of a broken dance
A chord fallen
From a perfect descant
It is the word that unwittingly breaks free
Bruises ugly from the beautiful
It is the unrelenting pattern
Beneath the rain
Always falling down
Beating its own rythmn
Out of time
Stepless
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thought & Feelings
thought & feelings
r energy
we r energy
ripples of vibration
resonating
harmony happiness
heartfelt echoes
in mirror minds
think multitudes
of kind
beautiful thoughts
pursue wonderful dreams
be still
feel the warmth
of harmonic love
holding comforting u
listen 2 heartbeats
in rhythm
as resonating
lives souls
destinies
seek ever
2 merge as one...
the beauty
of your future success
is already written
in the unique
complexities
of your caring
and sincere soul
set sail
therefore
with boldness
throughout
space
time
eterni ty
throughout
the far
reaches
of hallowed
time
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Music of Poetry!
Grief stricken violin music,
Boasting trumpet music,
Dance inducing guitar music,
Thrilling beats of drum music,
All these and more as words
Making rhythm of poetry
Make all dance to sing songs
Depicting message of poetry
To be amused and enlightened!
Let us all sing and dance as to
The music of heart inspired
By the poetic words forever!
Music, song, dance and poetry
Amuse all with information fine!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No intention
These words were never meant
The word poetic
Has found itself unpoetic
Never intended for music
Or for argument
There is no epic, or sonnet
Of rivulet
Neither is there purple tinted skies
Or timpanic symphony
'unpoetically'
Unwritten
Unspoken
Neither hidden
Nor seen
There are days full of graves
Tombstones for faces
Clouds full of dreams
Substance?
My heart
These rain spun stones
These crystals of unfathomable light
Night streets splintered with tears
Where have yougone my love?
Where have you gone my love?
Refusing refuge and solace
Some days lye empty
Half woken from their sleep
Refusing the poetry
The invevitable singing
That follows falling down
And spinning wheels of madness
The desire for doing nothing
Being almost spent
yvette m smith feb 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The red-letter days, now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.
quote by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Echoes
They often come in sweet ways
As powerful as when she prays.
Through melodious sounds resonating
And words of praise wisely spoken
She treasures them - a friendly token.
They will always arrive here
Conveying that peace so dear!
They vividly enhance the mind
Challenging her daily tasks
For years ahead we hope it lasts.
(April 2010)
poem by Maria C. Costa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Big Lie Small World
Words and music by sting
I sat down and wrote this letter
Telling you that I felt better
Since youve gone and I was free
Im so happy
I have so little time to spare now
Im wanted almost everywhere now
I make out like casanova
Friends are always coming over
I signed my name as if I meant it
And sealed it with a kiss and sent it
The letter headed through my mood
Happy in my solitude
But halfway home I changed my tune
And when I saw my lonely room
The mirror caught my eye
When I sat down, I cried
Big lie, small world
It was a big lie, small world
I had to intercept that letter
Telling you that I was better
I raced to catch the postmans van
He was leaving as I ran
I missed the bus, I missed the train
I end up walking in the rain
Big dog chased me down the street
Hadnt had a bite to eat
Feeling sorry for myself
And wishing I was someone else
I walked across the city
Because I couldnt stand your pity
Big lie, small world
It was a big lie, small world
The place you live looks opulent
And obviously a higher rent
Than a cozy little room
I had this sense of doom
Your landlord says youre out of town
But your new boyfriends always around
The hour was getting late
So I sit down and wait
Heres the postman with my letter
Coming down the path he better
Give that thing to me
I have to make him see
Begging doesnt do the trick
He thinks that Im a lunatic
But then who comes upon the scene
But your new boyfriend, mr. clean
I hit the postman, hit your lover
Grabbed the letter, ran for cover
The police arrived in time for tea
They said theyd like to question me
But I can only curse my fate
I had to face the magistrate
It hasnt been the best of days
Id like to fly away
Big lie, small world
Big lie, small world
It was a big lie, small world
Big lie, small world
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poor
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look out from the crowd
Lost in their 'man made prison'
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look up to the proud
Who looks back with derision
And who can tell the poor that God is with them?
He who paints angel wings on ragged backs?
Makes hungry mouths sing for their supper
He who nothing lacks?
Who poorer still can say God is with us?
When homeless turn away from too much fuss
But God is with them
Is he with us?
And poorer still in having more
But never having too much
Who can say then God is with us?
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Mr. Postman
( stop )
Oh yes, wait a minute
Mister postman
( wait )
Wait mister postman
(*) please mister postman look and see
( oh yeah )
If there's a letter in your bag for me
( please, please, mister postman )
Why's it takin' such a long time
( oh yeah )
For me to hear from that boy of mine
There must be
Some word today
From my boyfriend
So far away
Please mister postman
Look and see
If there's a letter
A letter for me
I've been standin' here
Waitin' mister postman
So patiently
For just a card
Or just a letter
Sayin' he's returning'
Home to me
Repeat (*)
So many days
You passed me by
See the tears
Standin' in my eyes
You didn't stop
To make me feel better
By leavin' me
A card or a letter
Repeat (*)
( why don't you check it and see one more time
For me you gotta )
Wait a minute, wait a minute...
( mister postman )
Mister postman look and see
( c'mon deliver the letter, the sooner, the better )
Mister postman
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Four-letter Word
His name is Gus
and boy can he cuss.
He knows every four-letter word.
When he gets mad
just like his dad
profanities are all he ever heard.
His voice gets real loud
in the midst of a crowd
and each time it occurred
People would stare
and he didn't even care.
His sensitivity is not even stirred.
Until one day
he hears his son say
four-letter words he has heard.
It shocks him yo hear
these words very clear
from a 4-year old which is absurd.
And so on this day
he vows never to say
another four-letter word.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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