It's quite extraordinary -
We don’t sweat because it’s hot.
But possibly your idea of analysis greatly resembles a
dish of soup, or a sirloin of roast-beef.
I'm standing by the window communicating
with a lesser black-backed gull.
“The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That’s what poetry does.” — Allen Ginsberg”
What drives them to put pen to paper?
To be famous is that their caper?
The world to change?
Tell a story so strange?
Is it a more personal flaw?
Drawn the short straw?
Life made them feel dismay?
They have to live this way....
Prone to despair
Pull out their hair?
Caught in a landslide
Can't escape the ride...
They can analyse
Maybe even surprise
Put words to their feelings
They may even do healings
A pen you did choose
Your ideas more than clues
Why does a poet write
Because they can..... alright
why analyse
realise God
with eyes open
I am not so-called religious , but sure to be righteous,
Always trying to take right move at every step of my journey.
Righteousness is real pivot of my life to honour .
Whenever any hindrance embowers or blocks my path
I analyse in rational way how to get rid of problem ,
I venture always keeping keen eye pointing righteousness.
I can neither compromise nor forgive obvious crime.
My sense of righteousness always guides me to act ruthless.
Noble kindness fails to deviate me from my strict decision.
My confidence is always associated with righteousness.
To act righteous, courage is the most important factor.
My strict moral principle is the base of righteousness.
The Sun shines bright on our planet in despair
Wrapped in rags called turmoil, worn beyond repair
A battle tearing the soul from great Mother Earth
It’s inhabitants at odds to prove status and worth
Hemorrhage must stop and wounds to heal
Scabbing over again then scratched to reveal
That mankind is not worthy to manage such place
Only capable of abusing and leaving much trace
Of a thoughtless generation lining pockets with greed
A legacy for those younger to analyse and heed
A new set of rules that must not repeat
Past history written with a story of defeat
The World is still bleeding and how will it stop?
cartwheels of energy
whirring, rotating
within each cell
as a whole looping form
an enigma we do not analyse
for it is what it is
an endless evolution
in divine entwined celebration
“This universe is differentiated into spheres, seven Swargas and seven Patalas.”
~ extract from ‘The Holy Science’
Brahman the absolute alone exists,
who by His will all the worlds manifests,
realms of contrast where delusion persists
until exhausted, soul’s ego lust rests,
renouncing forever earth bound conquests.
We need not analyse realms and domains.
Let’s focus instead on cleansing soul’s stains.
On a recent trip I was gone
but not for long
to Eastern Oregon
where I saw my first chukar
(a partridge-like bird pronounced 'chucker')
which in time
compelled me to analyse
and revise
an old and pleasant pheasant rhyme
give it the feathery touch
and in the end
regale my Oregonian friends
with a resounding recital
of...
'I'm not a chukar plucker
I'm a chukar plucker's son
and I'm only plucking chukars
'til the chukar plucker comes'
Above the crown chakra we sense,
a moist cauldron oozing with bliss
and as we breathe in love’s incense,
we’re bestowed Divine Mother’s kiss.
Though beyond boundary of skin,
as we are therein anointed,
with each breath we anew begin,
our attention single pointed.
Boundaries blur, nodes within stir,
conjoined as a collective whole,
with joyous heart pleased to concur,
with our newly ordained life role.
We analyse not boons of grace,
as steps toward God we retrace.
Off and on life to face some turmoil .
You cannot predict, how long it will last.
being a simple problem or coiled !
You need a tipping balance to adjust.
Proceed with vigorous running dynamic ,
in static stagnant state not to remain
primarily stay enthusiastic ,
yet a tipping balance, you must maintain.
You must always focus on your action
Run or rush or if needed to gallop.
Put full dedication, no objection .
Be alert ! You know when or how to stop !
Promptness is good, but don’t be impulsive
Never cross limits on your performance
Think, analyse and then act decisive.
Work hard, obeying a tipping balance.
Occasionally you may walk tip toe,
sometimes you are compelled to make haste,
yet matters little whether be fast or slow.
Each step demands tipping balance at best.
Sometimes I just like being alone
Away from other humans
Just be on my own
Nobody there to analyse
No-one to judge
Or criticise
Only me to please
No catering to another
Trying to appease
Nobody to entertain
No awkward or negative mood
Nothing to explain
No-one making the atmosphere tense
No Irritation
No false pretence
Sometimes I just like being alone….with me!
we have now known for a while
futile is our ego’s guile
for life as it’s manifest
is but a test in light jest
poised in the in between stage
where no fires of desire rage
as in but not of the world
we lie in cave of heart curled
all doings are done by God
who dwells in mind-body pod
thus as the false falls away
we see the truth clear as day
grazed by life’s offered surprise
there’s nothing to analyse
for all that is, is pure bliss
graced by Divine Mother’s kiss
I Wish~
I wish you had known l wrote poetry
Before you passed away
I wish you had read my poems
Before my saddest earth day
I Know~
I know you would have read each one of them
We would then discuss, laugh and analyse
I know you would have been proud
With a smile on your face or tears in your eyes
If Only~
If only my self belief had been stronger
It would not have taken me so long
If only is just“ if only”
Now you are gone
I Hope~
I hope you are able to read my poems from heaven
See my heart and soul written in black and white
I hope you know how much writing poetry means to me
As you look over me from heavens light
Does it Matter?
Does it matter today
If a cross stood high
On a hill
Two thousand years ago?
Does it matter today
If there
A man hung dying
In company with criminals?
To most,
Long years have faded fact
To history books
To lie like fragile threads
In ancient tapestries,
A mingled pattern
Of some fertile tale
Construed to build a church
On empty gullibility.
Self-freed,
Our media age
Needs no such creed,
No faith,
No God to reckon with,
No concept of beyond
To analyse and capture
By some smart device.
Our media age,
Itself held captive
On those screens of imagery,
Projecting violence
On a fragile world,
Disfiguring,
Slow-motioning to death
In the focus of a godless dream.
But a vacant cross
Still stands,
Calling lost sinners
To a life in glory!
" Affirmation without discipline is the beginning of delusion."
- Jim Rohn.
Affirmation without discipline
is the beginning of delusion.
Trying to fulfill ambition is fine,
but judge before taking decision.
Confidence is pivot of action.
Proceed in disciplined path to win.
Over confidence brings delusion.
'Don't act reckless, have patience ', I mean.
Analyse to chalk out your venture.
Control emotion and regulate
to access success in future.
Caution at every step : Formulate.
Always thoughtful, don't get desparate.
Approach cool not being aggressive.
Don't be foolhardy on needless haste.
In well planned manner, act decisive.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.