Writing Is Painful
Poverty cannot be romantic
If anything it is a sea bed
Of suffering and therein the hobo
And the money lender can sink
But the poverty of the soul and
The empty basket of the spirit
And the begging bowl of the
Mind are the modern sins
Into which the unwary will drown
Some spend life times and effort to
Acquire acquire money and power
This they say gives them status
There is power hidden in the leaves
Of the little things in life to whose
Pleading we pay scarce attention
Poetry is devastating like limpid
Water in less ignorant vicious ways
Best of all like music like a delightful
Beautiful woman poetry makes us happy
But writing is painful
And so is love
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Power Conferred By Money
It is a fact that human beings cannot live without money
People go to work everyday because of money
The more money we have the greater the influence
The more influence we have the greater the control
The more control we have the greater the power
Therefore with lots of money, we acquire power
We classify some people as rich, affluent and prosperous
This is because they have lots and lots of money
By the way - what is this power conferred by money?
In other words - how powerful is money?
Several people agree that money is everything
Lack of money can lead to divorce
Labour unions will go on strike for money
Political campaign is doomed without money
Businesses close down when they have no money
Consultants sell their services for money
Without money we cannot acquire any property
In some countries, access to superior medical services
Is not possible if you do not have lots of money
Also in a number of societies, the caliber of education
You can have depends on how wealthy your parents are
To have money power is to have authority
Oh! Money, what are we going to do without you?
Many believe that money talks everywhere
Whoever has more money makes the loudest noise
The power conferred by money turn few people
To be labeled as the movers and shakers
Does this mean that the poor have less power?
Take a closer look at the society in general
The answer is everywhere and in all places
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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No One Makes Money From Poetry
'No one makes money from Poetry”
“No one makes money from Poetry
If you need Money get it somewhere else
If you live your life by poetry
Be rich from something else,
Or poor forever.
Or have a job on the side
Which is not on the side
Like Wallace Stevens
If you need money
Don’t give your life to poetry
Give your life to making money
Money and Poetry they are not made together.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Money
Money
Money
Money
Important
Useful
Necessary
Money
Money
Money
Wealthy
Middle
Poverty
Money
Money
Money
Save
Give
Spend
Money
Money
Borrow
Lend
Money
Money
Foe
Friend
Money
Money
Master
Slave
Money
Money
Satisfied
Crave
Money
Money
Laugh
Cry
MoneyMoney
Live
Die
Money
Money
Sick
Well
Money
Money
Heaven
Hell
poem by Howard Simon
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Taming The Shrew!
You can even move a mountain by faith, they say;
You can melt even a mountain by poetry, I say!
You can crack even a hard nut by poetry, know you!
Who cannot be moved by music in the world?
Music makes even a poisonous snake dance to its tune!
Music has the power to tame or drive away wild animals.
Poetry is musical words created by poet’s magic power;
Man being a higher being is tamed by musical poetry.
Poetry has the power to absorb, tame and inspire many!
Poetry consoles as music, art and Nature worn out souls
As poetry is the best and final resort for the hopeless here
For, it’s like God’s power that can turn hopeless into hopeful!
Poetry, the source of music and song, is the first and last
That tames the shrew and turns a dolt into a daunting don!
poem by Ramesh T A
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No Money in Poetry
Oh he wants me to stop
Writing poetry for nothing
He'd love to see me drop
This pen for other things.
It will not make me rich
That's what he always says
Late nights of writing which
Wastes my time and does not pay.
In poetry there is no money
But I need to be a writer
For I can say this truthfully
There's no poetry in money either.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Poetry Is
poetry is what the soul wants
poetry is infinite sound that taunts
poetry is strength of ones spirit
poetry is the powerful truth within it
poetry is love and hate
poetry is what makes you stop wait and appreciate
poetry is something you should die for
poetry is what makes you dropp to the floor
poetry is put up randomly
poetry is, well, simply poetry
poem by Daniel Romero
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How much money do you need to be happy?
How much money do you need to be happy?
Poor man
How much money should you have to be happy?
Greedy man
How much money do you want to be happy?
Thrifty man
How many men would you corrupt to have money?
Gentleman
How many people would you kill to get money?
Coward man
How many children would you exploit to make money?
Hungry man
How many laws would you break to be rich?
Dishonest man
How many illegal ways would you use to be wealthy?
Weak man
How many lies would you tell to gather money?
Sick man
How many friends would you betray to get money?
Thirsty man
How much damage would you cause to make money?
Blind man
How much power do you need to be proud?
