Poetry in a Nutshell

Poetry is more than just Rhyming and Prose that is in Meters and verse. It is an art form. It is something that can not be judged by its cover and can not be criticized to the point where it just sucks. Poetry is about expression. Poetry expresses the way we feel on a certain subject through imagery and other senses. It helps us deal with our daily problems, be it good or bad.

The emotion which is put within the poem brings it Life. A poem without emotion is not a poem at all but simply Prose. Poetry is what makes us feel happy or sad, mad or gleeful, loving or broken hearted. Poetry is Life on paper. It does not need to be of a certain subject or even Rhyme.

Poetry is Poetry. It has its own mind. If it flows good if not... it needs work. The rules can be bent but not broken. Our Life is our Life and no one can tell us what we have been through but ourselves. We know best not some stranger reading our Poems. Our Poetry is our Life, not what someone says.

Rhyming in Poetry is not always the best way to express yourself. Rhyming actually takes away many words that could have been used. If you try to Rhyme it cuts your dictionary into little pieces. It doesn't need to be this way, choose flow over Rhyme.

As a result of this, Poetry is defined as a way of putting flowing words together in meter and verse to show emotion or tell a story.

Poetry in a Nutshell is written by Gary R. Hess, author and owner of Famous Poems -- a haven for poets.

Author:: Gary Hess
Keywords:: Poetry,Poems,Rhyming,Rhyme,Life,Writing,Writers,Prose,Meters,Line,Stanzas
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Two Poems Written During Recovery

Since my wife and I are moving, or preparing to move, weve been going through our things as most people must, to prepare for the new location, and in doing so, I found two poems, ones I wrote in 1990, now 15-years old, never published, and so Id like to publish them today. I was a heavy drinker up to 1984 (some twenty years drinking), when I quite, and so these poems must have something to do with it, a slight reflection perhaps. They were never numbered, as I have done in the past to most of my poems, but I assume they would be around #125 and #126, or so, out of #760. I did not have a name for either of them, so I shall name them accordinglynow:

1) Hells Taverns

Do not die Not now, not yet Your evil eye will not be blessed

And in hell youll wake

To wild beasts; thus, Do not die Not yet

Only to wake to a

Icy and burning sweat;

Wait my friend

Tell me you wont die To Taverns of booze

Only to wake and find

You are dead, dead Laying flat in hells Taverns!

#126 1990

2) Ballade of a Recovering Drunk

Peace of mind in a world of hunter and foe Is not possible That rots like clay. Wisdomis writing a book, For Philosopher and God And not reading it

#125 1990

Dennis Siluk web site http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
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Winter Poems of Minnesota (four poems)(Now in Spanish and English)

1) Tone of Minnesota

There are the woods, where time has treaded
This is Minnesota, here where the winds talk and
Rise on the ancient rivers; where the virgin woods
Nurtures the autumn leaves and winter roots

The land of many lakes where the skies shout,
Yell the greatness of the passing years:
Reflect the green of the woods wild paradise.
The pioneers, the seeds that brought life here;

here, is where the deer and elk have fed,
Where huge log cabins, were build by men.
Where there were many tribes of ruling Indians.
Here came the annals of an unborn state

Whose peoples fought for destinies and dreams?
Who made their fate; the Minnesotans,
Their character now reckoned, great!...

#935 12/1/05

2)The Old Heath

(Minnesota Winter)

Winter seems to me more nostalgic

Now that Im aging with gray;
But I always liked the fire

Of a heath (a warm fireplace).

Fl ames that flicker, doors that groan

Windows that rattle,
And warm: warm old bones,

Of a Heath (a warm fireplace).

I like the gleam of the heath

The spell, upon the room,
I always seem to drift a little

By the fireplace of the room.

Winter seems to me more nostalgic

Flames that flicker, doors that groan
I like the gleam of the heath

Now that Im growing old!...

