Dream Poem
this poem is a dream
you wish to escape
if only you would awake
you could forget this poem
words pursue you through
the white pages of this dream
the voices you hear have
been spoken by this poem
people reach out, they live
here, they dream of you
now you smile, eager to dream
on, but the poem is fa d i n g
poem by Bruce Deitrick Price
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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been
THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN
The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem The Poem And The Poem Again
THE POEM‘ THE POEM AND THE POEM AGAIN’
‘The poem the poem and the poem again’
Isn’t there any life without poetry?
Why is it always ‘The poem the poem the poem’?
Let it be some other dream
Or some other small facet of our endless realities
Why always ‘The poem the poem the poem? ’
The poet who lives and dies for the poem
Is only one kind of poet
And perhaps not even a good one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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He Walks Without A Poem
HE WALKS WITHOUT A POEM
He walks without a poem
There is no poem in his mind
No poem in his heart.
But the idea of a poem
The dream of a poem
The daily task of a poem
The justification given by a poem-
He stops and writes these words down.
All around him
the morning light sings songs
of the things
of this world.
A poem perhaps?
Perhaps not?
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Thought To Begin The Day With A Poem
I THOUGHT TO BEGIN THE DAY WITH A POEM
I thought to begin the day with a poem
But inside myself I hear only my own slow emptiness
Word by word I try to hear
And there is some small motion now
But still
A real poem
A poem of beauty
A poem of light
A poem of love
A poem that makes the dreamer long to dream-
And the lover long to love-
A poem that moves-
Well it is very very dark outside
And the world straining to give
Small rain to a dry land
Seems to say,
‘There may be a poem today
But it is not the poem you dream
Not the poem others will love
As you have loved
True poetry.’
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by David Carter
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by Aisha Patterson
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I Don't Have A Dream Today
I DON’T HAVE A DREAM TODAY
I don’t have a dream today
Is a Poem a dream anymore?
One poem? ten poems?
Even a real poem?
Without a dream
The person can’t live
What is my dream now?
Where am I now?
So I write and write
As I have all my life
And it is so small a part
Of everything that is
Even in my own life-
I don’t have a dream today
And yet writing these lines
Somehow makes me begin to feel
A bit better.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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0127 A Poem About Gertrude Stein
a poem slept
the poem slept
nobody knew it slept
it did not know itself that it slept
it slept like a baby
and that was refreshing
it refreshed itself before it was born
as babies do
it did not then know itself that it slept
but when it woke up it knew that it had slept
while it slept this poem had a dream
it was a good dream
it did not know that it was a dream
it dreamed itself awake
but when it woke up it remembered
that it had had a dream
it remembered that it was a dream
when it was awake
when it woke up
it remembered itself
and dressed appropriately
and told itself to friends and strangers
it told itself the same way to friends and strangers
that was its duty because it was
it did not mind whether they were friends or strangers
because it was a poem
I know
I know this
I know this because
I know this because there is a because
I know this because the poem told me
I know this because the poem told me it had a name
A poem about Gertrude Stein
poem by Michael Shepherd
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This Poem Is Not A Dream
THIS POEM IS NOT A DREAM
This poem is not a dream
It comes from where so many true poems come
From the other side of the mind
When it does not know peace -
From the waking desire
The hunger that is not satisfied
The lonely life and the lonely mind-
It comes from the search for love
And the love itself – the joy of love-
And from the memory of what we most deeply know when we are ourselves in love of another-
This poem is not a dream-
It comes from the waking world and the waking words-
The hard truths the bitter small things
The disappointments and rejections
The endless small humiliations which Time and Chance make of us all-
This poem comes from where we are most human
With the pain of those closest to us-
And our longing to save them and be loved forever by them-
The dream is not the poem
Life in its all its endless difficulties is the poem
And this poem too
Does not say half of all the hurt I have suffered in this one small day alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This is a poem....
This isn't a poem of one direction,
This is a poem about perfection.
This isn't a poem about who won the election,
This is a poem about correction.
This isn't a poem of getting it right,
This is a poem of standing up to fight.
This isn't a poem of being lost like a kite,
This is a poem about trying to find the light.
This isn't a poem of running tears,
This is a poem about chasing your fears.
This isn't a poem of love and hate,
This is a poem of destiny and fate.
This isn't a poem of the end,
This is a poem of a heart unable to mend.
This isn't a poem of cruilty and pain,
This is a poem of a thng i need to gain.
This isn't a poem of shame,
This is a poem of fame.
Thsi isn't a poem of the life i let loose,
THIS IS A POEM OF THE TRUTH.
poem by Tammie LilAimo
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Short Poem
short poem to keep you sweet
a poem of dispair
a poem of pulling out my hair
a poem of thats not right
a poem thats finished now
as im all done in
off i go
to sleep
to dream.
poem by Graham Russell
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Again and again
Again and again
Over and over again
I dream and dream
I know this life is a dream
In dream I compose poem
In poem I write
And write and cross
The boundaries of time
Place people and culture
And religion and ocean
And earth and sky
And become shy
To tell you goodbye.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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I Escape Again Into A Poem
I escape again into a poem
I hide here
I forget the practical duties and questions
I forget the meaninglessness of it all
I escape into a poem
And in the small dream of writing
I am whole and at peace-
And without a question
Except for the poem itself-
Here I am again running away today
While the days themselves are running out -
Until the day comes
When nothing more need be done
And no poetry needed either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poem After Poem After Poem
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
POEM AFTER POEM AFTER POEM
Poem after poem after poem
But a poem is not the way out.
Money is depleting
Soon I’ll be without.
How will I manage to live then
What will become of us all?
To write a poem is to do nothing
When the writing is on the wall.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Especially For You
I write this poem,
Especially for you.
Hope you like it too.
I love this poem,
Hope you love it too,
Especially for you.
I love you so much that,
I Dream of you every night,
Especially be with you.
I write this poem,
Especially for you,
To remember your loving smile.
Give me your smile,
Give me your cheerful face,
Give me your Laughter.
Only this poem can,
Take your heart away.
Especially made for you.
I say this poem,
Especially designed for you,
In remembrance of our True friendship.
In this moment of life,
I share this poem
Especially with you.
In this precious memory,
I want you to know that,
I forever love you.
To say the right words,
At the right time;
Especially for you, is hard.
More than any right words,
I composed this poem,
Especially for you,
So that the world may know that
I fall in Love with you again.
Especially with you.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The Poem About The Poem
The poem about the poem
And what is a poem?
And what is a poet?
And will the poem
Save me?
Help you?
And is writing the poem
The best I can do?
Or is it only words and more words?
Is the poem about the poem
For the poet only?
Or for each one reading and speaking and hearing it?
The poem about the poem
On this sunny spring Jerusalem morning
Peace and happiness in me -
The poem about the poem
For now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Only Poem Is The Poem/ At The Moment Of Its Writing
THE ONLY POEM IS THE POEM
The only poem is the poem
At the moment of its writing
The poem being lived now
The poem I am trying to make
The poem of these lines.
The only poem now is this one-
And this poem is so small and so self- reflexive
That it is not much of a poem at all.
The only poem is not much of a poem at all
This one
And me now? .
But what about everything else I have not done?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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