Nothing and Everything
Do you want to hear my poem?
It's very sweet indeed,
Some may say it's a sonnet,
Some may have disagreed,
You see it's about nothing,
Besides everything blue,
and pink and purple and red,
Maybe even yellow?
Perhaps it was something I said,
But nevertheless I still hear,
Just sitting here, sipping my beer.
Did I make everything clear?
Or do I need to repeat my words?
Do you want to hear my poem?
poem by Ambrie Tam
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Related quotes
I Can Sense It Coming
I can sense it coming
I hear it from within
The words are here
A poem-
But whether what I feel as a poem
Is a poem
Is another question-
Words come
Perhaps they are only prose -
Not every sound which comes from within is beautiful
And not every word I wait to hear is a poem-
Should I stop here
Or is this already enough for now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Try
I TRY
I may have no poem today -
And perhaps no poem tomorrow-
And perhaps no real poem at all ever-
I have the desire for
And the love of poetry,
And the writing of my words
The telling of my soul
With whatever music and meaning I can give-
I try-
But is ‘Trying’ good enough?
I hear the poem within myself
Do you hear it at all?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Don't Hear A Poem This Morning
I DON’T HEAR A POEM THIS MORNING
I don’t hear a poem this morning
I hear nothing but a computer hum
A silence which has no beauty in it
A fear which has no name.
I hear loneliness and sadness and doubt and trouble
I don’t hear ‘kindness’ and ‘love’
I hear ‘worry’
I hear Fear.
I hear nothing of Beauty or Kindness or Love
I hear a poem which once again
Says how difficult it all is.
What a troubled person I have always been
Even as I calmly write this now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem To Be Heard
A poem to be held
a poem to be fed, with words stronger than the ancient
spirits.
Ti's a poem to be read by all.
A poem that beats the heat of temptation away.
It's power in every single word attracts the moonlight.
A poem, a light in the dark wilderness.
A poem that is just needed and leaves the audience
speechless.
A poem that comforts a sad soul.
Read to me a poem
when I'm cold.
Read it to me till I'm old.
When I'm heart broken, a poem, a love, I'd want.
A poem, a victory through lives endless battle.
A poem an epistle to mine heart, and every written word
in it is heard.
A poem, about royalty, about Kings and Queens
and how they live in luxury.
A poem, a song about sweet heavens.
Read me a poem and slow my heart beat down.
A poem with a tasty flavor, I'd want to hear.
Read me a poem that explains how Nelson Mandela
conquered his fears.
A poem that can describe how Martin Luther Kings
felt when he fought for freedom.
I long to hear it,
Therefor read me a poem,
to be heard.
poem by Marlene Rashidi
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I Hear My Own Poems Rushing In Me
I HEAR MY OWN POEM RUSHING IN ME
I hear my own poem rushing in me
Despite my sadness and my despair
It tells me I am still alive-
I hear it rushing in me now
As these lines wonder too,
What will be next?
And if I will end it right?
And whether or not it is a true poem?
A rushing in me now-
Like words written and forgotten
So many times
Not so long ago-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Hear My Own Music
I hear my own music
My poem sounds to me
Like a poem-
But do you hear my poem
As a poem?
And do you feel the rhythm
Of a soul in tune
With its own doubtful singing?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Morning/ I Wait To Hear A Poem In Me
THIS MORNING / I WAIT TO HEAR A POEM IN ME
This morning/
I wait to hear a poem in me
The only sound the sound of the seem
Words and words
Empty and free
Nothing true
Nothing believed.
I wait to hear a poem in me
And whatever I hear
Is only me
And nothing is true
And nothing is real
All I am writing
Only a dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Without The Chase
August 31,2009
Pink to blue, to yellow,
to monstrous purple clouds looming on the horizon;
My horizon, layed out before me.
I step out, look up and it flies away.
You fly away. I jump for you
and I am leaping, bounding,
stretchng beyond my limits into pink and blue,
and pink and blue.
But you're gone.
I settle again, shrug, and look
to the monstrous purple clouds.
I could fly away without the chase,
theres just no desire for me to have it any other way.
I blink, and look up again to purple,
lavender, yellow, clouds of the deepest grey.
Dusk settles.
All of a sudden, I can hear everything.
Crickets, every far off chirp in trees.
I smile as I step back in.
Back into sheltered silence.
poem by Monica O'Connor
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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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Only A Poem Can Save Me Tonight
ONLY A POEM CAN SAVE ME TONIGHT
Only a poem can save me tonight
The heat has been too much
Also the feeling of illness.
I cannot move my mind very much
But a few lines I can write.
Are they a poem?
Is this a poem?
Long ago I began to hear the words which came from within me
As poetry.
They had a real music of their own
Even now I suppose I can hear them
I write to make my life meaningful
Is this a poem?
The heat and the feeling of illness do not matter-
I am writing this down
As if it were Poetry.
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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I Was Away From The Poems
I was away from the Poems
I could not hear them within myself -
There were many sounds
Many different kinds of words
And speakers and ranters and shouters
And all kinds of false music also
And even beautiful music and prayer-
But there were no poems
I could hear no poems
And within myself suddenly there came such ‘longing’
And such ‘anxiety’-
‘Where is the Poem? And where can I possibly be if there is none?
And how can I find it again? ’
And all I needed I thought was some long long long silence
Some being alone and away
Some forever waiting to hear
Some listening to the true voice
And then somehow somehow the Poems would come again –
And here here here it is now
The poem
Quiet and sure and happy and light and singing
As if it were the one music God wanted me to hear
And repeat always as if it truly were mine and yours
Dear imagined reader,
Alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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What Is A Poem?
WHAT IS A POEM?
What is a poem?
Where is a poem?
Once there were poems
Now there is only dreaming
In diverse directions
Far from home.
What is a poem?
Where am I?
Words once were lights
And now the darkness decides
That the morning can come
Only if I hear myself say to you
‘Blessed is this day now’
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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You Complimented My Poem And I Did Not Have The Consideration To Read Yours
YOU COMPLIMENTED MY POEM AND I DID NOT HAVE THE CONSIDERATION TO READS YOURS
You complimented my poem and I did not have the consideration to read yours
Now I apologize to you without mentioning your name
Or reading your poem-
A weak apology
Meant to get me off the hook-
Still I know how lonely it is to write and write
And not hear the words you want to hear in reply
Forgive me
Perhaps I will read your poem or poems one day-
But I cannot promise.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Music Is Gone
THE MUSIC IS GONE
The music is gone-
What is a poem without its own music?
There is no melody in me.
I hear these flat words form on the flat page.
There are no dimensions to me
I hear no singing as I write.
This poem is words with little feeling
A flat poor poem written by an old man
Who this morning
has not yet truly woken up.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poem Needs Silence
A POEM NEEDS SILENCE TO HEAR ITSELF BE HEARD
A poem needs silence to hear itself be heard
Background clutter destroys the holy word.
Let the music play elsewhere,
Let the talkers aloud outside,
A poem needs silence
To hear itself inside.
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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My Blue Poem
Writing my blue poem
With my pink pen...
Mellow blue,
Sweet Aster sugar blue,
Sad sighing blue,
Mid-night sky blue
Blues singing, crying blue...
'Lady Day' blue
Soon smiling blue,
Because I am thinking of you,
Writing my blue poem
With a pink pen
Thinking of you
(11: 36-11: 37 p.m.
Oct.15,1998)
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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