#938 12/2/05

3)Comin O Winter

(In Minnesota)

Lord! Its good to feel the comin o winter

Not Spring!
To vision the furrows of snow drifting

Around my cold, cold feet!
See the winters harsh banks start to

Grow, grow, grow
Hear the flicker of the birds heading

Down south!...
Boy! Its great to feel the comin of

Winter not Spring!

(Because I wont be here! Ill be

Down south, where its warm!!)

#936 12/1/05

4)Th Ol Mississipp i

(A Minnesota Poem)

Thats th ol Mississippi River
Ripplin, dimplin down Minnesota.
Down south shes kind of muddy,
But up here shes like a Queen!
Wanting to play a moody scene!
Peaceful now she looks; boilin

She can be
And thats why I live in St. Paul

Where shes thin and her wit
Is a bit lean!
But shes wise and she fool us
Now and thenup around the
ol Minnesota bends.

#837 12/1/2005

In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza

Poemas De invierno

- de Minnesota

1) Colorido de Minnesota

Hay bosques, donde el tiempo tiene pisadas-
Esto es Minnesota, aqu donde los vientos hablan y
Nacen sobre los ros antiguos; donde los bosques vrgenes
Nutren las hojas de otoo y races de invierno

La tierra de muchos lagos donde el grito de los cielos,
Gritan la grandeza de los aos que pasan:
Reflejando el verdor del paraso salvaje de madera.

Los pi oneros, las semillas que trajeron la vida aqu;

Aqu, es donde el ciervo y el alce tienen alimento,
Donde enormes cabaas de tronco, fueron construidos por hombres.
Donde haba muchas tribus de indios dirigentes.
De aqu vinieron las memorias de un estado no nacido

Que pueblos lucharon por destinos y sueos?
Quien hizo el destino; del Minnesotano,
Su carcter ahora bien considerado!...,
*935 12/1/05

2) El Viejo Brezal
(Invierno de Minnesota)

El invierno me parece ms nostlgico
Ahora que envejezco con el color gris;
Pero siempre me gustaba el fuego
De un brezal (una chimenea caliente).

Las llamas que parpadean, puertas que gimen
Ventanas que repiquetean,
Y calientes: calientes huesos viejos,
De un Brezal (una chimenea caliente).

Me gusta el destello del brezal
El pronunciamiento, sobre el cuarto,
Siempre parezco ir un poco a la deriva
Por la chimenea del cuarto.

El invierno me parece ms nostlgico
Llamas que parpadean, puertas que gimen
Me gusta el destello del brezal

Ahora que envejezco!...
*938 12/2/05

3) La llegada del invierno
(En Minnesota)

Seor! Est bien sentir la llegada del invierno
No la Primavera!
La visin de los surcos de nieve amontonados
Por mis fros, fros pies!
Mirar las orillas speras del invierno comenzar a
Crecer, crecer, crecer
Or el aleteo de los pjaros dirigindose
Abajo al sur!...
Muchacho! Es agradable sentir la llegada del
Invierno no la Primavera!

(Por que no estar aqu! Estar
Abajo en el sur, dnde es caliente!)
*936 12/1/05

4) El viejo Mississippi
(Un Poema de Minnesota)

Este es el viejo Ro Mississippi
Ondulando, turbio bajo Minnesota.
Sur abajo ella es algo fangosa,
Pero aqu arriba ella parece una Reina!
Deseando jugar una escena caprichosa!
Ahora pac ficamente bella; hirviendo
Ella puede estar
Y es por eso que vivo en Saint Paul
Dnde ella es clara y su ingenio
Es poco difcil!
Pero ella es sabia y ella nos engaa
Ahora y entoncesarriba alrededor del
-viejo Minnesota encurvado.
*837 12/1/2005

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
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My Final Defeat Fixed Competition

She probably can't remember
and I know I can never forget...
the first time I saw her like that
I was only nine years-old
not naive by any stretch
having seen my share of tragedy-
my parent's bitter battles in my first five years of Life
then the inevitable end of their marriage
but not before 700 days of devastation called divorce
that destroyed dreams and deeply damaged hearts
I had no idea Life could get worse...

