Metaphor
With prose a poetry is as sweet
As Love to air and perfume meet
My second wish came true
My first also was to be with you
As Lovers fall from getting frail
You and I it's true can never fail
We are and never were
Each others splendid metaphor
By Peter Stavropoulos
poem by Peter Stavropoulos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kisses are Misses
Your dress is fluttering
In the wind
- Kiss
I like it when you lie
In the sun
- Kiss
I'd forgotten the perfume
You wore this morning
- Kiss
Yesterday we had so much
Fun
- Kiss
Kisses are misses
- Kiss
Come back again
By Peter Stavropoulos
poem by Peter Stavropoulos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True Love Is Gone
True love is weak, when lovers are weak,
True love is meaningless, when lovers are useless,
True love is not true, when lovers are untrue,
True love is wickedness if lovers are wicked,
One sided love, is not true love,
Fault finding in love isn't its stand,
It isn't perfectness, but affections
Nor not for something on somebody,
True love is dead, when it is believed to alive,
True love is wrong if lovers are right,
True love will lose, if lovers are winners,
True love is gone if lovers stays.
poem by Dickson Mseti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chances
Each chance
A new belief
Something new
A heart's relief
Each romance
A lover's hue
Finding Love
Each in you
By Peter Stavropoulos
poem by Peter Stavropoulos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sacrament
I hear you breathe so far from here
I feel your touch so close and real
And I know
My church is not of silver and gold,
It's glory lies beyond judgement of souls
The commandments are of consolation and warmth
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
I hear you weep so far from here
I taste your tears like you're next to me
And I know
my weak prayers are not enough to heal
The ancient wounds so deep and so dear
The revelation is of hatred and fear
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sacrament
I hear you breathe so far from me
I feel your touch so close and real
And I know
My church is not of silver and gold,
Its glory lies beyond judgement of souls
The commandments are of consolation oh
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
I hear you weep so far from me
I taste your tears like youre next to me
And I know
That our prayers are not enough to give
Oh the ancient runes so deep and so dear
The revelation is our patron fear
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Thought about you
I Thought about you
And lost my memory
In time
I could not remember
The loss
And yet
In you
I have a memory
Of a happier time
By Peter Stavropoulos
poem by Peter Stavropoulos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetic Embracement
Poetry - the mother of all emotion
Some call it mere ‘words in motion’
When I write, I love thee- Oh Poetry!
Thy branches deeper than the banyan tree
That’s why you are stronger than prose
Oh! Poetry! !
And as a poet I have all the freedom
And all the world’s verses in my kingdom
I can be fair or may be a little foul
I can see through the night like an owl
You can make night as day, your way
Oh! Poetry! Have your sway…
You have words stringed like beads
And a finger that pointedly needs
An applaud, a bow, a salutation
Sometimes a silent infatuation
You are the need of a man-to be free
That’s why you are –Poetry! !
If some one loves Thee, is it also me?
That sounds selfish but true you see!
For when I embraced you, Oh! Poetry -
An ‘embracement’ was ‘love’ I thought
But ‘embarrassment’ was what I got!
For she admired me, just for Thee! !
Oh! Poetry! !
So Wright is not wrong to send hugs to me
Or Petal isn’t having a fling with the sepals like me
A Rose no longer pokes on a prose so long
For today, just for you - ‘Poetry’ is on a song..
Let me be chainless today, let me be free
You are, what You are! My Poetry! !
poem by Jyo Jottypoet Love
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Poetry Is A Metaphor
Poetry is a metaphor
For beauty
For deepest feeling
For light
For all kinds of dreams we may not know the name of-
Poetry is a metaphor
For life at its most intense
Poetry is a metaphor for Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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True Poetry in Limelight
True poetry is filled with;
true inspiration,
true expression,
true composition,
true fun,
true-maturity,
true wisdom,
and true spirituality.
True poetry; deeply translate its true expression to the readers,
providing an unusual mutual extension which connects and familiarize its profuse massages to the reader.
True poetry has great powers of profundity
and unadulterated knowledge.
I keep hearing the saying; ‘plenty poetry lay in the graveyards'
but I don't give into that, because;
true poetry is like a moving destiny, its never lost or buried away.
No matter how beautifully engraved the grave is;
it must surely resurrect and be discovered in another creative beloved beholder.
