Chairil Anwar
rebellious
smart
independent
unflowerful
generation 45
honest
died young
brave
wound, pain
protest
expression
Beethoven of poetry
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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Related quotes
Read my poetry
Read my poetry
My poetry is enough
My poetry is independent
My poetry creates itself.
Read my poetry
My poetry is not mine
Everything belongs to my poetry
My poetry creats itself.
Read my poetry
My poetry is psyche and
Alchemy in me
My poetry is independent of me.
Read my poetry
It agony its ecstasy
Its inspiration
Everything belongs to
My predecessors-poet
Read my poetry
Read my poetry.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Poetry From The Past
Poetry is fascination
throughout every generation
poetry is education.
Meaningful literature
of fable and myth
written by poets from history.
Such a pleasing gift in the
eighteenth Century with
romantic music and mystery.
And oh what magic the words
now impart ~ to a pretty
young maid, tender of heart.
Poetry is fascination
throughout every generation
poetry is education.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Independent
she smart
she's beautiful
but i can have her
Miss Independent
her skin is pretty
she have her own job
17 year old Miss Independent
walk so good
smile look so pretty
Miss Independent
and I ment it
I need this independent girl
should i ask her to be mine
I'm thinking
I can't no I need to stop
Independent Girl
poem by Latrice Reed
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Melancholy Of Jason Kleander, Poet In Kommagini, A.D. 595
The aging of my body and my beauty
is a wound from a merciless knife.
I’m not resigned to it at all.
I turn to you, Art of Poetry,
because you have a kind of knowledge about drugs:
attempts to numb the pain, in Imagination and Language.
It is wound from a merciless knife.
Bring your drugs, Art of Poetry—
they numb the wound at least for a little while.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Young People of this World
You are the generation who will take care of tomorrow
Learn as much as you can, open your mind, don't stay hollow.
The more wisdom you pick up you will be more logical,
Which is the most important if you wish to be a survival.
In the meantime learn to be kind and polite,
Love your parents as they are, you are their part.
Until you are at home follow their direction,
Respect them always, they are your protection.
Eventually you will go on your own way,
Do not oppose anything, just be flexible every day.
Why would you destroy yourself with rebelling, anger or hatred?
You get it back many fold from life, which is not needed.
So, young generation, you wonderful people,
Be smart, kind, tolerant, honest and gentle,
Know that the future will be in your hand,
Behave according to became grand.
But do not fake it!
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only The Young
Another night in any town
You can hear the thunder of their cry
Ahead of their time
They wonder why
In the shadows of a golden age
A generation waits for dawn
Brave carry on
Bold and the strong
Only the young can say
Theyre free to fly away
Sharing the same desires
Burnin like wildfire
Theyre seein through the promises
And all the lies they dare to tell
Is it heaven or hell?
They know very well
(chorus twice)
Only the young can say
Only the young can say
Only the young can say
Only the young can say
Only the young can say
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Generation
Another day no peace in sight
A solution, far away
The military won the war
Certainly not for you and me
How many generations will it take
To cut the stream of blood
I hear voices that spin inside my head
It's your voice that counts so much
Here comes the young,
the new generation
You are the only ones
You are the only ones who can make a change
The world looks kind of small from way up there
Through the window of our time
The shuttle broke into a million pieces
In the bluest sky
The world is spinning 'round way too fast
And New York City went all dark
There's a message that goes out tonight
From the bottom of my heart
Here comes the young, the new generation
You are the only ones
You are the only ones who can make a change
Here comes the young, the new generation
You are the only ones
You are the only ones who can make a change
Always hold on to your dreams
Because the world is not the same
The day your hope will die
Just carry on for you and me
'Cause it's the spark inside that flame
That gives your visions life
Here comes the young, the new generation
You are the only ones
You are the only ones who can make a change
Here comes the young, the new generation
You are the only ones
You are the only ones who can make a change
We are we are the new generation
We are the only ones
We are the only ones who can make a change
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Smart Young People
They scare alot.