But it did -

The day I found her passed out cold on the Living room floor
I thought she was sleeping at first
In fact I swore she was just sound asleep
to my petrified little sister
whose big brown eyes screamed with fear
at the site of the Lifeless body of our mommy
slobber dribbling out of the corner of her mouth
soaking her cheek below the dirt of her eye makeup
that trickled down her sallow skin on a face
devoid of any expression...

Is mommy dead?
a little voice whimpered
my sister weeped

My gut said Yeah she's dead as a doornail

Thankfully my words said No No she's not dead
as I carried my trembling, tiny sibling upstairs
and tucked her in bed with my promise
that Mommy would wake up in the morning...
as I wondered What if she didn't?

Little did I know I would wonder again and again
for the next 20 years
who I would see when I came home from school...
my real mom - you know her - the sober, sophisticated lady -
or would I find that ugly, evil spirit
lurking within my mommy's body again?

I loathed that demon who called me nasty names
and didn't cook dinner or do laundry
I wanted to murder the monster that growled at me
slurring words, throwing things and
staggering through our house...

So confused, embarassed, shocked, and dazed
by how my mommy would really be two people

But I learned early -

Never ask questions...
about anything at all
Never tell...< BR>anyone - not a soul
Never complain about the awful monster
for fear that it would take my real mommy away forever
Never trust anyone or even my tomorrows...
since nobody ever knew if the evil demon would be back
Never feel anything...
because it was easier to become completely numb
than to endure the endless pain and loss day after day...

When I got older, I thought I could deal better
but looking back now I know I was wrong...
It didn't get easier, I just became paralyzed
behind the protective wall I built to be safe from her...

Nobody ever met the first boy I went on a date with
neither parent even knew his name
much less what kind of car I hopped into
or where we were supposed to be going...
Because my dad wasn't around and she was drunk
and I was ashamed, so I stood by the front door
waiting for Tommy's car to come down my street
and as soon as I saw it, I barged out the door
raced across the front porc h, skipped the steps,
barely letting my feet touch the curb before
I bounced into his Chevy with my gleaming smile
that everyone knew me for -

The radiant face with the perpetually beaming smile
that I faked so often, it almost felt real...
My cheerful facade created to disguise
my actual agony and untold twisted torture

Today at 30 years-old, I have perfected my mysterious mask
as I cower behind my forced, dazzling smile
and feigned nature of blissful peace and normalcy

Nobody ever gets even a glimpse
of the real me - tormented by childhood memories
tossing and turning in my bed every night,
haunted by frantic flashes of bad dreams,
reeling in faithless feelings, lingering self-doubt, desolate disbelief, hopelessly

searching...
for explanations, answers
to my questions that haven't changed in 20 years...

But anything close to understanding
seems to escape my emotional grasp
eternally eluding my ravished, raging mind
and sense of reason and logic...

I surrended myself to a continual, compulsive scramble
through a menacing maze of misconceptions
that I perpetuate with my naive expectations
for a miracle to magically reveal a meaningful response
to my endlessly, impossible questions...

If I could just find...
A solitary reason why
my mother has continued to choose Alcohol over me
for more than 25 years...
Or a single clue to explain how
I can compete for her Love when
my opponent is a Lifeless, speechless, emotionless
loyal bottle of vodka...

Resource Box - Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote Lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - Love, friendship, Children, inspiration, success, wisdom, Family, Life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art8364.asp

Author:: Daniell e Hollister
Keywords:: Poetry, Poems, Mothers, Alcohol, Children, Life, Family, Love, Living, Poem
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Become A Poet In Ten Minutes

Have you ever sat there staring at the paper, ready to write, but unsure where to begin? Want a solution that will overcome even the worst writer's block? Anyone can start Writing Poetry today using a few simple techniques.

One, two, ...?