True poetry never rest in tombs,
that's why it continuously itch thumbs and tongues until it is spoken or wittingly actualized.
True poetry, never frustrates a reader,
It's an excise which lustrates the brain and feelings.
Even if a poetry tries to depict political damnation, poverty, heartbreak, dearth/death, illness, or hunger,
it should always portray wondrous lesson or a revival mission.
True poetry makes you everything you want to be.
you can surely write your life the way you want it to be,
because your destiny is in your true poetry.
poem by King Femi Oloidi
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Two schools of thought.
.
The lady chose to take offence
Although I said she wrote fine prose
She may not know the difference
between poetry and prose
She thought that she wrote poetry
But what she wrote was free form prose.
I offered no apology
It was not my fault that she chose.
Not to learn the basic rules
defining prose and poetry
Two very different writing schools
in which to show your artistry.
The so called experts can’t agree
and coined the term poetic prose.
Though writing cannot possible
be classed as poetry and prose.
If it’s not metered it is prose
no matter how poetical.
But you’re entitled to compose.
Fine prose and call it poetry.
Though I suggest respectfully
you should be proud of writing prose.
As some do most successfully.
But it was poetry I chose
Thursday,11 March 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Perfect Portrait Of Love
I missed you,
That's why in my dreams,
I kissed you.
How I wished if
We were lovers,
Me and you.
But the God knows that was not true.
To escape your love,
I confessed you.
With the day dream, my love became true.
We were lovers
Me and you.
I swear of God, i've thought that,
It was true.
How we were happy at the paradise,
Me and you.
The sky were blue,
The birds above
flew,
And lovers around were true.
The green were melted with the love,
And spreaded all around,
How admiring that everything
Were like a perfect drown portrait,
Even our love was true.
I were the queen of the paradise of love,
And you were my king,
The angels were all around, clasping and sining blues.
But when I woke up
I knew,
And all the magic flew,
Once again the life has taught me,
That only in the dreams,
The perfect love comes true.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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To Die To Self To Love Again
Wilted red where roses bloom,
the smell of death and sweet perfume.
Where hearts are pierced and lovers meet,
Where death has flavour and tastes so sweet.
To die to self to love again,
in winter chills and pouring rain.
Where ice will thaw and you fall through,
Where your heart will learn what it was meant to do.
True Love Endures
True love
requires no proof
needs no proving.
True love
cannot help but
prove itself
over the course of time.
True love
stands the acid
test of time
with indomitable will
of true lovers
who cannot bear
to parted be.
True love
despite all adversity
unleashed
cannot parted be.
True lovers
live in the hearts
of their beloved
amazed at the beauty
two souls invoke
that cannot parted be.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Trials & Tribulations Of Poetry...
Melodrama..........has never been my cup of tea
'Less, the spotlight of center stage.....be on me
Cross pens are mightier...than a sterling sword
Still i'd rather a Bugatti...than a brand new Ford.
When sunsets catch my eye's......i'm so inclined
To paint a scape of words.....of twilights skyline
I'm just an imagist.....spinning picturebook tales
Some simpatico in weight......on prosaic scales
'Tis what i do, to keep my mind's eye free of rust
Never wrote Sestina.........6 of 6 is too much fuss
Yet true poetry is fuss about perfection, an' more
Requiring the will, and want to adhere, 'n explore
Many say poetry...is merely image and depiction
Yet this claim falls far short....of its pure definition
Beauty of the substance.......the sweet of the flow
That's what draws the line, 'tween poetry, 'n prose
One need not rhyme, true poetry's self-melodious
Lyrical in flounce 'n flux, and yes quite harmonious
Too many think themselves a''Poet''......so absurd
For so few have mastered the art of Written Word
Thats why prose today....is the substitute of poetry
With no restrictions.......your limits are virtually free
As for me, i am no Poet..............Nor shall i ever be
I'm just an imagist....content with my picture stories
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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My Poetry Has Become Prose
MY POETRY HAS BECOME PROSE
My Poetry has become Prose
I have lost my music
Nothing sings in me;
I have lost my richness of meaning
Nothing in me is not linear, flat and clear.