Those smart young people.
Who seem to know more than they should,
When others do not.
They scare alot.
Those smart young people.
And instead of listening to them,
To get the knowledge that they've got...
We think their heads are much too hot.
And we,
Wish to believe that all children...
Learn from us our doings,
With a wish we approved.
And we,
Can not perceive that our children...
Have those messages for us,
Because that haven't lived a life...
That proves they know what it is like,
To...
Sacrifice and suffer.
And live a life that we had.
Feeling as if suckers.
And live a life that we had,
Trying to be tougher.
Wanting them to be the best!
But to us they just protest.
They scare alot.
Those smart young people.
Who seem to know more than they should,
When others do not.
And we,
Can not perceive that our children...
Have those messages for us,
Because that haven't lived a life...
That proves they know what it is like,
To...
Sacrifice and suffer.
And live a life that we had.
Feeling as if suckers.
And live a life that we had,
Trying to be tougher.
Wanting them to be the best!
But to us they just protest.
They hear from us what we've been through,
But they're not here to do that too!
Sacrifice and suffer.
And live a life that we had.
Feeling as if suckers.
And live a life that we had,
Trying to be tougher.
Wanting them to be the best!
But to us they just protest.
Wanting not to hear that mess,
Repeated.
Repeated.
Sacrifice and suffer.
And live a life that we had.
Feeling as if suckers.
And live a life that we had,
Trying to be tougher.
Wanting them to be the best!
But to us they just protest.
And...
That reason is,
Understood.
Yes...
The reason is,
Understood.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
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It Is Only The Poetry
IT IS ONLY THE POETRY
It is only the poetry
Through which the deepest inner feeling
Can say itself
Only it allows expression to
What mind and heart most painfully mean
It is only the poetry
Which is the soul in essence
And so
Without the poetry-
Speechless, lost
I cannot breathe and be free.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Elegy
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died
The darkest way, and did not turn away,
A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride
On that darkest day, Oh, forever may
He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed
Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow
Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost
Or still all the numberless days of his death, though
Above all he longed for his mother's breast
Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground
The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed.
Let him find no rest but be fathered and found,
I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed,
In the muted house, one minute before
Noon, and night, and light. the rivers of the dead
Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw
Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea.
(An old tormented man three-quarters blind,
I am not too proud to cry that He and he
Will never never go out of my mind.
All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain,
Being innocent, he dreaded that he died
Hating his God, but what he was was plain:
An old kind man brave in his burning pride.
The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned.
Even as a baby he had never cried;
Nor did he now, save to his secret wound.
Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide.
Here among the liught of the lording sky
An old man is with me where I go
Walking in the meadows of his son's eye
On whom a world of ills came down like snow.
He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres'
Last sound, the world going out without a breath:
Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears,
And caught between two nights, blindness and death.
O deepest wound of all that he should die
On that darkest day. oh, he could hide
The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
Until I die he will not leave my side.)
poem by Dylan Thomas
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Poetry is nature
Poetry is nature,
Poetry is revelation,
Poetry is human,
Poetry is divine.
Unveiling the countrified encounters,
the evolution of the cockroach
and the mythical cactus on the arid
the front and the end;
breaking open the activities
into nature.
The words in the ink
linking present and past
to forecast the prerequisite future.
The revealed talks of the heartbeats
and restoration of tensed souls.
Poetry is nature,
Poetry is expression,
Poetry is in man,
Poetry is divine.
poem by Oyehan Opeyemi Akinkunmi
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Poo Secrets
Poo Secrets
Are never kept..) It(s..adored
...) it(s..sharing....) it(...with..you
) it(s my deepest darkest fears you out found here.
If I am so smart why does It rant? you
are feeling this.
If I am so smart how did I end up inside
those cold, fast thighs?
I was smart enough to dodge, your slap.
Then the abuse really started....
I kept going back for more...
her verbals became more than Pascals.
My body became more, than her work of art.
It just, was not very smart enough, it became...
