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‘poet's – Pangs’

‘POET'S – PANGS’
esspeecee *

# Phonic diarrhea
With conceptual constipation
Pithead feeling
Paresthetic vision …… Poetry.

# Icteric video
Cacophonic audio
Meshed abstraction
Cobwebbed imagination …… Poetry.

# Puzzling imagery
Robs calorie – noesis
to understand
decode …… Poetry.

# Miscarriage:
From poet’s
pregnant heart
A premature deformed
baby poetry
ICU Rx fails to
make viable.

Regret of the poet,
Want not any more
To be fertile
To womb poetry in heart.
For refuge
Goes into hibernation
To become:
A living fossil ……The Poet. #

Copyright reserved by the Author

poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poetry Of Confession

THE POETRY OF CONFESSION

The poetry of confession -
The poetry of self- indulgence-
The poetry of the ‘wretch con-centered all in self’-
The poetry of moods and feelings-
Of all ideas only as they relate to the poet himself-
The poetry of desperation-
The poetry of need-
The poetry of urgency -
And serving the poet first-

Not enough of the world
Not enough of others- of other perspectives
Not formal and disciplined enough-

The poetry which is not crafted and polished
The poetry in which the need of the poet
Is more central than the quality of the poetry –

The poetry which may be too selfish to be good-
Whose moral failure makes more prominent its aesthetic flaws-

The poetry which is not so good
And not great
But quite banal and commonplace –

A poet can give his life to his poetry
And that still be nothing at all-

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Not A Poet 2

When I feel I am really a poet
I see my flesh is poetry
My pleasure is poetry
My pains are poetry
My feelings are poetry.

Poetry protects me
Poetry teaches me
How to fight back and win.

Poetry is my freedom
Poetry is my independence
Poetry is my flag
And an anthem
Poetry is my prophet
And a messanger.

But I am not a poet
Do not read me
Burn me into ashes
Let there be a flower
From the ashes.

poem by Devil Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Becomes The Poetry

THE POET BECOMES THE POETRY

After years of striving to write Poetry
The Poet becomes the Poetry
No word is not poetry in him
And no silence is not the sound
his own writing makes

Wherever he is
Whatever he does
is Poetry
Mediocre or not
Real or not
Loved or not
Understood or not
The Poet is Poetry
Unable forever to escape
what he Lives.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Definition of Poetry by a 15 yr old

Poetry does not need a meaning or defintion.
Poetry is how the reader reads it,
Poetry is how the poet writes it.
Poetry is real,
Poetry is fake,
Poetry is everything,
Poetry is fate.
Poetry is rythm.
Poetry can ryme.
Poetry is anything, I make it mine.

poem by Eric Graham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.

Poetry...Poetry...

Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.

Poetry...Poetry...

poem by Akash Agrawal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Loses His Power For Poetry

A POET LOSES HIS POWER FOR POETRY

A poet loses his power for poetry
He can put down words
But they no longer have poetry in them
Something of the feeling of what real poetry is
is gone.
He strives
He writes again and again
He puts words down in the forms and in the shapes his poems usually take
But he has no poetry in him
He has lost what he is
And all he can do
is strive again and again
Word after word
Silence after silence
To hear within himself again
A voice he does not have.

The poet is writing poetry
And it is not poetry
The poet is dead
And he is pretending to be alive
Is this a poem?
Is he a poet
Is he dead?
Is he alive?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An act of poetry

Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry

A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art

Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation

Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:

The pen be our salvation.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry is Everywhere

To all my friends who say –
Poetry is not my cup of tea,
I’d strongly recommend that
they watch “Dead Poet’s Society”.

Poetry is in your cup of tea,
poetry is in every wave of the sea,
poetry is in the song of a bird
poetry springs forth from each of your word.

Poetry is in the smile of a baby,
poetry is in the redness of a ruby,
poetry is the union of your heart and mind
poetry teaches you to be soft and kind.

Poetry is the song of your soul,
poetry reminds you of your life’s goal,
poetry is in a game of cricket,
poetry is in the sound of a cricket.

