Writing Poetry Poems | Examples

Writing Poetry

Writing poetry is never easy.
Starting has always been hard.
Ideas rarely flow smoothly
Distractions leave the paper marred.

Thoughts confuse the writing
And never let me think.
Contradictions result from this
And drive me to the brink.

Meter and tone must be perfectly right
And rhyme must be even better.
“Proper Form” should be used,
On down to every letter.

The most difficult part of all
As some may quickly see,
Comes when trying to finish.
It is to end my poetry.

haiku

cat at my side
as I poem
a jungle of words

Writing A Haiku

     to write a haiku
here is what you need to do
     choose a nature scene

     a large thirsty moose
drinking from a flowing stream
     nature meets its needs

     count the syllables
you need for each of the lines
     five, seven, and five

     state your thought clearly
put nature on center stage
     now give it a try

Writing A Nonet Poem

I
will be
creating
a nonet poem
the reverse format
will be my example
in forty-five syllables
this line will have eight syllables
and the final line, nine syllables.

Writing Poetry

Poems may be simple, try writing a rhyme,
add some images to make it sublime.
Simple words may make meaningful phrases,
difficult words can turn into mazes.

You could write a Limerick, just for fun, 
don’t forget a surprise before you’re done.
Write a nice Haiku, a scene of nature,
like flowing mountain streams with water pure.

A Sonnet would be nice before you’re through,
three verses of four, the last one is two.
Choose your own rhyme scheme, the last two must rhyme,
here’s my last two to summarize this time.

By writing a poem, you’re given a way,
to share with others what you have to say.

Gathering of Poets

The first Wednesday of the month
we sit around the table and share
poems written with care and revised.
We take in their shapes and forms
and read between the lines.
We gasp with wonder about creations
and search for other words
to make each verse stronger.
Each of us has written volumes by now
the lives we shared month-by-month.
A retired lawyer has returned
from his vacation in Spain
and I’m back from four years
of traveling through the Midwest for work.
The sights shape nuances of our pieces.
Each of us takes the time allowed to read
and get feedback   but time slips from our fingers.
At eight PM, the library closes.
Our conversations continue in the hallways
and as we move toward the stairs.
I take in the sight of paintings and stop
when I see the shadow of the group’s founder
on the wall. She nods at me.

AN ODE TO THE ART OF WRITING POETRY

You got me to a bower of mulberry blue,
And made me stick to it like with a glue,
You gave me the joy of expressing the self,
And filled with the books of joy - My shelf.

When I write you I feel I am in heaven,
And I won't be harmed even by the black raven,
You gave me joy and made me pine,
For writing you and craving for you time and again-
Like a glass jar of sweet red wine.

Eight Years Writing Poetry is Not Enough

I discovered www.poetrysoup which lists styles of poetry
This site shows you examples of haiku, senryu, alliteration, monorhyme
Diminished hexaverse, acroustic, shape poems, rhyme, and much more
The first day I discovered this site I wrote eight poems; all a different style

By the time I branched out to www.allpoetry, I was a bit more confident
I believe that now I know a teensy tiny bit about what poetry is.
Delving into this art for eight years, has not been nearly enough
There is so much to learn; I feel I barely know anything yet.

Here is what I do know. It is fun for me to write every day.
I set a daily goal of ten poems; I usually make this goal.
Have made this goal for four years.
I like sharing my poems, and appreciate every comment.

As a thank you to others, I hold six poetry contests simultaneously.
I would hold twelve, but we are limited to only six.
A thesaurus and scientific fact book for children are my references.
If I run out of ideas I say “what if” and create outrageous scenarios.
I love writing poetry; for I am a storyteller.

Writing Poetry is Lonely

I'm riding the train into town,
Enjoying the suburban scenery.
And here it comes -- a poetry idea!

I know it's an idea
'Cause it rides beside me:
Something about the riders
As they all crowd the train,
Rushing, sitting, reading.

I'd like to share with the man on the next seat.
But no! he doesn't want to hear from me.

I'm walking west on Main Street,
Enjoying the sidewalk scenery.
And here it comes -- a poetry idea!

I know it's an idea
'Cause it walks beside me:
Something about the coffee-breakers
As they sit in the donut shop
Drinking, reading, talking.

I'd like to share with the smoker on the sidewalk
But no! she flicks her butt and walks away.

I'm relaxing in a bar,
Enjoying the social scenery.
And here it comes -- a poetry idea!

I know it's an idea
'Cause it watches the people with me.
Something about the folks
As they come into the bar
In one's and three's, and leave in two's.

I'd like to share with this guy at the bar
But no! he's not here to "just chat".

My journal listens.
It's good at that.
But it doesn't answer.

Our muse bemused

(25 syllables.
Word craft from our muse,
Creating does us bemuse,
Fans can join our guild,
As images writers build!

Better Get Going

Better Get Going

I better get started
Time is running out
The sooner I get started
The better the poem should be
I’d have been better off starting earlier
But I am a procrastinator so I am never better at poetry
Maybe today I will be better off writing later
But then again, I probably won’t be better
I better hurry, my time is almost over
So, this poem is all I can do
I will try to be better
Or not.

I don't believe what just occurred!

I don't believe what just occurred!
The word I needed was gobbled up by that bird.
Oh, how could things have gone from bad to worse!
I now have this gaping hole in the middle of my verse.
And what I meant to say will be forever blurred.

Dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer

Dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer


I was dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer 
when a young woman stopped me, 
and said, “Madame, you are superbe.”
She told me twice, Madame you are superbe


But I didn’t feel superb.
Hadn’t for a long time, if ever at all. 
How is superb supposed to feel
when you're dancing in Boulogne-Sur-Mer?


Later I visited my doctor to 
ask if there was anything she could give for
treatment of the human condition; explain the
 woman had told me I was superbe. 


The doctor laughed, and said 
there was nothing for it I could take, 
apart from anti-depressants,
if you're depressed, are you, not superb?


She asked if I needed to take a break. Shall I sign you off, she said?
Maybe some time spent, alone in bed?
No, I said. She suggested I chose values, 
acceptance, rebellion, indifference or hope.


I went away, bemused
realising there is no choice 
to be made, you need all values
in your armour to face despair
when you’re dancing in Boulogne Sur mer.

IN THE WRITING

It’s easy when I write my poems to see which way my heart is leaning.
I tend to write about what gives my life its purpose and its meaning

Looking back over years of writing there is this tendency in me
to write about love, compassion, kindness, acceptance, my students,
my friends and my family.

To write about the beauty I find in nature…
her lakes, her rivers, her oceans and her seas…
her stars, her clouds, her mountains…
her animals, her butterflies, her bees.

From these I draw my inspiration…because
over the years my respect and admiration they have earned…
for all they’ve tried to teach me..and all that I have learned.

The the words of every poem I write is how I‘ve found a way
to thank them all for helping me be the person I become each day.

A person whose been blessed with a wonderful life
filled with its share of joy and laughter too…
and when I post my poems…I get to spread that joy to you.

I hope you find joy in the words of my poems
that every now and then you find them encouraging, inspiring and exciting…
but  no worries if you don’t…
because
for me…
the joy is in the writing.

Metamorphosis

True
Golden
Is the light given to write
The words that lovingly depart
Gleaned from the collection of moments
Watching the dance of life on a limitless silent stage
While the multitude of days fold in-between
A ream of poems on blank paper sheets
Rehearsing years of storied elegies
That churn and spill upon a new
Light of understanding
Recounting hope
Enlightenment
Wisdom
Love

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