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

Poetry in English    Poetry in Translation Culture News About Us Write to Us

Bond Age

Jumoke Verissimo -Nigeria


With the tension of a city's night

In the laxity of a village's day

I hold with all my strength

The nation which rests on my back

That which I build must not fall


I'm a builder


Here on this shoulder

I have carried that which words

                        Will not name

In the crooks of my thigh lay

The dreams of a town

That which I've nurtured to beam

            Strong lights across its borders


I'm a builder

Born to be....


The Bond


I hold together

That which you think will fall

Pots and academic gowns

Pencils and paints splashed on

The walls of sceptic hearts

Call me a magician

I with the magic of bonding

Even when held in Bond--


I have grown beyond

The times

I climb

I am a paradigm

Which you know

And seek to understand


This hold I am,


Glue. Glued.

It Holds together...


The soul


What's born with no soul?

What's made with no soul?

What exists with no soul?

Even nada has a soul


This is the soul of that which

Defies reason

This is the soul of that which

Conforms to understanding

At that time when you think

The world is watching

And light comes with knowing


The Day


That ties tomorrow with yesterday

When the words of your soul murmurs

Convenience with believe and distrust


Daylight. That's me. The newness

The freshness. The vegetable that defines

            The soup from the stew


Here's one with a story to tell:


The Story:



I was a molten waste

Wondering if my luck won't take a duck

When the time came for me to make a buck


I became the rejected rock

Upon which the town soul rests


I became a feline, who yesterday

Caught an overfed rat

Today, battles the tiger

In narrow daylight


I became a shiny band

on the wrist


A wonder

An adornment

Filtered into resentment




I am the one who cured the king

of his arthritis

I brought profit to his wrist

I assist him co-exist in this mist

Where healing belongs to the initiated


The initiated


I it is who defines

Sales from sold


On me is the secret

Printed on the steel

Crafted in my beads

Adorned on my sides

Your copper bracelet


I am the bond

I do not age

When you call I shall be


And you shall wear me

I will remove your ache

You will whisper without

Moving your lips


Call me:

My Copper Bracelet

And I will answer

Thatís what I am.


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