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In The Midst Of My Sins

i wanted a poem
like some book
taken down and
dusted off opened
up like torn pages
from some script
“it should have
been written” like
this', I wanted a
poem with thick lips
big eyes and a
dove tattoo, early
words rising from
a throaty voice, two
drinks in, I wanted
a poem like this, hands
twisted sweaty
with praying, eyes
tight shut from
the light, I wanted
a poem that said
“it’s all been done, you’re
just sinkin ships son”
photographs, floating dead
in bathrooms, bedrooms
my sins pulling at
my coattails, i
wanted
a poem.

poem by Ben Paynter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted To Start The Day With A Poem

I wanted to start the day with a poem
I heard instead a blessing for washing my hands
I wanted to start the day with a poem
“My eyes are lifted to the hills
From whence cometh my help”
I wanted to start the day with a poem
“Never did sun more beautifully steep in its first splendor
Valley rock or hill”
I wanted to start the day with a poem-
So I stopped and listened again
And waited to hear myself from inside
While my eyes were enraptured by the everyday light of things
I wanted to start the day with a poem
And the day started without me
And the poem said itself quietly
And waited while I happily wrote it down.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Tired Of Being Written Of Itself

THE POEM TIRED OF BEING WRITTEN OF ITSELF

The poem tired of being written of itself
It wanted other worlds and more distant beauty
It wanted the inspiration that ordinary life gives
It wanted too a language beyond what simple words could mean
But the poem could not be more than it was
It fell back upon itself
It was lost in its own lonely being
The poem stayed forever a poem about itself
And when no one read it
The poem had only itself to blame.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem In The Early Morning-Even Before The Darkness Had Gone

I WANTED A POEM IN THE EARLY MORNING

I wanted a poem in the early morning
Even before the darkness had gone-
I wanted to hear words
That meant music
That said I was alive and could write-
I wanted a poem in the early morning
So that I could be justified
For the rest of the day-
Time and again I have written that poem
I write it now -
How wonderful when it flows as if it is real
I may never know that it is
But in writing it, thank God, I feel alive and blessed

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem / Which Would Take Me Beyond Myself

I wanted a poem
Which would take me beyond myself
Which would make me feel the Beauty
Of this world
In a new way.

I wanted a poem
Whose music really was of the stars
A poem of the kind
That makes you feel alive
And know what you want
To live for in this world.

I wanted a poem
I would love and believe in
Always
And whenever I walked
Would be with me
To say over and over again.

I wanted you
But you did not want
Me.
The poem is someone else’s
And I am alone with my
Words.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted To Write The Most Beautiful Poem

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one beyond any music I had known-
The one which would reveal the changes
in yellows and greens
spring sunlight whispered to the trees

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
The one which would tell the stories of all those I have loved and cared for-
I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
As a poem of Kindness-

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem
Of sublime and overpowering distance
Of stars when stars were dreams -

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem-

But I knew many other poems already written
Would always be far more beautiful than mine-

So I tried to write the most beautiful poem I could-

But the light outside
The world and its colors
The beauties we see and hear everyday
Said to me again and again,

'Walk more humbly with your God and do Justice and love Mercy also'.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Was Destroyed By Its Own Words

The poem was destroyed by its own words
And could not be written-

The words were not good enough
The words were not exact enough -

The poem nonetheless wanted to be
It waited in longing for other words-

Other words came
But they were not the poem either-

The poem it appeared
Was never to be -

The poem disappeared
Before it could be written

That poem forever is not
And in its place only these lines

Barely a poem at all.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem For The Morning

I wanted a poem for the morning
A poem to begin the day with-
A poem which would give my life hope -
I wanted a poem
Which would say I am alive
A good poem a kind poem
A poem which would make others a bit more happy-
And as so often
I wrote a poem
And left it as a question for the longer daylight and
the longer night which also is our life
beyond the morning-

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A love poem to a poem

for there’s what you planned to write about,
and what you find yourself
writing about; perhaps
find yourself, while writing about..

and there’s the poem itself; did you
consult it about what
its plans were? and when
it’s got itself written,
gone where it wanted to,
said what it wanted to say,
become what it wanted to become,
do you really know
what it’s finally and really about?

is it telling you more about
you than you knew yourself?
is the poem writing you?

did we, as with the unicorn,
feel the unspoken need for it,
and it became?

in some other world,
did two grains of dust change places?
did a new sort of light
shine on a new sort of place
in some new sort of time?

poems are like cats:
we think we own them;
they allow us certain rights,
but they own us.

this is a love poem
to a poem

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted My Poem To Be A Real Poem

I WANTED MY POEM TO BE A REAL POEM

I wanted my poem to be a real poem-
I have read and studied and memorized
So many real poems-
I wanted my poem to be one of them
Which others would read and feel and memorize
And make their own –

We want and we want and we want
And who are we with all our wanting?
Who am I with all my wanting?
One more dreamer
One more ambitious person
One more lover of poems
One more writer of poems
One more wanter of real poems
Who writes this poem
For others
who dream like me
of writing real poems.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Before Shabbat

The poem before Shabbat
Wanted to be a happy one-

It wanted to be one in which all preparations made
And the mind able to rest and forget-

The poem before Shabbat
Wanted to leave the world of the everyday behind
And move to another realm
Of Sanctity and Peace-

The poem before Shabbat
Wanted to be on the verge
Of a new soul a new world
Of Joy and Peace-
Of Shabbat.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wanted; a poem

Wanted; a poem
Poem overcome
Trust deficit
Poem provide
Life breath
Poem guiding star
Poem not far
Poem fire
Destroy life's
Dark car.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted To Write The One Poem Everyone Would Remember

I wanted to write the one poem everyone would remember
Though I knew it had already been written many times by others-
I wanted to write the one poem
Which long after I was dead
Would say to me when I could not hear
‘You will live forever as Literature’

I knew I probably would not write that poem -
This is certainly not it -
I knew ‘Trying’ too is not enough
And yet

Here I am with my desires and my life
And as my father said the world is going by
And who am I to ever hope
To catch up with it?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wanted A Poem Greater Than The One I Had

I WANTED A POEM GREATER THAN THE ONE I HAD

I wanted a poem greater than the one I had
I tried again and again to write it-
I could only write the poem I am
It was not all I wanted it to be-
It is here now in these lines
Simple and clear and superficial and me.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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