Did you say or think three when you saw the above? If not, you certainly would when I asked you to fill in the blank. Your mind is a powerful machine that recognises or creates patterns. To make this work for you as a poet, you simply have to lay out the materials in an implied pattern, and let your mind do its thing.

The materials, in this case, of course, are words or ideas. So let's round up some materials for an example. If you want to write a Poem about thunderstorms, you might start by Writing down relevant words, and then choose the more evocative ones: flash, blowing, rumble, night, deadly and rain, perhaps.

Now you set the pattern. In this case, we'll write a four-line Poem, using one of our words in each line. We'll only decide if we want a ryming Poem after we start. This is what I came up with after five minutes:

Rain stands still in the sky

Trees dance as in a painting

In a flash it is here and gone

And night grumbles at being revealed

It doesn't matter if most aren't good Poems. You just have to write a lot of them, and then work on re-Writing the ones with potential. With a little practice, you can write a dozen Poems in an hour, then pick out the gems. My wife has had Poetry published using Deal-a-Poem, a game we created based on this technique, so we know that it works, and it's fun as well.

More Tips For Fast Poetry

The technique above works because when your mind focuses on a word with the intent to use it in a line, it is stimulated into action. It wants to find the pattern - or create it. To make this work even better, try the following:

1. Start with words that are evocative and metaphorically rich. You'll be more inspired and probably write a richer Poem with howled, torn open, and festering, than with said, broken, and rotten.

2. Use this or any other technique as a starting point only. If you have a great line already in mind, don't force one of the words from your list into it. If a Poem starts to write itself, and becomes ten six-line verses, forget about the technique. Treat it as a tool to be used when you need it.

3. Don't sit there waiting for inspiration . Write anything NOW. Start with any topic, or even random words. The surest way to get inspired in your Poetry is to start Writing a Poem.

Steve Gillman has been playing with Poetry for thirty years. He and his wife Ana created the game Deal-A-Poem, which can be accessed for free at: http://www.dealaPoem.com

Author:: Steven Gillman
Keywords:: Poetry,Poem,Poems,Writing
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A Conjugal Curse

She craves but to savor a tender Lovers` kiss,
and sense the rush of rapture it could bring;
Masked behind the cloak of marital bliss
Unfettered fervor latent lay below a wedding ring.

After the dowry came a deluge of deepening disturb
In-laws enter with contrived smiles ready to unfold
Her starving hearts feelings she can never curb
Her frozen gaze reveals a million truths untold

Her ravenous eyes are famished
The honeymoon has vanished
A thorny contract for life of ill-design
From whose fate she cannot resign

Her yearning lips and a throbbing heart need ignition
Ill-begotten in-laws perform a fake rendition
From fiery claws a smoke is bellowing
If only she could get rid of them with a magic spell
Existences affliction may become a bearable living hell

Eyes utter the words that her husband is blinded to tell
A suppressed mind conceals what the spirit knows too well< br> Smiles on her lips disperse the glower of a hearts desire
Laughter on the lips spread the tears that eyes conspire

Oh, chaste wither away! And set her Lust free--
held incarcerated, long ago a romance ceased to be
to whisper a hymn of Infidelity,

Making Love to another spiced her spirit, tickled her soul
Veiled passions, secreted attractions taking on their toll
A forbidden conjugal intrusion
Vows from an altar mere rhetorical illusion
Yesterdays torment of a paranoid delusion

Till death do us part, for better or for worse?
Ringing hollow promises echoing a nuptial curse
He brings home the living. He controls the purse
Alone, this naked jewel shivering of cold
No one to have. No one to hold.

Woman might be fickle; yes this is true
she`ll eavesdrop on her heart to justify
the Lusting for a flame to flicker anew
of a poignant passion she can`t deny.

Vows have anchored and subjugated many stormy seas,
She`d steer them all away for feelings just like these.

Ozer Khalid has trekked the 4 continents of our globe and has dabbled in investment banking, the law, enterprise and events management. Ozer is an avid linguist, traveller, cineaste, and horse-back rider.

