Poetry Poems | Examples of Poems about Poetry

“Who is it about?” You. It’s always been you. For months. Worth more than gold, weighing less than mud are my thoughts. Months of downplaying, cast aside, thrown to the pigs. You. It always came back to you. With your silky hair, long and dark. Soft to the touch, like one would imagine a cloud's. Your...

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Good to you, good for you, good with you… All things I’ve always dreamt of being. But also all things I never will be. You need more than this… more than me. I stare at my ceiling and wonder what it could be… what WE could be. Nothing. I know that’s the real answer… Yet,...

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The sunrise paints the prairie gold, The breeze still hums that tune of old, Where once I’d ride with reins held tight, Now I rock through the hush of night. My boots sit still by the old back door, Dusty dreams from days before. The saddle waits on its wooden stand— But now I hold life in my hands. No roundup calls, no...

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Dark days have come and gone and I am still lingering on the lawn, long painful nights have robbed me of my sleep and sometimes it makes my spirit weep. I have already ran a thousand mile and the shadows moving in the sky understands my innate cry but the moment quickly fades away and...

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Sometimes I’m angry you left. That you gave up. That you weren’t strong enough to stay. The bitterness creeps in quietly, like a shadow I didn’t invite. But then I stop—because who am I to measure a pain I never lived? I never stood at the edge of whatever storm made jumping feel safer than...

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It was a tedious trek down the hill. The Sun was shrouded in darkness. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed. Knew I won’t be reaching home without getting wet. I longed for a shelter to be in. By accident, saw a small building a little away I thanked God and all my stars. Walking into it as fast as I could, Sat on a...

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If only wings all words would soar...too many anchors yet to endure. Knowing is maybe less important than living? Certainly we are not here, to teach God anything. We soak in our grief -- till the black robed thief returns us. Traveling more deeply in sometimes is the only way out. We travel and...

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[German Version] Wenn Gott seine Hand über das Land schwingt, wirft er Blautöne, gab er uns allen ein Skript zum Lesen, bei Kerzenlicht und silbernem Mond, wenn Engel weinen und Sterne fallen, wird der Dichter im Himmel über uns alle aufsteigen, wenn der Himmel grau wird, und all unsere Gefühle sich mit den Jahreszeiten ändern, ergreife einen Topf voll Gold, wenn Gottes Regenbögen seine Gründe...

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Dire Stait Vogan Aint been in self notting ham can't pure poured pig nostrils wont chiff hanger choths bear kuddles shant carburetor trial alphalawn ain't all dentist parraish becon can't worms don’t have teeth width naw teeth I don’t eat 6/5/25 Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025© ...

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S/he is controversially counter-cultural And yet, MotherEartha defensively claims, not so: We grow trans-regenerational transubstantiating substances and subjects to integrate more sacredly organic Positive passions re-connecting re-membered past peak pleasures restoring universal EarthJustice and unitarian EarthMother peace. I stand before you today not to bury every conservative re-ligion but to praise our natural SunGod history. Rising from East and setting West indigenous mystery traditions, re-ligiously enlightening experience has always defended human longing to more resiliently remain in...

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I am determined to write poems about the poems I’ve already created to alleviate my stress. I vividly recall my first piece about an internet night stalker, who claimed I was like a "dessert rose"—a low-maintenance succulent that made men like him lose sleep over me. In return, they sought redemption, ending their sentences with...

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Sping is where it all begins Before the universe came on the scene Then shortly the summer appears And drive out all the fear The mornings were fresh and clean And clean air from far and near Floats gentle on the stream And the ingredients from the sun Soaked my flesh with its heavenly breath And the pipes of sorrow quickly fade away And...

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. ohh yeah i can see...

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There is music in the silence, in the rest of unheard notes. That is where I hold my breath. Where the universe spins out its code for me to read. I watch as the unfallen sky reveals her mystery. Language unfolds in choreography, dancing between each blink of intention. But I have questions If time...

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