Related quotes: Sometimes, you feel possessed…, You...

Invincible Companion

Sometimes, you feel possessed…,
You hear voice whisper verses to your ears,
You pick your pen and write.

Sometimes, you want to add your line,
But, the voice will say; ‘No, it is not that way,
Listen very attentively, and, write’.

Sometimes, you will add your own line, and the voice
Will say, “Fine, it is alright”…,

Sometimes, you write before you think,
Sometimes, you omit some lines, then, you will have to wait
Long-temporally to get them back.

Sometimes, you get just the sketch, it becomes
An assignment to complete….

Sometimes, you argue with the voice for days
Before you turn out a piece; you listen, you think,
You write, cancel, and rewrite.

Sometimes,
When you become,
You look at the piece, and, you say, what a beautiful
Verses 1 have written.

Then, you will look back and say,
I never wrote that, I am just a tool in the hands
Of supernatural conspirators,
I am been used to respond to events,
Sometimes…
©2001

poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

I Listen To The Line I Wait To Write

I LISTEN TO THE LINE I WAIT TO WRITE

I listen to the line I wait to write
I hear myself speaking the poem to myself.
What I write
Comes from somewhere else
Inside myself
Perhaps beyond.

I take these words down
Which appear right before
I say them
Which appear
As I say them.

Is what I am doing ‘Poetry’?
Or is it merely my own illusion
Of what I am
And what Poetry is?

God gives and God takes.
Will God make these lines too
What they are not now,
And yet?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Critiques

when they read your poem
and find some fleas there
and they scratch their heads
like saying: this is bad, this is really bad
and they crumple your poem
and throw it in their waste basket

and they junk the best poem you
have written taking you days and days to revise it
like it is a composition
of another nincompoop. a moron, a lesser kind of
the human being
like a bubble, a bumble, a bum, a belle, a keg,
a piece of feces
a ning nang nang nang

well, write another one.do not ever stop writing.

if you find the one that they have thrown in the waste basket
again, by chance,
redeem it,
take it back and iron out what difference have you
with that critique
(who has not written even a poem for his dog)

have patience. and always remember
you did not write the poem for him
you write it for you and your lover
and your loved one,
and another lover and many more lovers
of life and its
ecstacies

till kingdom come
be patient.
be ever patient.
it is you who has

seen the light. not them.

open another door.
go inside where your lovers dwell.
they will kiss you.
they will clap their hands
and drink beer with you.

and it will be dark again,
and you cannot sleep after you make love.
three times on the floor
and there and then
in your nudity
another voice comes inside your ears
asking that you write
about a floating blue butterfly
looking for the opening
of an orange
flower

another poem shall be written
early morning
be glad
the voice is still there

your shrink may tell you to name the voice.
for he thinks you are schizephrenic
to the max

do not tell him.

it is your secret with God.
be glad.write it.now.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hard

I try to write about my feeling
Though for others they don't have meaning
First few lines I can write easily
But those last ending lines are silly

To write it takes a lots of time
Hours to just complete last line
My few poems are not even complete
I try and try but cant, so I omit
And move to next poem
And finally complete
I now know to write it's too tough
So to all, who pour their feeling on paper "hats off"
The end

poem by Sushanta Rokka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)

I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Walk And Lines Come To Me

I WALK AND LINES COME TO ME

I walk and lines come to me-
Then I stop somewhere
And wait for more lines
To complete them-
Then when I am at home
I rewrite them-
Then I listen to them inside me
Again and again,
And when I hear that they are not right
I try to find what is missing for them,
Write and write again
Until reading it to myself
It sounds as it should be.

And when I am done
I am quiet inside,
As if all the Hope in the world
could be reborn
through a poem.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Need Your Love So Bad

Sting's version:
Need some one's hands to help me through the night
Need some one's arms to hold and squeeze me tight
'Cause when the night begins and I'm at an end
That's when I need your love so bad
Need your sweet voice to whisper in my ear
Need your gentle fingertips babe to wipe away my tears
Cause when the lights are low and it's time to go
That's when I need your love so bad
Why don't you give it up
And bring it all back home to me baby
write it on a piece of me paper
So it can be read to me
Tell me that you love me
Cause you're allmost driving me mad
Oh, because I need, I need your love so bad
Need your sweet voice to help me through the night
You don't have to worry baby
Cause you know everything is gonna be all right
When the lights are low and it's time to go
That's when I need your love so bad
I need.... solo
Why don't you give it up
And bring it all back home to me baby
Write it on a piece of me paper
So it can be read to me
Tell me that you love me
Cause you're allmost driving me mad
Oh, because I need, I need your love so bad
Need your sweet lipos to help me through the night
You don't have to worry baby
Cause you know everything is gonna be all right
Listen to my plea bring it to me
Because I need your love so bad

