There may be more poetry than justice in poetic justice.
quote by George Will
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Related quotes
On the Innate Drive For What is Right
As life bled, martyrdom flared its buds.
Repression, red from irritation,
Rendered chinks and cracks; but thuds of
Armament - in cowardice - accomplice of the
Dictatorial blight thro' countless years -
Wreaked its retribution:
Yet hope began to bloom a coloured carapace
Enshrining their allegiance ‘gainst the
Terror in their tears.
And on! Splits yawned - breaches in the junta:
Flesh fought fanatical minds -
Bullets welcomed into open hands
And blessed with yearnings for morality:
Chiselled man-toys of death and mutilation
Couldn't repel the might of freedom
Surging at the bright horizon.
Crepuscular rays of purpose, body,
Flooded pandemonium with
Overwhelming clarity, direction -
Burdened clouds drifting wayward as the
Light channelled out a vision,
Intensifying focus on tomorrow -
Deepen their stride
As they home in to
What is theirs,
Rightfully theirs!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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
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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
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Justice...
… Slow Justice
Is Better Than No Justice
… I Just Want Justice and Peace
To Feel Justice
It Must Be Real Justice
Not Cut-Deals Or Just A Piece
Full Justice
Not Pull The Wool Justice
She’s Already Been Blindfolded Enough
We Accuse Justice
But To Lose Justice
Is To Unlock Chaos’ Cuffs
Justice …
Is Lustrous
In Pearls Of Conviction Displayed
Justice …
The Huntress
Were Wild-Wily-Wrongs Are Caged
A Cry For Justice
Is Why Justice’s
Scales-Weights Shouldn’t Be In Doubt
Legal Justice
Be Equal Justice
With Rules To Balance It Out
Honest Justice
Promise Justice
Is Right For The Poor and Oppressed
But Even Rich Justice
And Even Quick Justice
Should Be A Standard, Silvered Process
Raw Justice
Shouldn’t Be Flawed Justice
But Free To All Everywhere
The Power Of Justice
Is That The Hour Of Justice
Doesn’t Run Out Of Time Anywhere
Men Must Court Justice
And Support Justice
[...] Read more
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Justice Of The Peace
(ian hunter)
Its such a terrible shame it was only a game
Then her brothers found out seven johnny be goodes
We was only pretending at mummys and daddys
They totally misunderstood
Oh what a terrible plight what a terrible fight
It was too much to bear her father said ere
I think you better sign its a letter designed
To have you married by the first of the year
Get the justice of the peace
Get the justice get the justice of the peace
Oh get the justice of the peace
Get the justice get the justice of the peace
If you want to play with fire
Youll get yourself burned
I was messing with the ashes
But look at how it turned out
Get the justice of the peace
Get the justice get the justice of the peace
Oh what a terrible waste such a shocking disgrace
To give me away Im too young to die
A shotgun wedding heading straight for the sky
And Im shy mary ellen Im shy y y y
Get the justice of the peace
Get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
Come on!
Get the justice of the peace
Get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
When your chips go down
You came on the dice
Forget the mississippi
Take some friendly advice
Get the justice of the peace
Ill get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
(give it to me old chum)
Get the justice of the peace
Get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
Get the justice of the peace
Get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
If you want to play with fire
Youll get yourself burned
And I was messing with the ashes
And look at how it turned out
Ill get the justice get the justice of the peace
Ill get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
Ill get the justice get the justice of the peace
Ill get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
Ill get the justice get the justice of the peace
Ill get the justice Ill get the justice of the peace
Ill get the justice get the justice of the peace
[...] Read more
song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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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
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Poetry: What Is Poetry?
Poetry pleases my ears
that words sound in harmony,
but not to a foreign tongue.
Poetry draws a picture
to invite my eyes,
but still puzzles my mind.
Poetry blows with wind,
in water He flows,
shouts in thunders,
and bounces as rock in roll.
Poetry preserves His truth,
in secret codes, simple words,
only reveals to the worthy.
