Tag Archives: poem

A Little Bird Told Me


*I often go back and read my poems and revise them to reflect my current sentiments about a topic. The little bird represents so many things. It is in a way a deity of sorts, a messenger fro the universe to help us make sense of  tragedy and violence. Perhaps I am also a dreamer. But I like to think that there is hope for humanity. 

 

 

A little bird told me

“Listen only to what wise people have to say.”

It spoke to me In a very alarming way.

 

I have always listened carefully to those I thought were very smart.

But all I heard was actually a lot of stupid stuff.

I have always tried the dodge the darts,

poisoned with hatred, bigotry and words that were really rough.

I pleaded with the universe to help stop the madness,

and declared enough is enough.

I turned to the little bird and explained my confusion,

But It flew away suddenly

as if to say,

What did you expect from your delusion?

 

Sadly, even birds seem to understand what is going on today.

They know about disrespect

and I think they even get

the meaning of reject.

I am watching for that little bird to come back to me.

The little bird that told me

“Listen only to what wise people have to say“

 

A Poem A Day #5


What is your Love Philosophy? I will share my poem later this month.

Love’s Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the Ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle,

Why not I with thine?-

 

See the mountains kiss high Heaven

and the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

and the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

if thou kiss not me?

 

Persey Bysshe Shelley, Romantic Poet

 

Percy Bysshe Shelley was born 4 August 1792 at Field Place, near Horsham, Sussex, England. The eldest son of Timothy and Elizabeth Shelley, he stood in line to inherit his grandfather’s considerable estate and a seat in Parilament. He attended Eton College, where he began writing poetry, and went on to Oxford University. His first publication was a Gothic novel, Zastrozzi (1810), in which he voiced his own heretical and atheistic opinions through the villain Zastrozzi. After less than a year at Oxford, he was expelled for writing and circulating a pamphlet promoting atheism.

“In the slightly more than four years before his death in a boat accident, Shelley published seven further volumes of poetry: Rosalind and Helen (which included “Julian and Maddalo” and “Lines Written among the Euganean Hills“) (1819); The CenciPrometheus Unbound; with Other Poems (which included “The Cloud” and his “Ode to the West Wind”); and Oedipus Tyrannus; or, Swellfoot the Tyrant, a satirical drama on the trial for adultery of Queen Caroline which was quickly suppressed (1820); Epipsychidion and Adonais: subtitled “An Elegy on the Death of John Keats” (1821); and Hellas (1822). Many other poems were left in notebooks, some (like the “Letter to Maria Gisborne” and “The Witch of Atlas,” both dating from 1820, and “The Triumph of Life,” left unfinished in 1822, were published among the Posthumous Poems put together by Mary in 1824. Still others (like the satire on Wordsworth, Peter Bell the Third) were held back, only to appear in her full-scale edition of her husband’s poetry published in 1839. His numerous prose works, such as the “Defence of Poetry” and his translation of Plato’s Symposium were brought out a year later, in 1840.

Shelley drowned in the Mediterranean Sea on 8 July 1822. After his body washed ashore near Viareggio, it was cremated according to the dictates of Italian law. His ashes were buried in the Protestant Cemetery (actually, Cimitero Acattolico or non-Catholic Cemetery) in Rome. In 1854, three years after Mary’s death a monument was erected in memory of both the Shelleys.”

*http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/PShelley/bio.html

 

what is a poem?


DSC_0150

A poem is defined as expressive language. It is an art form that allows for free verse. Poems are musical and rhythmic and uses sounds and imagery to convey meaning. Poems use metaphors and similes and they can create a very intimate conversation between the poet and the reader.

The following is a poem about poems.

Poems are words a poet collects

to convey messages hard to forget

or to tell a truth so there are no regrets.

Poems are stored in the heart and soul

of poets waiting for their muses to call

Poems flow like rivers through the mind

and words can be sweet and sometimes unkind

And if there is a cause

that needs to be fought

A poem can manage

and never be caught

without a deep thought

to stimulate thinking

elevate the spirit,

and comfort the soul.