Mad man
How much power do you need to lead the crowd?
Bad man
How much power do you require to kick the world?
Ugly man
How much power do you need to be satisfied?
Selfish man
How much power do you need to be happy?
Sad man
How much hate do you want to be famous?
Wrong man
How much hate do you need to stop massacres?
Dwarf man
How much sorrow do you want to love the other?
Fool man
How much misery do-you want to be happy?
Crazy man
poem by Bouche Cousue
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Drunk On Poetry
Poetry surges steadily
Through my veins
I grant it to stream through them
Day in and day out
Sleep and awake
I believe it's a healthy obsession
I get drunk on it
The more I inject in me
My mind thrives on poetry
My soul thrives on poetry
I become addicted
Sometimes I absorb too much poetry
Reading, writing and listening
I become drunk sometimes
Poetry spills from my pen
Inking a piece of paper
And unto another and another
Constantly on every thought
Humorous, emotionally, romantic, tragic
Experiencing in life
Opinionated, factual, abstract
Political, any subject that's on my thoughts
Sometimes I become drunk
The more i inject into me
Poetry I live for
Eat, drink, sleep
Racing through my spirit
Poetry, poetry, poetry
I loose myself sometimes
When I digest too much
Poems that I write
I write for me
I share them with the world
I can't resist this urge
Poetry is what I crave
It happens to be my mistress
I become drunk
The more I inject
My mind thrives on poetry
My soul thrives on poetry
I become so addicted
Breathing in too much poetry
Reading, writing, listening
I'm drunk sometimes
Poetry I write
Write from experience
What I've done
What I've heard
What I've seen
What I've felt
What I've known
Poetry I live for
Eating, drinking, sleeping
Racing through my spirit
Poetry, poetry, poetry
On my thoughts poetry
Loosing myself sometimes
When I inject enough
This is what I've become
A drunken poet
poem by R.K. Cowles
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Sonnet: Functions Of Poetry
In Poetry, the Bard's inpired heart,
Reveals its feelings in a wordy way;
Adhering to the basic rules of art,
And making life delightful everyday.
At times, ‘tis wholly the play of our mind;
Sometimes, an exercise of word-painting;
Good things in it, the readers always find,
That helps to live better by God-loving.
And Poetry must stand the test of time;
The best way 'tis to depict life as such;
And suggests ways to make it more sublime;
Affording readers with a magic-touch.
Yet, Poetry must reign supreme for long,
Tho' change with times just like a modern song.
poem by John Celes
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Whoever Said Money With It Does Not Bring
Their families and friends and loved ones with expensive gifts they can shower
Whoever said money with it does not bring great power
Are wrong in their thinking to me it does seem
The pauper will never be held in high esteem
For my thinking on this matter credit I am not due
Since I only say here what is obviuosly true
Whoever first said money speaks every language surely got it right
With little of it life is an uphill fight
Though of happiness money not a guarantee
You will not find many who embrace poverty
Not many happy faces on Poverty Street
Where most have to struggle just to make ends meet
The praises of the wealthy you hear many sing
And those with heaps of money have almost everything.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Safety is peace
Acquire skill. Acquire knowledge.
You are not robbed.
Acquire wealth. Acquire power.
You are robbed.
Peace comes where safety rules.
18.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Weight of Poetry
Poetry is core of arts
It’s not strange!
Not knowing that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not strange as well!
The many who don’t know that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not a strange at all!
Although the poets usually make foes against vulgarity
A city makes the poets wandering on the streets
Should utterly lack of the manner and style
A society brings the resentment to the poets
Should fully lack of consciousness
Solitude is the major topic in life
Solitude is poetry
Lack of poetry, art is a form of imitation
Lack of poetry, power is a presumptuous mediocrity
Lack of poetry, fortune is a wealthy poverty
Lack of poetry, love is a superficial organ
The extreme of love- solitude
The extreme of wealth- solitude
The extreme of power – solitude
The extreme of art- solitude
The extreme of climax - solitude
The extreme of world - solitude
The extreme of planets- solitude
Those who have never explored loneliness
Can write down the weight of poetry?
poem by DePen Chang
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Money Is Most Important
At the top of people's new year's wish list you won't find poverty
For money speaks every language as most would agree
A lack of money in people causes low self esteem
Money is the most important thing to most it does seem
Yes money is the most important thing
The praises of a pauper you will not hear one sing
Music, song and dance may be food of the soul
But people with plenty of money of power have control
And of the World that we live in it does seem sad to say
That money speaks every language in the World of today
Yes money to many it does matter most
To a pauper anyone does not drink a toast
And you will not find many to embrace poverty
Money is most important as most would agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard
The Shadow Inside My Shadow
poverty is not my cousin,
is not my lover,
is not my preacher,
poverty is not my brother.