Poetry sings in my ears,
dances in front my eyes,
kisses my lips,
brings fragrance,
that fills my mind
and imprints my soul.
Poetry does not like as I like
as whenever I use as like wrongly,
and it is unfair He uses
correctly all times He does,
but I make Him to like
as I do like anyway.
Poetry tells stories
to company my journey,
writes jokes
to convert my tragedy
into a comedy,
and builds a rainbow bridge
where my dream
and reality meet.
Poetry blinded Homer
with Helen and war,
afflicted Catullus
with his love and hate,
taught Beowulf
how to fight!
Poetry made Li Bai drunk
in magical words,
brought sorrows to Du Fu,
[...] Read more
poem by Laijon Liu
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Something that pours from the heart
Poetry is something as mystical as the mountains;
shimmering majestically on the rivers in diffused
beams of brilliant sunshine,
Poetry is something as astonishing as the glittering
gold biscuits entrenched deep beneath earth; emanating
a profound glow that blended poignantly with the
atmosphere,
Poetry is something as ingratiating as the hissing
serpent; deluging the morbid ambience around with
overwhelming exhilaration,
Poetry is something as ravishing as the blossoming
petals of rubicund rose; wafting its essence
ubiquitously through all continents of this colossal
Universe,
Poetry is something as grandiloquent as the
incredulously embellished castle; offering an abode to
anyone afflicted by inexplicable distress,
Poetry is something as vivacious as the magnificently
swirling ocean; with each of its tangy waves
fulminating into a blanket of pungent froth,
Poetry is something as magnanimous as the clouds;
which bless the parched soil and ground with
torrential showers of mesmerizing rain,
Poetry is something as resplendent as the fathomless
rainbow; dissipating into vibrant shades of
magnificently animated color,
Poetry is something as exuberant as the cheekily
dancing peacock; incarcerating millions in its
stupendously enamoring swirl,
Poetry is something as innocuous as the new born
infant; touching the hearts of even the most
diabolical with irrefutable ardor,
Poetry is something as soft as voluptuously woven pure
silk; exquisitely binding every religion prevalent on
this planet,
Poetry is something as ingenious as the bubbling buds
of mushroom; evolving into celestial sprouts of
wonderful white,
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Z. Comments
CRYSTAL GLOW
Madhur Veena Comment: Who is she? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ....You write good!
Margaret Alice Comment: Beautiful, it stikes as heartfelt words and touches the heart, beautiful sentiments, sorry, I repeat myself, but I am delighted. Your poem is like the trinkets I collect to adorn my personal space, pure joy to read, wonderful! Only a beautiful mind can harbour such sentiments, you have a beautiful mind. I am glad you have found someone that inspires you to such heights and that you share it with us, you make the world a mroe wonderful place.
Margaret Alice Comment: Within the context set by the previous poem, “Cosmic Probe”, the description of a lover’s adoration for his beloved becomes a universal ode sung to the abstract values of love, joy and hope personified by light, colours, fragrance and beauty, qualities the poet assigns to his beloved, thus elevating her to the status of an uplifting force because she brings all these qualities to his attention. The poet recognises that these personified values brings him fulfilment and chose the image of a love relationship to illustrate how this comes about; thus a love poem becomes the vehicle to convey spiritual epiphany.
FRAGRANT JASMINE
Margaret Alice Comment: Your words seem to be directed to a divine entity, you seem to be addressing your adoration to a divinity, and it is wonderful to read of such sublime sentiments kindled in a human soul. Mankind is always lifted up by their vision and awareness of divinity, thank you for such pure, clear diction and sharing your awareness of the sublime with us, you have uplifted me so much by this vision you have created!
Margaret Alice Comment: The poet’s words seem to be directed to a divine entity, express adoration to a divinity who is the personification of wonderful qualities which awakens a sense of the sublime in the human soul. An uplifting vision and awareness of uplifting qualities of innocence represented by a beautiful person.
