Expressing an Emotion - The Art of Writing Poetry
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, finding meaning in few words. A melody of passion flowing out onto the pages, words that flow into each other and yet express the inner most thoughts and feelings of those who read the words. Writing poetry is a gift, a wonderful gift, being able to illuminate words so that they form a picture, express a feeling and share a thought in so few words. Unlike telling a story or writing a novel that explains every intricate detail a poem leaves you to draw your own conclusion. Writing poetry can be a healing process, putting down on paper all the emotions locked up inside ones head, a way of remembering and a way of re-living. Poetry has many forms from free verse to sonnet but all poems tell a story, a story of words, words wrapped around each other in such away that they flow together, locked in meaning. The poem below is titled "Playing" and every time I read this poem I cannot help but smile, as too will any mother reading this poem. See if you smile.
Running gently Screams of laughter Looking back I see you smile Golden hair Such bright blue eyes Once a baby In my arms
Laughing harder Running around Two years old I feel so proud Golden hair And eyes so blue You call "Mummy Mummy" Come play too
Copyright © Amanda Evans
Poetry can also portray emotions of hurt and betrayal, unrequited love, loss and great suffering. Just putting these feelings onto paper helps to unburden the mind and the heart. Off loading the grief, if only for a moment. The next two poems titled "Dreams" and "Suicide" display emotions of loss and sorrow. They are a complete contrast to the above poem "Playing" filled with laughter and happiness.
Crystal moons And dancing stars Images of place So near yet so far Staring for hours As the night passes by My life at a standstill I painfully cry No grand illusions No place to go Destined to stay here This I now know Lost are the dreams You and me side by side Gone now forever With you they died
Copyright © Amanda Evans
The power to suppress The pain and the loss The tears and the sadness The grief inside Lying there Dormant Sleep please, oh sleep The memories suppressed No power to deal With the pain that you caused The gap no one can fill Your selfish act Leaves me broken Afraid to love Afraid to live Through suppression I survive Suicide not only killed you
Copyright © Amanda Evans
Many of the worlds great poets wrote about loss and pain, Shakespeare's Sonnets spoke of love "Shall I compare thee to a Summer's Day" and Emily Dickinson's poetry was about death "Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me", all contained great emotions and sadness that could be felt by the reader. Having the ability to express yourself with poetry is an exceptional gift, one that should be embraced and nurtured. The internet provides a vast amount of poetry sites where you can submit your poetry for critique and review. You can join workshops and receive expert help and advice or even help others. There are also numerous courses available via distance learning that you can take. Learning as much as you can about the art of poetry, will greatly increase your chances of becoming a recognised poet.
Expressing emotions through the art of poetry can be very daunting. Poems will always be clear to the author it is only when the reader understands the meaning that it can truly be called a poem.
Amanda Evans is webmaster for http://www.amandawrites.com a website dedicated to helping others achieve their dreams of becoming writers. You can subscribe to the free monthly newsletter Writers Passion. Amanda Evans is also the author of the newly published "From Those Death Left Behind" a collection of poetry and stories describing the grief and emotions of a family that lost a member to suicide. This book can be purchased at http://www.lulu.com/content/120733
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Slam poetry competition offers opportunity for teens' voices to be heard - Milwaukee Neighborhood News Service
You cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved.
Find the Magic
FIND the MAGICFind the Magic As you release old bondage Come out of hiding And see the starsFind the Magic As you expose the pain Let the tears flow And find beauty in your bodyFind the Magic As you scream from the beating Run from the threats And feel the warmth of a hugFind the Magic As the little girl is silenced Told she is too smart for her own good And she finds her place of honor as she speaks her mindFind the Magic As the ghosts creep into dream Haunt your daily life And you meet them at the crossroads and move onFind the Magic As you drift out of your body, avoiding the anger Observe the separation And you join the body temple once again to rejoice in this unique wonderFind the Magic As you listen to the conflicts and Watch in horror And emerge from the water whole and beautiful in a rainbow of colorsFind the Magic, For you are whole once again© 2004 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is an researcher, teacher and author. Contact her through her web site http://www.
Three Poems [Lima; Judges and Evils Creation]
1.Evil's CreationThou knowith evil clings To tender peace-; Nor does it heed one's drowsy Un-enthralled grief?But softly it darkens Twilight's dunes-; With sprinkling shadows Straight from the moon.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
In this modern age of technology, busy lifestyles, and obsession with consumerism have taken a lot of the romance and love out of our lives. The Internet has become a medium to connect with people as everyone is finding it a lot harder to meet one another in the 'real' world.
My hero, my best friend, my Grannio (a.k.a my Grandmother)
She raised me like I was her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.She loved me like nobody else has ever loved me in my life.
So many looked to you for inspiration,Unlikely hero for the wheelchair nation.Proudly you fought and proudly you believed,Everyone loved you Christopher Reeve.
A Death in Cajamarca, Peru (Atahualpa, in Cajamarca ((in English and Spanish))
The Epic Poem:A Death in Cajamarca, Peru [Atahualpa, in Cajamarca]Advance: This is a version, not a translation of any kind, on the incarceration and death of Atahualpa the Inca King of the Inca Empire, in the 16th century (Peru).Atahualpa, enduring in Cajamarca Greeted by De Soto, his free friend from Spain! "Be Calm! These times will be tolerant to you.
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To face God's grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig today? In the forest of your head,So-: Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the crazed eyes of death.He summons you to his den- The devil and his wind,So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood stained brows He will take you to the edge.
