But for a few phrases from his letters and an odd line or two of his verse, the poet walks gagged through his own biography.
quote by John Updike
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Emily Dickinson takes a poetry course
Dear Ms Dickinson: I’ve just received
your amusing little trifle,
'Faith is a fine invention'
as your first week's homework on this course..
and hope that as your designated docent
(you may of course request a change..)
we may establish a relationship
that’s full of ‘ mellow fruitfulness’ – as
John Keats (1795-1821) would put it..
First, may I say that it’s more interesting
for the reader, not to use the first line
of your poem –especially one so short –
as the title…something more intriguing perhaps?
such as – in this case, ‘Natural Science’?
I have a feeling that you have within you
much more to say on this theme
(already well covered by the poets, did you know?)
than this whimsical – if pertinent – short verse…
Thus it’s best for the poet as beginner
not to attempt the succinct ‘apercu’
(I hope you understand a little French?)
of such as our more resonant senior 'gentlemen'..…
I do question the use of ‘invention’
in the first line; however,
I think I detect a hint of emulating
William Blake’s poetic stance here?
Now, in these days of sexual equality
it would be best, I think,
not to use ‘Gentlemen’… are there not
lady biologists and preachers? ...
and we don’t now use those capital letters
so beloved of our German poets…
Your setting-off of science against religion
is alas, so easily overdone; especially
in the context of so short a verse.. and
‘Microscopes are prudent’ is, I have to say,
not the most evocative of phrases; even though
poetic compaction is a worthy aim…
Nor is it clear what ‘Emergency’ it is, to which
you might refer – microscopes are, I feel,
an image of less urgent study?
However, Miss Dickinson, I suspect
that you have a confident personal voice
which we shall hope to bring out?
I shall not discuss the other verse
which you include: its punctuation
of unseemly dashes reads so breathless
that one may hardly bestow the designation
‘poesy’ upon it..
However I look forward to your next week’s
homework, Miss Dickinson – may I suggest
something a little longer for your next
poetic venture? There are many themes
out there, even for the
single lady? Yrs, E. Doolittle BA (Hons)
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When you translate poetry in particular, you're obliged to look at how the writer with whom you're working puts together words, sentences, phrases, the triple tension between the line of verse, the syntax and the sentence.
quote by Marilyn Hacker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Lightning Rod
A poet is merely a lightning rod,
For passing through him the words of God!
He opens up his mind, receives,
Then passes on the message, grieves!
The words erupt from deep within him
That God has stored before, verbatim.
Line upon line of schemes, ideas,
When left to man, left man in tears.
Words left in trust at the Creation
Mankind would waste in dissipation.
Before, when Adam walked with Eve
In Eden's den of make-believe
Were knowledge trees and friendly serpents
As God composed the Ten Commandments!
And every verse of every poem
Was writ before the truth was known;
That nothing is ever achieved by man
Without the seal of God's own hand.
So laud me not, the poet's in me,
But deep within, the poet's empty.
A poet is merely a lightning rod
For passing through him the words of God!
9 November 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Twiddle Your Thumbs
Sometimes you want to say something
but feel that you hands are tied
and your voice is gagged.
You want to let out those pent up emotions
feeling free to clear the air
but for some unknown reason
you hold back from letting go
becoming gagged and frustrated.
You know what you’ll say,
will cause a long argument
and that is something you do not want.
Therefore, you bite your tongue
and let the dark cloud disperse
knowing sooner or later
another time will come
and then you will not be gagged.
Saying your piece
and getting it all off your chest
but until then you sit quietly
and just twiddle your thumbs.
6 March 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Praying For Rain
the farmer poet
walking barefoot
in the dust,
looking upwards
towards heaven,
praying for rain.
the blue collar poet
walks between the rows
of machines gone silent
in the deserted building,
looking upwards,
praying for work.
the nurse poet
stares at the line
of people wanting help,
no insurance, no money
looking upwards,
praying for hope.
the politician poet
surrounded by the din
of deals being made
without conscience
or integrity,
looking upwards,
praying for dignity.
the mother poet,
pushed into a corner,
no food, no money,
cant pay the rent or
buy clothes.
looking down
into her children's eyes,
praying for God!
the human poet,
looking inwards,
praying for all
that lives
praying for rain!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Only one night.
Remember the verse
remember the rhyme.
Remember the meter
all set in a line.
Remember the story
from begining to end.
He is an old man
with a young friend.
Is it a kiss, or is it a lie.
Remember the verse
and always asked why.
Why is so
why is it right.
To become a poet
for only one night.
poem by Roy Storey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poet Walks Alone In The Night
THE POET WALKS ALONE IN THE NIGHT
The Poet walks alone in the night-
He is happy.
The Dark has a certain Beauty-
The Light has a certain Beauty-
The Sky has a certain Beauty-
The stars.
The Poet walks alone in the night-
Beauty.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Autumn Letter
I want to write a letter to someone in the autumn
In the Autumn, I see lonely fountain streamed from a deep valley
And want to wet the lonely heart
I write a letter in the autumn night but knowing that cannot be sent in the morning
Now there is a postman who delivers letters in the air in the days and nights
So I am sending letters
I regret but the unsent letters always cry
I send the thread tied letters in the air without stamps
The letters of the poet opens its eyes with holding their breaths
poem by Kyungdae Min
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poet Walks Slowly
THE POET WALKS SLOWLY
The poet walks slowly
The dream of the world surrounds him
As Light.
He stops to write
And the words open up happily,
As if the morning and the fresh breeze
Were all there need be
Of God’s Soul.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
When they are roused
Try to guard them, poet
However few they are that can be held.
The visions of your eroticism.