I WENT THERE TO BID HER ADIEU
Kente Lucy Comment: wow great writing, what a way to bid farewell
Margaret Alice Comment: Sensory experience is elevated by its symbolical meaning, your description of the scene shows two souls becoming one and your awareness of the importance of tempory experience as a symbol of the eternal duration of love and companionship - were temporary experience only valid for one moment in time, it would be a sad world, but once it is seen as a symbol of eternal things, it becomes enchanting.
I’M INCOMPLETE WITHOUT YOU
Margaret Alice Comment: You elevate the humnan experience of longing for love to a striving for sublimity in uniting with a beloved person, and this poem is stirring, your style of writing is effective, everything flows together perfectly.
Margaret Alice Comment:
'To a resplendent glow of celestial flow
And two split halves unite never to part.'
Reading your fluent poems is a delight, I have to tear myself away and return to the life of a drudge, but what a treasure trove of jewels you made for the weary soul who needs to contemplate higher ideals from time to time!
IN CELESTIAL WINGS
Margaret Alice Comment: When you describe how you are strengthened by your loved one, it is clear that your inner flame is so strong that you need not fear growing old, your spirit seems to become stronger, you manage to convey this impression by your striking poetry. It is a privilege to read your work.
Obed Dela Cruz Comment: wow.... i remembered will shakespeare.... nice poem!
Margaret Alice Comment: The poet has transcended the barriers of time and space by becoming an image of his beloved and being able to find peace in the joy he confers to his beloved.
'You transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.'
Margaret Alice Comment: You are my peace and solace, I know, I am, yours too; A mere flash of your thoughts Enlivens my tired soul And fills me with light, peace and solace, A giant in new world, I become, I rise to divine heights in celestial wings. How I desire to reciprocate To fill you with light and inner strength raise you to divine heights; I must cross over nd hold you in arms, light up your soul, Fill you with strength from my inner core, Wipe away your tears burst out in pure joy How I yearn to instill hope and confidence in you we never part And we shall wait, till time comes right. the flame in my soul always seeks you, you transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.
RAGING FIRE
[...] Read more
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Poetry is the reason I live
Poetry is the air that I breathe in every minute;
granting me the tenacity to propel exuberantly
forward; each mundane instant of monotonous life,
Poetry is the rhapsodic wind I trespass through on my
way; engendering me to fantasize to infinite
kilometers beyond the sky,
Poetry is the most proudest possession I have ever
acquired; making me feel more privileged than the
gloriously majestic kings,
Poetry is the smile that perennially encapsulated my
lips; granting me the magical prowess of evolving a
mystical paradise; out of sheer nothingness and
bizarre wilderness,
Poetry is my reason to contentedly sleep; blissfully
conceiving the entire beauty of this fathomless planet
in each of my dreams,
Poetry is the royally grandiloquent dwelling which I
inhabit; harboring me like a divinely angel against
the most acrimonious of storm,
Poetry is the perpetual conglomerate of roses which
blossomed in my garden; blending my aboriginal
rudiments more emphatically with the soil; as their
spell binding fragrance tickled my nose,
Poetry is the tantalizing rain that fell with untamed
charisma on my naked skin; igniting the most
obliviously dormant infernos in my body; the highest
point in the sky,
Poetry is the stupendously silken fabric which I wear
to envelop my body; acting as my compassionately
amicable mate for times immemorial,
Poetry is every song I uttered from my throat;
inundating my drearily diminishing soul; with
unsurpassable happiness,
Poetry is the benevolent seed in my mind; which
proliferated at astounding speeds into the tree
called; friendship and solidarity,
Poetry is the blazing volcano of my innermost senses;
which makes me indefatigably feel that I was
euphorically bouncing and always alive,
Poetry is the enigmatic cloud that incessantly hovered
in my eyes; reinstating in me a romantic lovebird;
even as I galloped my last footstep towards my grave,
Poetry is the blood that turbulently drifted through
my labyrinth of intricate veins; instilling in me a
new found ardor as each minute unfurled,
Poetry is the pea***** which always perched on my
window at the crack of vespered dawn; culminating its
vivacious festoon of feathers full bloom; to cast its
impregnable spell upon the languid atmosphere,
Poetry is all the wealth that I could ever assimilate;
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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When I wasn't breathing