Imagine life without poetry -
What an empty life it would be!
Imagine a world without poetry -
What a dull place it would be!

09 June 2010
! 2: 50 pm

poem by Gita Ashok
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Became His Own Poetry

A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY

A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.

A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Being A Poet

being a poet
is not an ambition

it is ironic
that i do poetry and

yet i do not want
to be called a poet

nor be identified with
any movement in poetry

nor take the challenge and opportunity
of being crowned by laurel leaves

and be dragged on the stage of
an island of light focusing my head and body

and they shall all clap and say
this is the poet, this is our poet

not in the figment of my imagination
not an ambition not a profession not a career in the field of literature
to be a poet on a certain degree

you see, i live in a crowded universe
i am a fish in the sea of people

and i, never imagine once in my whole life
that i will be swimming so meaninglessly in the corridors

of this vast ocean of men and mice and snakes
and goats and pigs and eagles

poetry is what i do but i am not a poet
this poet, that poet
their poet

the reason is here inside my heart
this is my place &
this is my only chance to be alone

to be myself to be human again for out there
i, we, you have become pillars
and dams.and walls and continental shelves

it is only here in this spot
that i become my island

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Was A Time / When Poetry Was The Poet's Only Life

THERE WAS A TIME/ WHEN POETRY WAS THE POET’S ONLY LIFE

There was a time
When Poetry was the Poet’s only life-
All that was in his experience
Had its meaning
Only as Poetry.

But when he began to understand
‘Poetry’ had primarily become a ‘means’
For his own Greed and Ego.
Poetry was lost.

But as he was a Poet in his soul,
He and his life too were also lost.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Undefined

Poetry is a great many things
to each poet you see,
Poetry even has various meanings
as to what it is to me

Overall,

Poetry is the means
By which my heart communicates,
My mind finds the words
For these feelings and translates

Sometimes,

Poetry is my lover
My fantasies he fulfills
Beckoning me to crisp, white sheets
where my blacks and blues I spill

Or,

Poetry comes as a mysterious moon
appearing softly in the night,
age old secrets of the universe
he reveals to me with his light

See,

Poetry is my spirit
the connection to the Divine,
It lets me see what I am to be,
let’s me soar when I feel confined

So,

Don’t try too hard to define
What poetry really is
Just know that what you get from a poem
Is all a poet had to give

11.25.02

poem by Tamika Stubblefield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Who Thinks Only Of Poetry

THE POET WHO THINKS ONLY OF POETRY

The poet who thinks only of poetry
And for whom Poetry is all of life
May be a poet for poets,
But makes the world of Poetry
Smaller than it should be.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Read my poetry

Read my poetry
My poetry is enough
My poetry is independent
My poetry creates itself.

Read my poetry
My poetry is not mine
Everything belongs to my poetry
My poetry creats itself.

Read my poetry
My poetry is psyche and
Alchemy in me
My poetry is independent of me.

Read my poetry
It agony its ecstasy
Its inspiration
Everything belongs to
My predecessors-poet
Read my poetry
Read my poetry.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Proud poet

I’m a Poet

I’m a poet because I Love Poetry
I love expressing myself in writing
I expressing myself in word
I express myself wanting to make a statement
I love making an impression
I wanna suppress depression
Suppress the painful feeling inside
Express and get rid of the depression that is stressing
Forcing me to go for counseling

So I write to be right
I write and to recite

Poetry releases the frustrations
Poetry frees prisoned souls

My personality improves
As I grow with my knowledge and experience

Why should there be competition
Why should you diss me
I ain’t trying to hate
Just trying to release my thoughts

I’m a poet by birth
I’m a poet by growth
I’m a poet by nature
I’m a conscious woman of poetry
I’m a respectful woman of poetry
I’m a confident woman of poetry
I’m a phenomenal woman of poetry

And this is only an opinion
Yet a true confession.

Zanele F Mavuso

poem by Zanele Mavuso
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry On The Chin

You gouged my mind's eye,
Tantalised all inner thought,
Shocked from unknown angles;
Sold me, told me cold,
Unfolded, moulded;
Shouldered any harbouring
Of empty morals.