Set them, half hidden, in your phrases.
Try to hold them, poet,
when they are roused in your mind
at night, or in the noon glare.
Original Greek:
Οταν διεγείρο& #957;ται
Προ` 3;πάθησε να τα φυλάξεις, ποιητή,
ό&# 963;ο κι αν είναι λίγα αυτά που σταματιο& #973;νται.
Το 65; ερωτισμο& #973; σου τα οράματα.
&# 914;αλ'τα, μισοκρυμ& #941;να, μες τες φράσεις σου.
Προσ&# 960;άθησε να τα κρατήσει& #962;, ποιητή,
ό&# 964;αν διεγείρο& #957;ται μες το μυαλό σου
την νύχτα ή μες την λάμψι του μεσημερι& #959;ύ.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
I am not a poet
They say I am not a poet,
I, too, think so,
I am not a poet,
For I dare not turn the truth,
Into falsehood,
Or vise-versa,
I refrain myself from decorating
my verses with words and phrases,
To create sensation.
I call spade a spade,
In the simplest term
I may not be a poet,
But am aware of,
The mysteries of love,
I may not be a poet, But know how to detect,
Imitations in emotions.
I am aware of,
The cavity the society bears,
The thriving double standards,
The artificial claims of love,
I know I am not a poet,
I prefer to remain a simple person, Without being obsequious,
I can accomplish my task,
I just say what I feel,
So what if they do not send
Their inspiring comments,
So what if they take my request for flattery,
I would go on expressing my feelings,
Whether they like it or not
For I am not a poet at all.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to Shakespeare! ! !
O Shakespeare!
O Painter of the heart of Man!
The mysteries of Nature got revealed on your soul;
In vastness,
Your spirit is vaster n deeper than the oceans;
In insight,
Your glance is higher than the stars;
The spell by which you conquer hearts
Is inimitable
Even by scholars of wit and art …
The meanings of your phrases are universally alive
By the magic of your pen.
Elixir drips and trickles from the flow of your ink.
Every play of yours is enacted in every man's life.
Every verse of yours is an exegesis of nature.
Secrets get exposed by the style of your hand.
Pains and joys of every man
Voice out by your tongue.
Nature is your modest bride,
Beauty of your phrases do embellish her.
You are a weaver of intense images.
Meanings of your chants
Are neither constrained to space nor limited to time.
Sometimes you are out beyond the wit of sages
So universal are your Man's life's stages.
O Poet of the World!
Alive as you are
Will always stay alive;
The light of your fame will never die out…
poem by Shahzia Batool
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm A Poet
I'm a Poet
A twister of words
I open a world unseen to others
I bring meaning to the meaningless
I use words as my weapon
It's a double edged sword
I can bring beauty to a slum land
Horror to a smile
I can give life to the dead
Immorality to a flower
Then destroy it in the next line
I'm a poet
A rhymer of words
I see the unseen
And create new worlds
I am an artist of the written
A magician of the pen
I can make words rhyme
Or go free verse
It all depends
On how I feel in that moment
I'm a poet
To the end
poem by Rachel Dowd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am A Poet Of Short Lines
I am a poet of short lines-
Of lines that are phrases,
Of lines that are small and broken-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of impatience and small breath,
Of hurrying and not taking time-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of condensation and conciseness,
Of maximum meaning in minimum space-
I am a poet of short lines
Short ones.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For My Beloved Friend
*another acrostic..the first letters of each line; the first letter of the middle syllables of each line; and the last letters of each line make up the sentence: 'I will be with you forever'
Imparted to this pathWay is your own cradled grieF.
Whilst you hide the anger Inside your concrete egO,
I still see those uncried Tears locked in your mind’s cellaR
Longing that you stop withHolding the sorrow and hatE.
Lies run along this road - Your path with no point to reV.
But my friend, I will stay On your side and never leavE.
Even if this walk lasts Until we reach foreveR.
poem by Jan Valdez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Get Back In Line
Facing the world aint easy when there isnt anything going
Standing at the corner waiting watching time go by
Will I go to work today or shall I bide my time
cos when I see that union man walking down the street
Hes the man who decides if I live or I die, if I starve, or I eat
Then he walks up to me and the sun begins to shine
Then he walks right past and I know that Ive got to get back in the line
Now I think of what my mamma told me
She always said that it would never ever work out
But all I want to do is make some money
And bring you home some wine
For I dont ever want you to see me
Standing in that line
cause that union mans got such a hold over me
Hes the man who decides if I live or I die, if I starve, or I eat
Then he walks up to me and the sun begins to shine
Then he walks right past and I know that Ive got to get back in the line
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Song Of A Rhyming Man
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
This modern verse too much for me it's way above my head
Though modern poets are now the rage and Rhyme is with the dead.
I love the sound of rhyming words, I love the verse that rhyme
To blank or free or non rhyme verse prefer it every time
And there's many who will disagree and most will say I'm wrong
But give me ballad or rhyme verse or good old rhyming song.
You may say I am limited and with you most will agree
That I'm not into modern verse of twenty first century
But I've been an old style rhyming man since nineteen seventy three
And I am in my sixties now and there's no changing me.
I love the sound of rhyming words like Dan will rhyme with Ann
And I could never be a poet just call me rhyming man
And I am guilty of no sin and I can't see no crime
In liking sound of rhyming verse and loving words that rhyme
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Every poem
Every poem stands
on its own legs
and although
it displays something
of the poet’s soul,
in reality the poet
stands totally free
from it.
Every word and rhyme
and every verse
is totally independent
from who and what
the poet is
and is nothing more
than a verbal painting
of feelings, life, reflections
or any thing
that the poet wants
to express.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!