When I wasn’t blissfully snoring; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
cistern of stupendously rhapsodic and gloriously majestic Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t unsurpassably fantasizing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
garden of ingeniously magical and miraculously mitigating Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t superbly adventuring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
an
ocean of bountifully resplendent and timelessly undefeated Immortal
Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t scrumptiously relishing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
playground of optimistically enlightening and unbelievably royal
Immortal
Love Poetry,
When I wasn’t limitlessly triumphing; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cascade of beautifully panoramic and effulgently liberating Immortal
Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t pricelessly smiling; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
lantern of unendingly vibrant and inscrutably tantalizing Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t gloriously partying; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
paradise of eternally vivacious and pristinely redolent Immortal Love
Poetry,
When I wasn’t unassailably inspiring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
festoon of incredulously ameliorating and perpetually compassionate
Immortal
Love Poetry,
When I wasn’t magnanimously feasting; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cocoon of symbiotically philanthropic and ubiquitously coalescing
Immortal
Love Poetry,
When I wasn’t ebulliently fornicating; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
mist of wonderfully reinvigorating and blessedly burgeoning Immortal
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Poetic Standard
Poetic Standard
Poetic inspiration must supply
Open sourced resourcefulness, may not
Exist in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
That holds back harmony from inner eye.
Insidious compromise can't satisfy
Creative impulse that rejects as blot
Secondary lot where, half forgot,
Tired lines block, lock life's vista, dreams deny.
All hesitation acts out living lie
None should accept to temper daily rot,
Dread time-trap snapped shut once one bolt is shot.
Aloft soar, draw from intuitions, fly!
Read much, hunch heed, rise from rant's rubbish vent,
Dare to revise, creative dance invent.
Skein poetic weaves life's leaves. Flash wink
Turns think through ink to stage fulfilling page
As insight mixes music, words wild, sage.
No Tao is tainted that cues tone-true link
Descriptive and instructive, scanned in sync.
Although some self-styled poets feel form's cage,
Review Stravinsky's words, all doubts assuage.
Deny blank prose poetic rose crown. Drink
Pierian deep, sip not lip-service brink,
Or compensate for feelings trapped to wage
Ego war against injustice guaged,
To ease maimed spirit's claims of unfair stink.
Inside poetic process progress make,
Craft well, rewrite, reword from second take.
6 September 2009 robi3_1908_robi3_0845 ASX_IXX
Acrostic Sonnet POETIC STANDARD STANDARD POETIC
See notes and related poems below
__________________
Pierian Spring
The Pierian Spring from greek mythology is held the metaphorical source of knowledge about the arts and science. Pieria, ancient Macedonia, was the location of Mount Olympus, the seat of worship of Orpheus and the Muses. The spring is believed to be a fountain of knowledge that inspires whoever drinks from it.
Alexander Pope - Essay on Criticism
A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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
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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
It gets into me dreadlocks
It lingers around me head
Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike
IÕve tried Shakespeare, respect due dere
But did is de stuff I like.
Dis poetry is not afraid of going ina book
Still dis poetry need ears fe hear an eyes fe hav a look
Dis poetry is Verbal Riddim, no big words involved
An if I hav a problem de riddim gets it solved,
IÕve tried to be more romantic, it does nu good for me
So I tek a Reggae Riddim an build me poetry,
I could try be more personal
But youÕve heard it all before,
Pages of written words not needed
Brain has many words in store,
Yu could call dis poetry Dub Ranting
De tongue plays a beat
De body starts skanking,
Dis poetry is quick an childish
Dis poetry is fe de wise an foolish,
Anybody can do it fe free,
Dis poetry is fe yu an me,
DonÕt stretch yu imagination
Dis poetry is fe de good of de Nation,
Chant,
In de morning
I chant
In de night
I chant
In de darkness
An under de spotlight,
I pass thru University
I pass thru Sociology
An den I got a dread degree
In Dreadfull Ghettology.
