Poetry is the journey of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance - Carl Sandburg..........Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject - John Keats .........Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge - William Wordsworth ..........Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand - Plato .........No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher. For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language - Samuel Taylor Coleridge .........One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective. What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves - W. H. Auden ...........Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash - Leonard Cohen .........There is a pleasure in poetic pains which only poets know - William Cowper .........Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood -T. S. Eliot ..........Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason - Novalis...........He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life - George Sand .........A poem is never finished, only abandoned - Paul Valery ........A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland - Kahlil Gibran.............Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance - John Keats..........To be a poet is a condition, not a profession - Robert Frost........A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself - E. M. Forster.........Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo - Don Marquis...........Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things - T. S. Eliot ..........You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick. You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in - Dylan Thomas .........Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words - Paul Engle......... There is not a joy the world can give like that it takes away! Lord Byron
Master Poets and Modern Poets
English Master Poets
Faulkner, Ashley D.
Klein, Joshua M.
Lim, Soo Young
Majen, Ben Yunus
Slavick, Madeleine Marie
Sufi, Joy as-
Zigweid, Chad M.
Poetry in English
Poems Featured in Issue 5 of Nadwah
Sydney Lea - USA
you might have been that long-legged
woman striking as tall as you
we came out of the very same Rothko exhibit
the show was all on one floor
so where in the world could she have been
she seemed rushed hailed a cab and fled a mere instant
I noticed her beauty no doubt
but more her eyesí sadness though they never met mine
her look conveyed well I canít say what
she shook out her hair at the car-door
More on page 18 (Issue 5)
Sydney Lea - USA
Iíve watched him push his granny glasses up
above his brow, in order to scrutinize
More on page 20 (Issue 5)
The young send their news by phone nowadays.
Iíve just watched a video from a son:
it shows his sweet-tempered three-year-old boy
winding a key inside a stuffed monkey,
then laying the musical toy in the crib
of his baby brother. Intent, he listens
More on page 22 (Issue 5)
Birgit Bunzel - Germany
Leaves quiver, compelled from below,
as though by the breath of the underworld.
The meadow, too, heaves in the wind,
and a heron with amber-beaded eyes
soars across the water with slow beats of
More on page 28 (Issue 5)
SHOES ON THE TABLE
Lena Oh - South Korea
Mom, Iím home.
Shouting to the air,
You throw me, here and there.
You left me scattered,
But no words before we parted.
All my life, I have accompanied you
To every little corner you wanted to go.
I was there with you,
Walking miles and miles together.
Itís alright you donít thank me, ever.
More on page 29 (Issue 5)
Poems Featured in Previous Issues
j. Ortiz - America
In this hemisphere, corn is ancient and young: it is the seed, food,
and symbol of a constantly developing and revolutionary people.
Donít fret now.
Songs are useless
Thatís not their intent anyway.
More on page 15 (Issue 4)
JumokeVerissimo - Nigeria
(For a friend living with cancer)
Itís time to leave for the unknown
Time when past years skid in my head
Time to shed the burden of despair
From a mind where tears peak gut
Ignorance is no virtue for one dying
I choose contentment in knowing nothing
Gathering strength thinking and disregarding
More on page 25
Adjei Agyei-Baah - Ghana
You are the sleepless duck
Who rests on a single leg
Keeps vigil over a silent compound
And waits upon the ancestral spirits
To come for the last morsel of the day
More on pages 28-29
We should all be feminists? No! It is rusty; and rust cannot be
a bluing for the geckoís skin. You claim to stuff rare sutures
in fissure of the sun. You are the warmth of moon at night
feast, trumpeting crystals of talons.
More on pages
A. - Pakistan
after Tafiyar Qaguwa: A Crabís Journey in Search of God by Umar
Saleh Gwani (Stunned Collection)
Wastage teaches us
scraps are meaningful;
wipe plates with pieces of bread before setting
them in a sink. Running with wolves could mean
same as salvaging grace. Our lessons become
More on page
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