poverty is not my prayer,
or the song that i sing
is not my answer
poverty is not my dream.
poverty is not my teacher,
not the hand that i hold.
poverty is not my anger,
not my spirit, not my soul.
ah! but this poverty is real
it races thru my mind
crashes into my heart,
& leaves me deaf and blind.
poverty is my companion.
the aching cold inside my hollow.
the blow behind my eyes,
poverty is the shadow
inside my shadow.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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
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Poetry & Meditation
Poetry is the heart of life
Meditation is the soul of life
Poetry removes obnoxious thoughts
Meditation evolves the power of thoughts
Poetry is song of life
Meditation is music of life
Poetry and meditation makes the life
an enlighten one
poem by Ramesh Rai
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A Man Became Addicted To Poetry
A MAN BECAME ADDICTED TO POETRY
A man became addicted to poetry-
Wherever he went he read or wrote a few lines-
Poetry became much of what he did-
Poetry and poetry and poetry-
As if that alone could give meaning and pleasure to his life.
A man became addicted to poetry
And so lost at times
What true poetry is –
Now he writes without knowing
Whether he is truly writing
Or merely using the ‘idea and world of poetry’
For his own peace of mind.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I'm The Richest Woman
You should know
I’m the richest woman!
I’ll tell you now
With more than you!
Do you hear me?
I’m the richest lady!
Pay attention
Wanting money
Wanting something
Anything other than poverty
You see I’m terribly poor
I fell in love with being at the bottom
Poorer than a church mouse
I could easily end up in a hovel
Yet I won’t cry over a ripped blouse
You see I have no money to worry about
No finances to keep me up in terrible doubt
You see one day I’ll be richer than God
And my name will rise higher than Heaven
I have a soul that no money could afford
I have the face that no surgeon could create
I want the world to know
I’m the richest woman you’ll know in life
You hear me, world?
I have no money to buy the shiniest knife
I tell the world
I’m the richest woman, because I’m so fly
It’s all due to
I have the soul that no money could buy
I’m a goddess of spirit and the queen here
I’m such a cute and trusting little dear
You can trust that I’ll never lose my mind
And to my poverty I’ll always be so blind
My parents can barely afford the rent
A family of four in a one bedroom apartment
You see I’m the brightest diamond in this
A rough that I have turned into my bliss
I do not have the finest clothes
But I have the finest nose
Leather of the finest, never
My skin is the finest endeavor
A size for which any boy would kill
Would you believe? That I’m rolling in gold
A heart of gold and life
The world should know in its heart
I’m the richest woman in this world!
The world will know beyond a doubt
I’m the richest woman, and wisest being!
The world will see in shining light
I’m the richest lady to walk the streets
Despite the fact so small and lame
I have no Jimmy Choo stuff on my feet
The world will love in their hearts
I’m the richest woman you’ll ever know
The world will know through and through
I’m the richest thing that’s living now
Let the world love me
I’m the richest woman
I happen to be the richest woman
Do you understand?
I’m the richest darling
The finest person
With the upmost caring
That’s why I care
For the world to know
I’m the richest woman!
poem by German Alcala
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Dreamer's Paradise
The dark meadows of sin and the hidden treasure
The silver lake only covered by the snow
A writer torn apart by flames of hate, of love and pain
The last performance of an escapist, seeker of beauty
We live like the sun and the moon and the everlasting space
A poet is one who stays under the rain hoping to be struck by lighting
Under the ever washing rain we live and die
Release the tears of heaven may our sins be cleansed
Her poetry had long been without name, without destiny
Now, from the other life she smiles at us, and writes
The verses stopped, and her breath was muffled
Six feet underground she writes not for us, but for the dead
His poetry had long been mislead and misread
The tears dropped onto the ground like rain drops
It is the end of all hope, the end of his life
Yet the poetry still breathes
Poetry is a mirror, a mirror of sin
It makes beautiful that which is distorted
Search for beauty in the gardens
Acquire the knowledge of the wises, find your shoreline
The sunset is here, soon there will be rain
Where will be when it comes?
Breathe my poetry and burn my words
The rain is here, the shoreline is near
Search your shoreline, find beauty.
poem by Amy Stuart
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