I have lost my poetry
And have become a writer of Prose
In pseudo Poetic Form-
There is in me no Line
That says more than itself-
I am Prose now not Poetry
And yet still secretly hoping
My inner irony will
In contradicting me
Save me.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Our Poetry Critics
Our poetry critics ageing males on saturday evenings from six to nine
Meet at the literary room of the Lions Club to do what suits them fine
To talk of poetry and poets each to their point of view
Though they agree on one thing that good poets only few.
Well educated gents of course and they could not be rude
But contemporary rhyme poets only poetasters and them they exclude
From their talk of poets and poetry and in their literary knowledge they take pride
And who is or who is not a poet seems their right to decide.
They never talk about bush poets such verse they see as slipshod
And they see them as the children of the lesser poetry god
And for their years in Uni they have their degrees to show
And of poets and of poetry so much they think they know.
To them a poem is not a poem unless it reads like prose
And a ballad different from true verse as a weed is from a rose
And true poets only write for the privileged few that's what they do imply
And never for the ordinary, people like you and I.
Our poetry critics at the Lions they meet on saturday
And who is a good poet and what is a good poem each like to have their say
And if you wish to become a member of their club you must have your Uni Degrees
For if not to them you are not qualified for to talk about poetry.
poem by Francis Duggan
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True Love Never Dies
True love never dies, true love never dies, true love never dies, true love
Never dies, true love never dies, true love never dies, true love never dies
We look like shadows in the streetlight, only me and u a secret rendevouz after
Midnight, they tried to keep us from each other, they crucify our love, say
Were not good enough to be lovers, I want to hold u in the morning, I want to
Wake up by your side, no reason to hide what were feelin, (give me your
Feelin!), I want to tell the world about it, tell them all the truth, get up on
The rooftops and shout it, true love never dies, true love never dies,true love
Never dies (repeat to fade)
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thousands of eyes
Poetry or prose is a writing.
In prose contents get focus
And in poetry, taste of words.
Prose sounding poetry is sweeter.
We see thousands of stars at night
And only one sun in a day - prose.
The night has thousands of eyes
And the day, only one in sky. - poetry
01.08.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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True Love
There’s something more to love
Than saying, ‘I love you! ’
There’s something more to love
Than asking, ‘How do you do? ’
There’s something more to love
Than catching hands to walk;
There’s something more to love
Than everything you talk.
There’s something more to love
Than writing letters long;
There’s something more to love
Than composing a song.
There’s something more to love
Than embracing, kissing;
There’s something more to love
Than enquiring, hugging.
There’s something more to love
Than cooking dainty foods;
There’s something more to love
Than romance or sex-moods.
There’s something more to love
Than doing house-hold chores;
There’s something more to love
Than opening heart’s doors.
There’s something more to love
Than inking poetry;
There’s something more to love
Than sinking hate truly.
There’s something more to love
Than touring the whole world;
There’s something more to love
Than forget bad words hurled.
There’s something more to love
Than entwining in bed;
There’s something more to love
Than things all done or said.
True love is undefined;
True love is invisible;
True love is most refined;
True love’s indelible!
True love is celestial;
True love is more concealed;
True love’s perennial;
True love stays least revealed!
True love’s ill-understood;
True love is tested much;
True love’s misunderstood;
True love has divine touch!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-11-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Carnival Is Over
Say goodbye, my own true lover,
As we sing a lovers song.
How it breaks my heart to leave you,
Now the carnival is gone.
How it breaks my heart to leave you,
Now the carnival is gone.
Say goodbye, my own true lover,
As we sing a lovers song.
How it breaks my heart to leave you,
Now the carnival is gone.
High above, the dawn is waking,
And my tears are falling rain,
For the carnival is over;
We may never meet again.
For the carnival is over;
We may never meet again.
##
##
Like a drum my heart was beating,
And your kiss was sweet as wine.
But the joys of love are fleeting
For pierrot and columbine.
Now the harbour light is calling;
This will be our last goodbye.
Though the carnival is over,
I will love you till I die.
Say goodbye, my own true lover,
As we sing a lovers song.
How it breaks my heart to leave you,
Now the carnival is gone.
Say goodbye, my own true lover,
This will be our last goodbye.
Though the carnival is over,
I will love you till I die.
Though the carnival is over,
I will love you till I die.
Though the carnival is over,
I will love you till I die.
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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