Dis Poetry
Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops
De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots
Dis poetry is designed fe rantin
Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,
Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep
Preaching follow me
Like yu is blind sheep,
Dis poetry is not Party Political
Not designed fe dose who are critical.
Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed
Be Drunk
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
drunk.
But on what?Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be
drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of
a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,
drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,
the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything
Poetic Masterpiece
Poetic Masterpiece: A Childbirth Of Profundity.
Like delivery of Divine Revelations
which favours calmness of wilderness;
It's brought forth in Creative-Glory-Of-Solitude:
an abode of Enlightenment in whose mirror of grace,
purest passions reflect out from shady reality —
to gratify inflamed curiosity of Inward-Eye,
as it wanders around source of enchantment,
seeking in expanded awareness to capture
the essence of a phenomenon shrouded in mystery.
Songs Of The Singing Bird!
The unknown singing bird sang
Several songs for some years;
The songs of the singing bird
Soon created news and history!
All the life songs of the bird about
Nature and culture are literature now!
Knowledge and experience give wisdom
That gives a system of life to live;
This is called human culture.
Ars Poetica?
I have always aspired to a more spacious form
that would be free from the claims of poetry or prose
and would let us understand each other without exposing
the author or reader to sublime agonies.
In the very essence of poetry there is something indecent:
a thing is brought forth which we didn't know we had in us,
so we blink our eyes, as if a tiger had sprung out
and stood in the light, lashing his tail.
>≫A Poet's Journey
The first poem was a wonder
The second was a surprise.
The third poem made me a poet,
The fourth gave me a name and fame.
The fifth poem fetched me a fabulous fantasy
The sixth one was a striving struggle for perfect beauty.
The seventh poem conceived the heaven's serenity,
The eighth one gave me a fly,
The ninth poem lifted me in the sky.
Populist Manifesto No. 1
Poets, come out of your closets,
Open your windows, open your doors,
You have been holed-up too long
in your closed worlds.
Come down, come down
from your Russian Hills and Telegraph Hills,
your Beacon Hills and your Chapel Hills,
your Mount Analogues and Montparnasses,
down from your foothills and mountains,
out of your teepees and domes.
Poetry Is Sexy
Poetry is sexy
Its lyrics aim to please
Poetry is sexy
Engaging in its tease
Poetry is sexy
It radiates with verb
Poetry is sexy
A Single Note
A lilac for the anonymity,
Of Mrs. Hinkle's simple poetry.
It shines within the margins of its space,
A single note of captivating grace.
The subtle sun through ancient maple leaves,
Paints memory with a gentleness that grieves.
A touch of soul is music to the bone,
Even after every wing has flown.
Everything I See Is Poetry To Me
Everything I see
Is poetry to me
From the last standing tree
In a lonely forest
To the great ocean sea
Bathing in the sunset
everything I see
Is poetry to me
Every thing I see
Realizing
.
« What is Poetry? »
Heavens no! Don’t ask me;
I don’t know the answer.
« Try one —Any answer;
Just to give me a clue »
Maybe
Poetry is just a starry night looking down at us..
Or it is the whole of
A Man I Knew
There was a man I knew
and just knowing him
made me think of poetry.
Loving him, I learned
that accepting love
is as important as giving it
and the not-so-subtle difference
between loving lukewarm
On The Grasshopper And Cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury,--he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
My Poetry Journey
My poetry journey is nothing and nowhere to go
Without leaving a word or two
I need a companion along the way
With you in my thoughts each day
In this square box i learned a lot and send
To click, read and comment and bend
Making someone happy and heaven sent
Learning, loving, inspiring and content
Iris Of Poetry
Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about 'What A Poetry Actually Is', the obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different this time...
Poetry is the reflection of our lives like in the mirror,
It is something we can relate to and share.
It's our memories written in jumbled words,
It's like a song, with a meaning it holds.
A mere idea of our mystical lives,
Biography Of A Poem
Where speech fails, poetry takes over.
As if like a fetus in the womb, a poem
Is born in the brain's chamber, where
It sleeps and sometimes moves about
For an exit. Finally it finds its way out,
Silently through a computer keyboard
Or the nib of a pen, to the open world.
Where speech fails, poetry takes over.
Small poets eschew big pandemonium.
Poetry 1 - An Emotional Rhapsody
Poetry is
An emotional Rhapsody
Igniting the contemplative mind
Pouring out words in exuberance
At times, an impudence to create
A Chutzpa!
Poetry And Religion
Religions are poems. They concert
our daylight and dreaming mind, our
emotions, instinct, breath and native gesture
into the only whole thinking: poetry.
Nothing's said till it's dreamed out in words
and nothing's true that figures in words only.
A poem, compared with an arrayed religion,
may be like a soldier's one short marriage night
~ Mom By Default Rape ~
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
NOTE: I'm sorry to say today I find PH like before [as in case of 'I Want To Be Raped'] again banned this poem as I find it is not in my poetry list...so I've made some typographical change and reposted it and some comments already posted by Hon'ble Readers I'm posting here ~ niv
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
~ Ich Bin Ein Künstler [fusion Poetry] ~
~ Ich bin ein Künstler [Fusion Poetry] ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
April 18,2010
[Humble apology: Like music dance painting etc. I’m offering linguistic fusion in poetry ~ ‘Fusion Poetry’. Readers’ are requested to refer to glossary ~ niv]
I’m stark stone
Sculpt myself
Schnitzen my ownself