Dis poetry stays wid me when I run or walk
An when I am talking to meself in poetry I talk,
Dis poetry is wid me,
[...] Read more
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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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
[...] Read more
poem by R.K. Cowles
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Life-An immortal Love poetry
Life is unconquerably; resplendent poetry of the most
highest degree; incredibly pacifying every
infinitesimal urge of the miserably unfinished soul,
Life is perpetually; majestic poetry of the most
highest degree; royally gifting countless impoverished
souls; with insatiably unending fantasy,
Life is ubiquitously; vibrant poetry of the most
highest degree; triumphantly metamorphosing each
ethereal trace of misery; into a fireball of
ingratiatingly untamed happiness,
Life is marvelously; bountiful poetry of the most
highest degree; beautifully placating every
hedonistically traumatized agony; with the exuberance
of untainted breath,
Life is indomitably; enchanting poetry of the most
highest degree; harmoniously coalescing every organism
irrespective of caste; creed; color or tribe; into the
religion of Omnipresent oneness,
Life is unceasingly; triumphant poetry of the most
highest degree; wholesomely massacring every speck of
the horrifically parasitic devil; with the scepter of
unshakable righteousness,
Life is tirelessly; fantastic poetry of the most
highest degree; iridescently glimmering like the
stream of ultimate unity; even in the heart of
insidiously macabre midnight,
Life is blessedly; exotic poetry of the most highest
degree; inevitably triggering an unprecedented
maelstrom of eclectic fantasy; in every brain on this
planet; enigmatically alike,
Life is irrefutably; sensuous poetry of the most
highest degree; miraculously rekindling every shade of
claustrophobically dwindling expression; with a wave
of undauntedly perennial heavenliness,
Life is astoundingly; impeccable poetry of the most
highest degree; forever erasing the wounds of
dastardly salaciousness; with its eternal mantra of
everlasting mankind,
Life is unrestrictedly; divinely poetry of the most
highest degree; spell bindingly mollifying every
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Life-An Immortal Poetry
Life is unconquerably; resplendent poetry of the most
highest degree; incredibly pacifying every
infinitesimal urge of the miserably unfinished soul,
Life is perpetually; majestic poetry of the most
highest degree; royally gifting countless impoverished
souls; with insatiably unending fantasy,
Life is ubiquitously; vibrant poetry of the most
highest degree; triumphantly metamorphosing each
ethereal trace of misery; into a fireball of
ingratiatingly untamed happiness,
Life is marvelously; bountiful poetry of the most
highest degree; beautifully placating every
hedonistically traumatized agony; with the exuberance
of untainted breath,
Life is indomitably; enchanting poetry of the most
highest degree; harmoniously coalescing every organism
irrespective of caste; creed; color or tribe; into the
religion of Omnipresent oneness,
Life is unceasingly; triumphant poetry of the most
highest degree; wholesomely massacring every speck of
the horrifically parasitic devil; with the scepter of
unshakable righteousness,
Life is tirelessly; fantastic poetry of the most
highest degree; iridescently glimmering like the
stream of ultimate unity; even in the heart of
insidiously macabre midnight,
Life is blessedly; exotic poetry of the most highest
degree; inevitably triggering an unprecedented
maelstrom of eclectic fantasy; in every brain on this
planet; enigmatically alike,
Life is irrefutably; sensuous poetry of the most
highest degree; miraculously rekindling every shade of
claustrophobically dwindling expression; with a wave
of undauntedly perennial heavenliness,
Life is astoundingly; impeccable poetry of the most
highest degree; forever erasing the wounds of
dastardly salaciousness; with its eternal mantra of
everlasting mankind,
Life is unrestrictedly; divinely poetry of the most
highest degree; spell bindingly mollifying every
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Hammer Of Justice
You see me but I'm not there
Like the calm before the storm
You hear me, I'm everywhere
In the wind and in the rain
Feel me in every breeze
I'm the chill inside your spine
