I Read a Tight-Fisted Poem Once

(Nancy Woods, from Room For Me and a Mountain Lion)

I touched the nothingness of air once and felt nothing.
I touched it again and felt a breeze.
I filled my lungs with air and smelled nothing.
I filled my body and soul with it and smelled the violets.
I read a tight-fisted poem once and realized nothing.
I read it again and was surprised to see it burst into blossom
and reveal its inner palm.

To look once is to be blind.
To look again is to see inside.
To run quickly and glance it to realize nothing.
To move slowly and become what you look at
is to realize that nothing does not exist.

Do you see what it really is or do you see what you want it to be?
Is he saying what is in his heart or is he saying what he thinks is in yours?
To see a person is to know what he is like.
To see through a person is you must walk in that Forest
and become a part of the green coolness that is the forest.

And when you return they will say, "Where have you been?"
And you will reply, "I have been a forest."
And they will look at you and sigh, and wonder when you will say,
"Ah! But how will I know how a forest feels unless I feel it, too?"
And they will wonder when their problem child is going to change
and begin to learn something useful.

How to Eat a Poem

(Eve Merriam)

Don't be polite
Bite in.
Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice that
may run down your chin.
It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are.

You do not need a knife or fork or spoon
or plate or napkin or tablecloth.

For there is no core
or stem
or rind
or pit
or seed
or skin
to throw away.

Keep a Poem in Your Pocket

(Beatrice Schenk de Regniers)

Keep a poem in your pocket
and a picture in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed.

The little poem will sing to you
the little picture bring to you
a dozen dreams to dance to you
at night when you're in bed.

So--Keep a picture in your pocket
and poem in your head
and you'll never feel lonely
at night when you're in bed.

A Poem Not Ready to Be Heard

(Joe Paris)

The night calls to me, rushing home to save a poem cascading through my mind. Brought back to reality by what I wish were carnival lights, but knowing better.

Is there any reason to hurry tonight, sir?
The officer asks,

Yes, actually
I've seen something new
In the stars
They seem free without the weight of the moon
And poetry needs to breathe
Before thoughts escape like a number written on a cocktail napkin,

Been drinking tonight, sir?
The officer asks,

I drink laughter and smiles every day
I try to taste sunbeams
Savor the language of light on my tongue,

Step out of the car, please
The officer instructs,

But you don't understand
Dreams only come out to dance once in a while
It's time for rules to sleep
For us to float on the breath of beauty, like wishes on birthday candles,

Sir, you have the right to remain silent.

Acrostic Poems

Each line of an acrostic poem begins with a letter in its title. To write one, pick a subject. Make the subject your title. Write the letters of your title in a vertical row. Then write the lines of the poem, starting with the letters you have written. Each line can be a word, a phrase or a sentence.

M aking
U nique
S ounds
I nstead of
C haos.

T ogether
E ach
A ccomplishes
M ore

F alse
E vidence
A ppearing
R eal.

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Songs about Poetry

Songs about Rhymes

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