 

Poemattic: Poetry and Art for the Soul

Poetry Poetry (Photo credit: V. H. Hammer)

A poem is defined as expressive language. It is an art form that allows for free verse. Poems are musical and rhythmic and uses sounds and imagery to convey meaning. Poems use metaphors and similes and they can create a very intimate conversation between the poet and the reader.

The following is a poem about poems.

Poems are words a poet collects

to convey messages hard to forget

or to tell a truth so there are no regrets.

Poems are stored in the heart and soul

of poets waiting for their muses to call

Poems flow like rivers through the mind

and words can be sweet and sometimes unkind

And if there is a cause

that needs to be fought

A poem can manage

and never be caught

without a deep thought

to stimulate thinking

elevate the spirit,

and comfort the soul.

View original post 96 more words

A Poem for A Mime


The french mime Jyjou* in typical mime's posit...

The french mime Jyjou* in typical mime’s positions inspired by the french Etienne Decroux’s mime technique. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

I met a mime the other day.

He looked into my soul as I prayed,

and watched me very carefully

to find out how I used to be

before my heart turned cold.

He mimicked me so perfectly

the tears he shed were mine

he knew my heart was broken

when he looked into my eyes.

A mime can tell

when nothing’s well;

and happiness flees the body

Mimes create the illusion

and can become almost anybody.

I met a mime the other day

who knew what not to say

he used his hands and facial gestures

to tell me anyway.

I ended up with a smile on my face

and got the message

loud and clear

in a universal language

I learned that I am not to fear.

My mime made sure I saw myself

in His image to rebuild my self-esteem

But what I did not know until today

the mime I met the other day

was just visiting my dream.

Melba Christie 2013

 

 

 

 

В один прекрасный день,попробовать себя мне в ...

В один прекрасный день,попробовать себя мне в роли мима предложили и я себя согласил) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Remembered


Remembered

 

How do you want to be remembered?  asked the poet

There were three poets, one doctor and two teachers present to respond to the poet’s question.

Finally after a long silence and obvious pondering the doctor says, “I want to be remembered  as someone who took my oath seriously.

One poet said, ” I want to be remembered as a poet who wanted to promote peace.”

The other poet said, “I will be remembered as the king of the couplet.”

The remaining poet said, ” I hope people will remember me as the simple poet.”

Then the two teachers looked at each other politely and gestured one another to speak first.

After a few seconds one teacher speaks. “I want to be remembered for my patience,” she said.

The other teacher remains pensive for a few more seconds. She says, “I hope that the students I was not able to reach somehow know that

I am deeply sorry I was not able to reach them. I hope they finally know that my heart-felt their pain and that I wished I could have been a

better teacher to them.”

A few weeks ensued and the poet learns that the teacher had passed away. He was so moved by what she said that he decides to write her a

poem.

Here is the poem:

You made a mark

inside my heart

many years ago

removed my fears

and washed away my tears

 

you tried so hard

to make me see

and helped me to believe in me.

 

your love for poetry

inspired me to write poems

my rhyming thoughts

 

you did not see

the you you left in me.

You set me free with the poetry

you read so beautifully.

 

you thought I was not looking

you thought I was not listening

I hope you know

you could not have been a better teacher

you soothed my pain

and will remain

in my heart forever.

 

 

 

 

Nature’s Rage


 

 

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Once again
Nature‘s rage surges oceans
and waves cart-wheel along the shores.

Nature’s indignation
Tired of our ways
shakes the terrain
while the weather vane
warns and advises
that Sandy
(a name innately innocuous)
has been upgraded to a hurricane,
potential able to plunk down tons of rain
All bets are off at Atlantic City.
Mandate decrees
Towns evacuate
Giant oak trees may tumble
No one is ever ready for such rumble

Nature is disposition is unpredictable
and we need to heed its warning
and learn how to respect
I hope the perfect storm
Is not as damaging as the proverbial
Weather seems to expect.