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teach Them How To Fish

you may give them fish
but for how long will you be giving them fish? for how long will you fish yourself?
teach them how to fish and they will also teach others how to fish.
that is wiser that way.

teach them poetry at first. let them read the easiest one to understand. let them
see the beauty of the simplest lines from you and from the poet that you love.

teach them how to write one from the fingers of their hand. love their work and tell them how beautiful are they. there is always beauty in every personalized line. i know.i am telling you. your lines speak what is in your heart and everything
inside our hearts are always innately beautiful

let them read their lines. let them speak the meaning that they are hiding in there. that which you have never seen yourself. let them defend beauty and grace and truth in their own work. beauty and truth and goodness have to be
defended by its creator too.

listen. open your mind. listen attentively.
teacher. listen to them. they are now making their own.
love each work.

teacher listen. now they are teaching you. now you are learning some more.
they have their own wings now.

teacher, see the sky. see them. oh how beautiful are they. they are all flying
and singing. do not wish them to come back to you. let them fly away.let them see the big wide world. let them find the other universes.

they are not yours. they belong to themselves. they are now free.
that is your happiness that even the gods cannot give you.
sit back. and write another poem for another batch. some more. some time.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Next Voice You Hear

Gather your deeds and your possessions,
Whatever certainty youve known,
Forget your heroes,
You dont really need those lasting lessons.
Stand in the open;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
But, alright, they knew how they could hurt you,
And you let them cut you to the bone.
But God forbid,
You allow them to rid you of your virtue!
Forget their laughter;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear will be your own.
Throw down your truth and check your weapons.
Dont look to see if youre alone,
Just stand your ground,
And dont turn around -- whatever happens.
Dont ask directions;
The next voice you hear will be your own.
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear...
The next voice you hear will be your own.

song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do I Write

I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go

I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain

At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down

I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it

I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am

poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Art

Life Art

I want to write you a poem.

One that contains no verses

no words

how long it will be
I cannot tell.

It will be a poem that you can see through
yet it will shade you from the sun

a simple lyric
as complex as a crossword

I want it to be something
that you carry through your day

every day

I don’t know if I can write that poem

Or if indeed that poem can be written at all

So instead I am with you
Of you

And slowly together
we are writing our very own poem

Not on a page
Or in a lost notebook

But in the café
and in the street

At a table

In our bed

Every day we add another line

another image
another verse

and I know that with every word that we write
I want it to be the longest poem

That has ever been written.

poem by Andy Houlihan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tonight I Can Write

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

translated by W.S. Merwin

poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hear

(diana ross/stan scates)
What is this i hear
Falling softly in my ears
Quietly telling me to wipe away my tears
Yesterdays are gone
And love has cleared the way
No matter who you are
You can touch the stars
Life's interactions can make you smile
Just listen to the voice in your heart
The voice is near you, it's never too far
The voice is with you, where ever you are
It's closer than close, calling to your heart
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love
The voice will never leave you
It lives deep down inside
It's calling you, asking you
To open up your heart
All things are achievable
Nothing is impossible
You can reach your highest high
You can make it if you try
Life's interactions can make you smile
Just listen to the voice in your heart
The voice is near you, it's never too far
The voice is with you, where ever you are
It's closer than close, calling to your heart
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love
Follow where it leads you in the dark
The voice will guide your heart
The voice is always near
I hear the voice, i found the voice
From the mountains to the sea
The voice of love is calling me
Where ever you are, the voice is near you
It's never too far, the voice is with you
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love
I hear the voice of love

song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet Fails

THE POET FAILS

The poet fails.
And cannot write.
Empty inside
His voice lost
No rhythm no tone
He tries to hear his way back.
Line by line
Simple words
Tries to hear his own feeling
The mind moves
But his heart does not.

The poet writes his own process of failure
Is this a poem?
Or is it merely the broken prose meditation
Of an old man who has lost his voice?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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