En.Citatepedia^®.ro

There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.

quote by Emile Zola
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Potter is jealous of potter, and craftsman of craftsman; and the poor have a grudge against the poor, and the poet against the poet.

quote by Hesiod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before a Poetry Reading

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!

'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not

The poet I am, and the poet I am not

‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poet Is Always Beside You

You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something Deliberate Maintained

The mind of an artist that is not detailed,
Can not be one accepted...
Or respected as a craftsman to be celebrated.

Perfoming or visual...
There is something deliberate maintained.
That which excells and commands attention.

And one who becomes a true artist can do this well.
And easily separates from those...
Who are just going through the motions.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet is free

Poet is free
No grammarian can guide the poet
Do not tell before a poet you are dare
And I know there are so many grammarians
With so many grammars
The poet is one with truth with love
All the grammars old middle modern
Are of no use for a poet
At the time of poet's thought
Poet's love poet's poetry
Nobody can search research poet's history
Nobody can dare to described poet
Poet can create his own language
His own grammar and it does not bother the poet
Whether you like it or not
Leave the poet on his own way
It is better you to read him love him
If you are alive.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am A Poet

Iam a poet
ı was born a poet
ı feel that frommy childhood
why the storks
chatter on the chimneys
and nest there
their young beak black
their eggs catch cold in winter
ı am a poet
but sometimes ı am misunderstood
that upsets me
very
sometimes people scold me
why the hell you look at me
strangely
they say
do ı resemble someone
do you recognise me
ı am just a poet
ı cannot say
ı s ı t my fault
to be born poet
ı wanna write a poem about you
so ı look and try to understand
your attitude
why does this bother you
ı was born so
ı watch a little child
leaving her mother
throwing herself to the water shower
in the pool in spring
then ı ask the child to return to mother
cause she is looking eagerly looking AFTER
does not like a stranger
she does not know what a poet is too
and lives plain and direct
ı am a poet
ı wish
ı were not born so
ı long for a humble and simple life
living may be in poverty
cause understands me nobody
even the closest around me

poem by Metin Sahin
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Night And Day

It's like I'm hit by Cupid's dart -
Are romantic words enough?
I wish I were your sweetheart
And your trusted one true love...

To me, your smiles are sunshine
And to me, your tears are rain...
If you were my Valentine,
Then you'd not hear me complain.

I wish I were your hero,
Your champion till life's end -
He who fought against the foe,
Defiantly as your friend.

I wish I were a painter,
An artist of great renown,
To me, there's nothing quainter
Than to paint you in your gown.

I wish I were a sculptor,
Like a craftsman with my hands -
Somehow to capture rapture
That each lover understands.

I wish I were a singer,
Like some brilliant baritone -
So I could be the bringer
Of great love songs yet unknown.

I wish I were a poet,
All your beauty to convey.
I want the world to know it,
Like I know it... night and day...

poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet

The poet can only utter the word fine
The poet has to bear the sorrow and the sin.

The poet can only say I am happy
The poet can only say I feel no aches no pain
The poet can only say I am not in loss
The poet can only say I am in the side of only gain.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The life of a Poet

The poet listens
the poet hears
he writes down
all his fears.
He observes things
that others don't
going to places
that others won't.
Inspired by simple things
like a sound or smell
the poet has lots
of stories to tell.
Even when asleep
his mind isn't at rest
in fact this is the time
it's at it's creative best.
The poet can be a restless soul
his life reflected on the page
some verse can be sweet and mild
then full of anger and rage.
The poet can be mysterious
and write in a strange way
he will say Black is White
and that night is day.
The poet is an artist
but instead of paint it's the word
painters want their work to be seen
but poets just need to be heard.

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Sunshine

This poet is so seductive
This poet is now strange to me
This poet is so bold
This little girl doesn't want to see

The little girl has known this poet
ever since
But the little girl is already
tired of this poet
She just wants to play.
Not any passing minute
She hasn't have
any word of
allegory
metonymy and
simile
Take me away from this poet yet
the little girl must empty first
the words of this poet
Before she is free to play
in the morning sunshine
and go away from this busy poet

Do you think I'm too young to see?
Do you agree?