You spun me round; undressed -
Pestered me with background riddle -
Piffle came to gleaning meaning.
And you stripped out prejudice - for none
Must exist in poetry,
Lest you close up an open mind
And f**k up as reader;
Lest your heart is not a bleeder -
It has to be - let it flush out
Upon your sleeve.

You lay apart my thinking brain
And let in the literary pickings of a
Great poetic phallus.
Yes, poetry can be callous.

Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet’s Pang Again

POET’S PANG AGAIN
esspeecee … 16.06.09.

I squeeze battered brain cells
For words: Poetry.

I wring my quiescent heart
For ejecting emotions: Poetry.

I moisten blotted tongue
For alphabets, words: Poetry.

I burn my poetic lamp
To lend silvery grains from cloud
To limn: Poetry.

In ceaseless rainy night
In dancing rain drops
Achingly I try to get: Poetry.

All have come to halt,
Obeys me not
Any more. Why?

Are they resting?
To start afresh? In me?

Inside:
Tossing, restless: I’m
- wild wind, tsunami: I’m in.
- scorpion stung cat: I’m like.
- xerosis, no oasis: I’m in.

Poets of world,
My petrified silence:
Pity me not.

Time is the
Best killer,
And healer.

Copyright reserved by the Author

poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dont Write Poetry!

i dont write poetry...
i sweat poetry, i drink poetry,
i breathe poetry, i make love to poetry,
i fight poetry, i eat poetry,
i bleed poetry, i crap poetry...
too often i betray poetry,
sometimes i dropp poetry.
once i tripped over poetry,
got angry and kicked poetry.
i rocked poetry on a sleepless night,
i buried poetry on the hill...
i lived poetry, for i am poetry...

no, i dont write poetry,
but poetry writes me!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Retrieved Poetry

Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
But the inspiration that befell the poet,
But the gods that cursed the poet
Would never allow him grow weary.
It keeps pouring out like morning dew
From sundown to cock crow.
Poetry is dead,
          Some would say.
Those would get paid
That wishes it out of this world.
Judgement day, the pay day, even today
,
Memories linger of what the gods inspired.
Only poetry has survived a worldwide flood.
Poetry is dead,
          Some have said.
          But the inspiration keeps coming,
          But the memory keeps living.
          Poetry lives on even when the world is dead;
          It dies only if it is not poetry
          And there is only a good few poetry.
Poetry is dead,
          Some have said.
          Until we start seeing poetry as poetry
          And nothing more, until that day,
          Until we start thinking he is inspired,
          Until we stop thinking for the poet;
          He is possessed he is innocent.
Poetry is dead,
          So goes the argument.
          Even as we cut from the same tree,
          Even as we speak same universal language,
          You cannot cut deep if your axe's blunt.
          We can never speak from same mouth.
          You can only say your own thought.
Poetry is dead,
          So goes the argument,
          If poetry is dead killed by death,
          If poetry is dead swallowed by death,
          The corpse should be in our front.
          We should know how to bury it.
          We should dig not cover it with dust.
Poetry is dead,
          If poetry is really dead,
          There is cause to weep bitterly,
          There is cause to think deeply
          For the world has been stripped naked.
          For poetry is great, ageless, timeless, bottomless
          At the burial we must remain emotionless.

poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Of Our Time

He doesn't like non rhyming poetry ignore what he has to say
About your fashionable writing you are the poet of the day
Your thoughts on paper are as deep as the ocean you are a wise one indeed
You are an emerging writer as a poet you will succeed
Everyone has their opinions no two exactly the same
He doesn't like modern poetry but he has not sullied your name
It only means you are a good writer when others your works criticize
You are a poet of the future you've won a literary prize
At poetry nights you read your verses and always for you there's an encore
You feel so proud and so happy when the audience they beg you for more
People love you for your poetry see you as a poetic great
But not everyone as you know your success will celebrate
He is a man of the fifties he only likes poems that rhyme
So many do love your poetry you are a poet of our time.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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