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        Entertainment & the Arts >> Fine Arts  >> Random Poems
        
(Message started by: kianna on Apr 16^th, 2005, 9:15pm)

Title: Random Poems
Post by kianna on Apr 16^th, 2005, 9:15pm

I surely hope you're not yet tired of all the poems in here. I know, I know, sometimes I feel like all I ever do is find poems and if it's something I like, post it here. It's just that I can't think of any "new idea" to add in The Lit category as of now. Oh, well I guess this'll do for the time-being. It's just that sometimes I find it hard where to put some poems I like for they don't fit in in the love, sad, neither the inspirational ones. That is why I'm adding a new thread. And please, if, in a way, someone's quite tired of all the poems already, please do tell. I promise I'll stop. ;D

Title: What Is A Poem?
Post by kianna on Apr 16^th, 2005, 9:21pm

What Is A Poem?

What is a poem?
Is it a child running free without a care in the world,
With no idea of the tough times ahead.
What is a poem?
Is it bumping into someone in the street and knowing instantly that you love them,
But will probably never see them again.
What is a poem?
Is it a woman giving birth for the first time going through all that pain,
And still loving that beautiful baby in a way in which only another mother can understand.
What is a poem?
Is it experiencing the tsunami in person,
While other people watch it in their homes on the news.
What is a poem?
Is it discovering that an apple will always fall down when dropped,
Is it asking why does it fell down when dropped.
What is a poem?
Is it dying and knowing that the person you once loved and touched is underground,
Is it knowing that someday you will also die.
What is a poem?
Its all of the above and many more besides,
And being able to express it in a way that others will be able to associate with.
All these, all of this is a poem.

~~Laura Cummings~~

Title: No More Clichés
Post by kianna on Apr 16^th, 2005, 10:12pm

No More Clichés

Beautiful face
That's like a daisy that opens its petals to the sun
So do you
Open your face to me as I turn the page.

Enchanting smile
Any man would be under your spell,
Oh, beauty of a magazine.

How many poems have been written to you?
How many Dantes have written to you, Beatrice?
To your obsessive illusion
To your manufactured fantasy.

But today I won't make one more Cliché
And write this poem to you.
No, no more clichés.

This poem is dedicated to those women
Whose beauty is in their charm,
In their intelligence,
In their character,
Not on their fabricated looks.

This poem is to you women,
That's like a Shahrazade who wake up
Everyday with a new story to tell,
A story that sings for change,
That hopes for battles:
Battles for the love of the united flesh
Battles for passions aroused by a new day
Battle for the neglected rights
Or just battles to survive one more night.

Yes, to you women in a world of pain
To you, bright star in this ever-spending universe
To you, fighter of a thousand-and-one fights
To you, friend of my heart.

From now on, my head won't look down to a magazine
Rather, it will contemplate the night
And its bright stars,
And so, no more clichés.

~~Octavio Paz~~

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by kianna on Apr 23^rd, 2005, 9:13am

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

~~Maya Angelou~~

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by kianna on May 9^th, 2005, 6:06pm

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

~~Maya Angelou~~

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by kianna on May 14^th, 2005, 12:27pm

Warning...

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

~~Jenny Joseph ~~

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by kianna on May 20^th, 2005, 6:52pm

Life...

LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall ?

Rapidly, merrily,
Life's sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily,
Enjoy them as they fly !

What though Death at times steps in
And calls our Best away ?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O'er hope, a heavy sway ?
Yet hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair !

~~Charlotte Bronte~~

Title: I Like For You To Be Still
Post by teagirl on May 25^th, 2005, 4:34am

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not touch you
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth
As all things are filled with my soul
You emerge from the things
Filled with my soul
You are like my soul
A butterfly of dream
And you are like the word: Melancholy

I like for you to be still
And you seem far away
It sounds as though you are lamenting
A butterfly cooing like a dove
And you hear me from far away
And my voice does not reach you
Let me come to be still in your silence
And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp
Simple, as a ring
You are like the night
With its stillness and constellations
Your silence is that of a star
As remote and candid

I like for you to be still
It is as though you are absent
Distant and full of sorrow
So you would've died
One word then, One smile is enough
And I'm happy;
Happy that it's not true.

Pablo Neruda

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by kianna on Jun 23^rd, 2005, 6:21pm

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v211/kianna_andrea/candla1.gif

Good-Night

Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.

How can I call the lone night good,
Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight?
Be it not said, thought, understood --
Then it will be -- good night.

To hearts which near each other move
From evening close to morning light,
The night is good; because, my love,
They never say good-night.

~~Percy Bysshe Shelley~~

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by psyche on Jul 21^st, 2005, 6:18pm

Two Cures for Love

1. Don't see him. Don't phone or write a letter.
2. The easy way: get to know him better.

~~Wendy Cope~~

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by mercedeezman on Aug 21^st, 2005, 5:21pm

Hmmmm this is slightly depressing and had no title.... but hey i was 23 :P and randomness ruled then.

Petty.
Arrogant.
Insignificant.
Such are we puny humans.
Of what importance is
racism?
war?
politics?
How can we believe we are alone?
A million million stars like our own.
Earth the only inhabitable mass?
Supplying the only intelligent life?
Arrogance unbelievable.
A man is to Earth as an atom to man,
the Earth to the solar system,
the solar system to the Milky Way,
the Milky Way to all there is, is even less.
Of what importance is man to the unimaginable mechanism
of the Universe?
We are less than zero.
Why must there be a reason for life?
We are random elements producing an amazing reaction.
We live.
No reason.
Yet we are still,
petty,
arrogant,
insignificant.

Title: Re: Random Poems
Post by bad_day_me on Jan 31^st, 2007, 2:13pm

on 07/21/05 at 18:18:44, psyche wrote:

Two Cures for Love

1. Don't see him. Don't phone or write a letter.
2. The easy way: get to know him better.

~~Wendy Cope~~

nice!!! i will remember that always....
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