Her very own, personal....toy to hurt to maim..
just for joy..as it became dumber she became
smarter in waves...smarter so smart, she
could even stick knives in...it, > it
poem by Is It Poetry
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Another Young Soldier
Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.
Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.
Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.
Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poetic Instuition
Poetry is an innate expression,
a candid personal passion.
Poetry is an intrinsic inspiration,
literally excites a stimulastion.
Poetry lit up condition
of sentimental emotion.
Poetry enthuses varied notions
that raise dramatic explanations.
Poetry magnifies innate imaginations
and stimulates artistic reactions.
Indeed, poetry is all in one intuition,
a picturesque creation of human interactions!
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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In South America, I heard the 8th Symphony of Beethoven. And the young conductor thought, Beethoven must be heroic. But this is piece which shouldn't be heroic. And this was such a misunderstanding, such a deep misunderstanding.
quote by Kurt Masur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pulse as an active means of expression, Stravinsky and Beethoven are the two masters of that.
quote by Esa-Pekka Salonen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Believe(From The 60's)
Even though I'm so young.
I still feel so ancient.
Like I was meant to be born in 60's
I believe in honest hard work.
I believe in chivalry.
I believe in taking ten paces before before you kill someone.
Yes I use modern technology.
But so does grama.
Some things will not change no matter the gadgets.
How the game is played is still the same.
Only the technique has changed.
Even though I'm so young.
I still feel so ancient.
Like I was meant to be born in 60's
I believe in the right protest.
I believe less government is progress.
I believe we must protect all our freedoms.
No matter if theirs a gun in my face or not.
You will not silence my speech.
You will not rob me or my family.
No matter who you are.
I never encourage violence accept to defend oneself.
No matter the impeding army.
Or the repercussions of such actions.
It has never been about self sanctification with me.
Protect those you love.
Let only god be the one to judge.
Even though I'm so young.
I still feel so ancient.
Like I was meant to be born in 60's
I believe in honest hard work.
I believe in chivalry.
I believe in taking ten paces before before you kill someone.
Yes I use modern technology.
But so does grama.
Some things will not change no matter the gadgets.
How the game is played is still the same.
Only the technique has changed.
Even though I'm so young.
I still feel so ancient.
Like I was meant to be born in 60's
I believe in the right protest.
I believe less government is progress.
I believe we must protect all our freedoms.
The cosmos is spinning like never before.
In a tell tale destiny I will explore.
For it's my right as a pursuit of happiness.
Let me have my inner peace.
Let me have my warm place to sleep.
Let me afford not to forever starve.
Stop paying farmers off.
No more crops this year.
They have to be destroyed.
Light the fire and just watch them burn.
The thoughts of this bring a sickness to the pit of my stomach.
Even though I'm so young.
I still feel so ancient.
Like I was meant to be born in 60's
I believe in honest hard work.
I believe in chivalry.
I believe in taking ten paces before before you kill someone.
Yes I use modern technology.
But so does grama.
Some things will not change no matter the gadgets.
How the game is played is still the same.
Only the technique has changed.
Even though I'm so young.
I still feel so ancient.
Like I was meant to be born in 60's
I believe in the right protest.
I believe less government is progress.
I believe we must protect all our freedoms.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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We Need Fear For Survival
Of valour on the battlefield and in other ways we hear
But only the most foolhardy one would never know of fear
We need fear for survival may they rest in peace the brave
Their reward for their bravery the cold and darkness of the grave.
We need fear for survival the very brave are dead
And little use to them 'twould seem if good things of them are said
We need a bit of fear in us in order to stay alive
Few of the brave to a ripe old age have been known to survive.
I'd rather live to a ripe old age than have died young and brave
We need a bit of fear in us for to keep cheating the grave
Why would you even wish to die though your better days are long gone
Our will to live is always strong and it keeps us keeping on.
The fear of death is a healthy fear the brave seem to die young
Though of no use to the deceased if their praises are sung
In their graves they do never hear the bugler for them play
They lay in peace forever more that's life as some might say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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