I'm burning you start to freeze
As you slowly turn around
And down in your hole
Solitary darkness rule
You are forlorn
Cause justice will be mine
Prowling the night
Justice calling - We'll track you down
Justice calling - Ready to strike
Justice calling - Breaking the chains
Hammer of Justice seeking his revenge
Dead man walking by
There's a void inside his eyes
Judgement, a final sigh
Here the screams electrified
As the mirror turns blank
And your essence fades away
Your chapter's closed
Sealed with thunderbolts
Prowling the night
Justice calling - We'll track you down
Justice calling - Ready to strike
Justice calling - Breaking the chains
Strike with the Hammer of Justice
Justice calling - We'll track you down
Justice calling - Ready to strike
Justice calling - Breaking the chains
Hammer of Justice seeking his revenge
I see the injustice everywhere I go
I search for tomorrow and I know you will be there
The hammer of justice holds the key to the future
The bringer of sorrow is the last you'll see
Justice calling - We'll track you down
Justice calling - Ready to strike
Justice calling - Breaking the chains
Strike with the Hammer of Justice
Justice calling - We'll track you down
Justice calling - Ready to strike
Justice calling - Breaking the chains
Hammer of Justice seeking his revenge
song performed by Hammerfall
Added by Lucian Velea
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This is Not Poetry
This isn't poetry
These are just the ramblings of a madman.
poetry is written by educated men, about deep thoughts, splashed with
color and sprinkeld with verses that I can't even understand.
but this is not poetry,
These are just the ramblings of man barely sane, dancing on the razor sharp edge
of madness, flirting with insanity, mumbling to the friends I created long ago,
dancing with these vague ethreal beings that lurk beneath the glaze
of my tortued and red rimmed eyes.....and liking it.
Poetry is written by great men, but I'm am not great
Poetry is written by wise men who can string together rythmic impassioned words
that soften the heart, and ease the troubled soul, but I am not wise,
Poetry is written by men of deep feeling but my feelings, have been numbed
by whatever chemestry prescribed or not, attempting to numb the stinging acid
of the hateful words aimed always at me.
Poetry is written by people with great thoughts,
but my thoughts remain hidden, and buried.
Buried in pain, and rejection. and in the hooded eyes of the strangers,
that whisper as they pass me on the street, and yes even anguish, did you
know I was capable of that?
This is not poetry... I wonder what is.
These are just the ramblings of a madman
If I could peel away the calouses that surround my aching heart and expose the
hot volcanic passion that hides lying within, would it suddenly become poetry?
or would it still be the ramblings of a madman, danceing on the edge of sanity
and liking so much the dance?
I thrill to this madness, the insane dances are my best moves. Money I have
none, and meals even less I have my madness and the voices of the damned that
struggle to stay alive beneath my pasty skin. This is not poetry, this is madness,
I dont get poetry.
You laugh at me, and I laugh at you laughing at me,
laughing at the aching madness that paints the lines on my angry wretched face
I don't think this is poetry. Do you?
This is just a taste of my madness. I wonder what would poetry demand of me?
If I opened up a vein and let my blood flow down my chest and fill the cracks
in the sidewalk that spell out my name would that be more poetic?
If I shook and cried and begged while tears rolI down my face I wonder if that
would that reach you? Would that be poetry?
If I tore off a piece of my tortured soul and threw it at your restless feet,
would that be poetry? I wonder, if I could die of anguish right here before you,
would you call that poetic? But no, these things
would still be the angry ramblings of a madman thrilled with the anguish of my
chosen life and living alone with the pain with which it rewards me
And liking it more than you could ever know............Hey can you spare a quarter?
poem by Wilfred Owen Bitner
Added by Poetry Lover
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18 Definitions Of Poetry
1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime
poem by Shalom Freedman
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