Three Poems: Dona Leonors Revenge; The Old Moon; Common Sides [All in Spanish/all in English]
1) Dońa Leonor's Revenge [1627 AD]Rafael Ortiz's fate Was on the plate Of Dońa Leonor'sWhen she arrived In Lima, Peru; To taste revengeFor the beheading Of her husband. And so the plot?was now played out (in an alleyway) As she gutted her trout!In SpanishTranslated by Nancy PenalozaLa leyenda de: La venganza de dońa Leonor (1627 después de cristo)El destino de Rafael Ortiz Estaba sobre el plato De dońa Leonor.
Asha of Darfur [A poem with a commentary by the author]
Asha of DarfurCry, cry-oh little Darfur woman For your sister Janjaweed- [in Sudan's merciless region-who was raped to death); Where rape and death run ramped;And Asha prays the Arabs don't' hear Here sobbing little black tears? ?in fear she will be chained to a bedIn Darfur, by the insidious justice Of the Arabs, who run ramped?Ah, yes! In Darfur you've guessed, It is not a crime to raped and arrested; By the very one who raped, and terrorizedYou; it is the conquest?Satan's ribs!..
Two Poems: Boyhood, and Old Age [with a note on style]
BoyhoodOh me! Thy glorious days have flown! I mealy noticed, now they're gone, How quickly passed the flowers! Time does not stop youth's bells; It was like I was in a spell, And my face now shows the hours!Ah yes! My youthful past days, Still lively in my golden age, When all was quick and new Now wrapped in pictures and books, And friends and family were all I knew And love was shown by friendly looks!#741 6/26/05Old AgeThey stop by to see me now To find what's old and new, They peer into my-everything, And criticize my views; They tell me what I should like, And that I should be grieved-These are my fragile friends That takes the strongest liberties?I mean to take the buzzer off; And put the phone outside the door; In vain I speak to tell them why -I shan't live here anymore!#742 6/26/05A note on Style: some people ask, "What style of poetry to you like the best?" I can never answer that question; it is open-ended to me. If I feel like breaking free from tradition as in the poem of: "Old Age," so be it; and if I feel traditional verse, a stricter formal pattern should be used, as in "Boyhood," and can contribute richly to the poem, so it is.
Publishing Your Poetry
If you are serious about seeing your work published by reputable publishers, there are a few points you should consider. Firstly and most obviously, you need to determine if you have poetry worth publishing.
Two Poems: Black Poncho, and Spirits of de Copan [in English and Spanish]
English Version12) Black Poncho(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)Lost in the grottos of Peru- By the hills of Huancayo Black Poncho was given A treasure of gold?; By none other than, Demonic goblins!?in the form of scorching fruit; Hence, Black Poncho fooled The goblins of oldBy using his poncho to pull The sizzling golden fruit Through the Andes to Lima, Peru!?Henceforward, he was swindled By a jeweler of dire repute. Thus, his life changed (as so often they do); And now he lives with: Thirty-five dogs, on San Cosme Hill.
Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up trying to win the hearts of the many-. Throw the meat-balls against the wall, stop, stop!! Trying to make them spin, like God did in the heavens!Sexual longings-a pathway to anger and rage- Turn the page to the cheap hotels, turn the page Give it a pathway to run, tell your friends, they've won.
Three Love Poems [all wicked]
Advance: Mr. Dennis Siluk's poetry can have its fire-hearted twists: as with 'Lovers'.
Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Apoplectic Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their flaming nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; - Then galloped away, Against pale faces!..
Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's RimIt still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim- Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a wooden frame Adjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lamps Hanging from old beams and shade?the wooden frame Her footing caught the beams, as she had fallen onto it Alone, she watched the forenoon, climbing around her A drifter woman, marked by life, and slanting dreams With appearance of hurt and molded muscle on her face Her figure etched against the wooden frame, She tried to jump, and lost her balance, hanging like a bird Now sipping the gloom in the ledge and shattered hopes She yielded before the sluggish advance of sunset Blood dripped, with her dying darkness And a crimson moon hurled a flame across The shadowy clouds, burning throughout the sky The tormented sky above her?Crossing the valley's floor her eye gripped it Rocky images, highest points Thrusting herself up boldly from to the ledge The painted morning blushed over the rim Her brows and nose, face against the granite stone Massive injuries was taking form, Her silhouette floating so indolently across the sun It was too great a task-to die alone?she wished now She had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go. Too much for any woman in a lost world Out of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alas Mute and protesting against life's uselessness A narrow path lay below her slender body Between death and attainment, a careless foot The rocks beneath her weakening, she plunged Plunged to her death, in the carving hands of the valley Thinking of it, as she fell, thinking with a smiled, Saying, looking up-dead before her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!' When they found her, her face was unafraid of falling.
I Shall Wait...
I Shall Wait..
Savage Nature: The Life of Ted Hughes
One of the most important poets of the post-war period, Edward James Hughes (1930-1998), was drawn towards the primitive. He was enchanted by the beauty of the natural world, frequently portraying its cruel and savage temperament in his work as a reflection of his own personal suffering and mystical beliefs - convinced that modern man had lost touch with the primordial side of his nature.
Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they say When don Simon Bolivar Slept in the arms of beautiful -Luisa Crober (of Jamaica); thus an Assassin missed his mark When he stabbed Major Amestoy Sleeping in the dark In Bolivar's hammock!.
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