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I fired an arrow from my shed
to show my love I was not dead
I aimed at the moon
coz my heart just bled
but it landed in
my neighbour’s headThe police came round
and arrested me
for writing such poor
poetry@mellow wrote:
Time is endless love is sparse
looking for love find the source
it begins with you it’s inside us all
but always be ready for the fall.Feelings come and feelings go
they pick you up or make you low
good or bad they find you out
make you laugh and make you shout.Happy joyful smiling laughing
all the good things love can bring
sadness despair pain and fear
when someone cannot be near.Live enjoy rejoice in happiness
beware though of eternal sadness
take and embrace hold onto your heart
you never know when you will be apart.The distance the void the passing time
knowing they will not be thine
so smile so laugh so try to be more
than what you ever were before.All of your poems are very special :D
Thank you netty , it is good when a poem or words evoke memories
and can be attributed to places , people or events from someones past
or present.Thank you penny , when someone appreciates poetry it is nice of them to
say so :DThe journey
A leaf falls from its sanctuary in the tree
drifting aimlessly on the mercy of the breeze
not knowing where its going or where its meant to be
ending its journey but at last finally it is set free.A journeys end now awaits the solitary leaf
a garden on a park or just settling on the heath
the ending may be short lived or may go on through Autumn
just nestling on the ground craving some final summer Sun.A journeys end for one so proud so what is its fate
as Summer folds and Autumn calls for the leaf its now to late
crinkling drying shrinking dying losing its life force
its natures way of making things take their natural course.The leaf may now be no more simply crisp and gold or brown
covering the landscape with a beautiful colourful gown
so though the life has seemingly drained away
the leaf for now is here to stay.Once green once bright once full of zest
now no more the leaf finally comes to rest
but still gives pleasure in its final passing
such beauty in evidence so much delight it still can bring.So though things fall and come to rest
they only serve to pass the test
to return again with Summers bloom
to bring the tree to life once more soon.@annette-curtain wrote:
@mellow wrote:
Thank you for the comments , feel free to post a poem of your own anybody.
Here is one called Tranquil.Babbling brook running deep
gentle flow soothing feet
walking slowly taking care
country breeze in your hair.In the distance rolling hills
breathe the air enjoy how it feels
shimmering sun-rays through the mist
a beautiful summer sunrise not to be missed.I immediately thought of Tinks , when I read this. Lovely!
Wonderful poem tinks , that was emotive and drawn from
personal and happy memories no doubt.Sands of time
Looking back to those distant childhood years
the times were happy we never knew many fears
and so through time through hope and through growing up
we took for granted happiness playing friendships all the childrens stuff.As time goes by it is measured so little
so your memories you must never whittle
the sands of time are there to use
to look back on memories you must never lose.The times you saw and looked on in awe
those kinds of memories will never go
so keep them close and hold them dear
to call upon in times of sadness or fear.Then be strong and look and smile
let your memory linger a while
look back in fondness and give a contented sigh
your mind your heart and your memories do not lie.Well, poetry covers many sins, from jolly ditties like The Dirty Old Bishop of Birmingham to poems which stun you into silence, like Ezra Pound’s Pisan Cantos, or James Merrill’s The Changing Light at Sandover.
Many people, and I think maybe some of the people here, write poems about something, memory or event, which means an awful lot to them, is close to their heart. The most poignant cover a loss, of a child or baby quite often – but the memory is often much sharper and much more felt than the actual poem. Agenda, the poetry magazine, found those poems very hard to handle, though they always took a hard line on them.
Maybe most people write poetry like that (some magazine found that far more people write poetry than read it, which is quite worrying to my mind at least).
The first poet I ever met insisted on reading his poems aloud to us – they were about his se xual feelings, and he read them looking all forlorn and sensitive, with an open shirt to show his manly chest (to the guys as well as the gals – Simon Armitage does this, sometimes lol)). When someone said she thought the poems were c rap, it was like someone had criticised his performance in bed. At first, he went all quiet and hurt, his face painful to behold. Then, as the poetry readings went on, he started shouting, telling us all that we had no real appreciation of poetry. Boy, was he peeved.
Ezra Pound , at the age of 25, read his (deeply romantic and archaically phrased) poetry aloud to Ford Madox Ford. Ford lay on the floor, and rolled around laughing his b um off. Pound was upset, for sure, but he decided that maybe he should change his poetry, and write different stuff. Writing better poems is a better response than getting all uptight and sniffy.
As a modest word of genuinely friendly advice from someone who appreciates poetry (honest, I do, honest lol, and I’m glad and a bit jealous that people should want to write it) poems don’t have to rhyme,
but if you do write formal poetry,
make sure it scans by reading it aloud to yourself.
Maybe my ear for rhythm isn’t as good as I think it is, though?
That was a tad sceptical and maybe even blase
is that what you simply just came here to say
the use of free verse had not gone away
it simply waits patiently to be written another day.As there are many forms in which poetry can be used
who is anyone to say which is more likely to amuse
enjoyment from reading or writing is simply what it is
i really hope that you can try to understand this.So i shall not look upon your comments except with open arms
and hopefully the poems people post will wow you with their charms
alas if this is not meant to be and you choose to comment with disdain
that is your choice i have to say but the poetry will remain.If there could be a poem that was suited to all tastes
then maybe not so many words would simply go to waste
the simplicity and delight is there if one can see
and brings pleasures to many others and hopefully not just me.There are it is reckoned over fifty types of poetry in all its wonderous forms
and they make us happy they makes us sad and sometimes quite forlorn
but that is maybe the attraction of why people write some verse
to gain such enjoyment by simply being terse.The path
When one can seem to be so strong yet fail in wordly ways
it makes no sense it has no reason why these things bear such a load
the rights or wrongs will not matter as thy strength will see you through
no path will be impassable nor will no stone will remain unturned.If you can see the passage ahead and defeat the foe in sight
a strength like one hundred Tigers will be beating in your heart
no foe will remain undefeated less troubles will you have
for your path will become a haven and lifes burdens will be less.Find your inner strength feel it and feed on it everyday
feel the hope then feel the need in part of daily life
be strong be bold and never fall short of your goals
but most of all remember to never fear your path.
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