This poet won't let me
play out in the middle of the rain
This poet won't let me
see the afternoon sway
This poet won't let me
see the morning gay
Let me see the Morning Sunshine
Let me see!
But this poet
Won't let me

I'll just watch t.v
and sing
her poetry

poem by Mary Jesusa Villegas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Not The Poet's Poet But Perhaps The Would- Be- Poet's Would-Be Poet

I AM NOT THE POET’S POET BUT PERHAPS THE WOULD- BE- POETS WOULD – BE –POET

I am not the poet’s poet-
The one poets of name and fame admire-
But perhaps the would- be- poets would be – poet-
Who tries to be a poet
And tries to understand what it means
To love poetry and live by writing it
Even when the world does not recognize me..
.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Who No Longer Believes In Himself

THE POET WHO NO LONGER BELIEVES IN HIMSELF

The poet who no longer believes in himself
And writes on anyway-
The poet who is too weak to stop writing-
The poet who has died as a poet,
Before he has as a person-
The poet who may never have lived as a poet-
The old old old schnook,
Still trying to write a poem
And believing he has done it once again.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Being A Poet

being a poet
is not an ambition

it is ironic
that i do poetry and

yet i do not want
to be called a poet

nor be identified with
any movement in poetry

nor take the challenge and opportunity
of being crowned by laurel leaves

and be dragged on the stage of
an island of light focusing my head and body

and they shall all clap and say
this is the poet, this is our poet

not in the figment of my imagination
not an ambition not a profession not a career in the field of literature
to be a poet on a certain degree

you see, i live in a crowded universe
i am a fish in the sea of people

and i, never imagine once in my whole life
that i will be swimming so meaninglessly in the corridors

of this vast ocean of men and mice and snakes
and goats and pigs and eagles

poetry is what i do but i am not a poet
this poet, that poet
their poet

the reason is here inside my heart
this is my place &
this is my only chance to be alone

to be myself to be human again for out there
i, we, you have become pillars
and dams.and walls and continental shelves

it is only here in this spot
that i become my island

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I May Not Have Been A Great Poet

I MAY NOT HAVE BEEN A GREAT POET

I may not have been a great poet
Or even a good poet
Or even the poet I wanted to be.
But I am the poet I could be
The poet I am.
And may God have mercy on my soul,
And on all those I love.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Puzzle

Do not bury the poet
The poet bury himself.
The poet is his soul
It is seen ti poet only.

The poet see the time
And time see the poet.
Ask not the poet repeat
Another sun flash light
And you puzzled.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rivers of a Poet

The Rivers of the Poet

The verses of the poet
vary from the rivers
though they also flow
while circulating inside
until materializing
in words and verses
that others can see.

The poet’s soul communions
with the exterior world
and flows like the rivers
with each inspiration.

The rivers of the poet
do dry inside of him
as he writes,
but it is forever
that they flow in written form
upon the sheets of paper.

That is how
the rivers of the poet
leave and manage to stay
until another river
appears and flows
with another inspiration.

poem by Juan Antonio Rodriguez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem To A Poets!

the poet see crooked
and talk weird too
like a drunk
perdition in his insane!

No one can understand a Poet
Just you and me, like poet we are

The poet say 'Dr. Jivago'?
It means like a movie? No
it means my love for you! ! !

Or he asks yourself, Am I Evil?
No, he does not evil
I am in silence, affirm the poet! ! !
In silence never he will be

BONG, kick the can! ! !
WAR
AAA
RAW
in silence he is!

Trapped in a tower
a terrible place
just for one second to rest
like almost all of us

He said' I gone'
but gone like no one
gone with strenght
strange and revolutionary Poet!

No one can understand a Poet
Just you and me, like poet we are! ! !

poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carpenter By Trade

His future had been laid- for he was a carpenter by trade.
Just as a carpenter can mold anything out of wood
He could mold mans hearts and souls into good.

He would mold mans hearts with accurate precision
For this was his fathers decision.
He came to mold all the hearts of mankind
And open the eyes of the blind.

The world would come to know him as the king of kings
And see all the love that he would bring.
Throughout the centuries it will be told
He is the master craftsman of the heart and soul.

Now when we feel a tingle of sensation
And a wanting to get more of inspiration
Look for the craftsman who could mold
The hearts and souls of man
To give you a helping hand.

when he made the heart of man
He left a corner deep within
Where the love for him can forever grow
And his love you could show.

Let all who know you - know this carpenter man
Who from evil he took his stand.
He has entered in you to mold you from the inside out
So you would know what loves about.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet Is A Poet/Wherever He Goes

A POET IS A POET/ WHEREVER HE GOES

A poet is a poet
Wherever he goes
He can stop and sit on a bench anywhere
And write a poem
The poems come from without often
But what is within is the poetry-

Like a dream like a fire like a small light
That never goes out
A poet sits anywhere and writes his dream-

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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