Author:: Ozer Khalid
Keywords:: Ozer, Khalid, Love, Anger, Marriage, Divorce, Poem, Infidelity, Lust,
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Ghandi the Great Liberator

Ghandi the great
Inferiority found no place in you
By passive resistance
Non-cooperation
Civil disobedience
Holding to the higher law
The sanctity of human life
The dignity of the individual
Honoring the teachings of Jesus
Truth and Firmness
Inward strength
Outward humility
Overthrowing the cast system
Respecting each persons dignity
Fighting for equality
Obtaining governmental concessions
For Indians in South Africa
You gained recognition
Abolishing the poll tax
Perseveringly never regressing
Continually pressing
Arranging demonstrations
Opposing colonial masters
Controlling your country
Indians in public office governmentally
Resigned and boycotted
Children were removed
From British run school s
Indians sat and blocked the streets
Not cowering
To the beatings of British police
Soon Ghandi from prison was released
The revolutionary and leader
Would not be appeased
Peaceably resisting
Without violence
Though the British massacred Indians
At Amritsar, Punjab mercilessly
You continued fearlessly
Bringing reforms throughout society
Independence economically
Self-rulership a necessity
To lift your people
Out of poverty
The international symbol
Of a free India
Ghandi the beloved liberator
You remained ever so humble
Dressing in the lowliest Indian garments
Surviving on vegetables, fruit, and milk
Your didnt require costly silk
Revered by your people as a saint
Mahatma (great-souled) Ghandi
You enlightened the world to see
That we can truly live peaceably
Refrain from hostility
Advocate our causes passionately
Always embrace purity
Love all mankind w holeheartedly
Such a life of serving humanity
Brought you executive authority
To promote righteousness
Throughout your beloved country
Propagating communal unity
Concern and charity
Denying yourself when need be
To display public disapproval
That freedom might come to the oppressed
Undertaking a fast unto death
As your heart burned for justice
To improve the status of the Untouchables
You dedicated yourself to eradicate
The injustices of the caste system
Primarily untouchability
Your fasts forced reforms
Modified autocratic rules
Intervened politically repeatedly
Putting all on hold
Until your approval was told
Rejecting compromises
You did not sell your soul
Settling not for partial victories
You sought the whole
Complete liberation
Independence of your homeland
Ghandi youre a brave man
Sincere and strong
Steadfastly opposing
The partitioning of India
Pursuing internal peace
Between Muslims and Hindus
A religious fanatic
Preferring war
Foolishly killed you
Obviously unaware
Of what your death would do
Bringing peace betwee
India and Pakistan
Nevertheless your death Ghandi
Was an international catastrophe
Yet a platform it prepared for thee
To inspire nonviolent movements
And peaceful activism globally
Therefore let the Truth
March on peacefully!

Paul is a popular worldwide keynote speaker, mediator, peace-maker conquering conflicts, creative consultant, minister, liberator and dream-maker.

Paul's compassion for people & passion to travel has taken him to over 50 countries of the world where he has had a tremendous impact. Paul has served in many war-torn, impoverished and tsunami stricken regions of the earth.

Paul has traveled throughout India, having visited the country 5 times and lived there 9 months. His organization Dream-Maker Inc. is b uilding dreams, breaking limitations and reviving nations. Paul's teachings touch, transcend barriers that divide and transform individuals and organizations.

Paul's Breakthrough Seminars inspire, revive, awaken, impregnate with purpose, impart the fire of desire, catapult people into a new level of self-awareness, facilitate destiny discovery and dream fulfillment.

Contact Paul to minister, speak at your event or for life coaching: RevivingNations@yahoo.com 407-284-1705, 407-967-7553.

For additional info: http://www.DreamMakerMinistries.com, http://www.CreativeCommunications.TV

Author:: Paul Davis
Keywords:: Ghandi the Great Liberator,peaceful activism,nonviolent resistance,civil disobedience,Truth,Firmness
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