And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.
quote by Thomas Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Marry A Poet
The great seasgull is now in the sky! !
Fantasy;
But, you are at the seaside waiting for your lover because,
You want to marry a poet.
Arts and nature!
Love is in the air;
Because, everything around us are part of the beauty of nature! !
And like the sweet muse of love to educate the mind.
Imagination,
Life,
Peace and love;
But you are ready to learn from everybody and,
You want ot marry a poet!
And, this poem is for you my love.
How lovely is your heart?
How lovely is your muse?
How lovely is your mind?
For, the great seagull in now in the sky! !
And, you are at the seaside waiting for your lover because,
You want to marry a poet.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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 Finds....
The poet finds whatever the moon could not see,
The poet finds whatever the earth does not know,
The poet finds whatever the sun could not see,
The poet finds whatever others do not know,
The poet finds whatever the stars could not see,
So why do the heathen rage and the people plot vanity? !
For she who is pregnant is closer to us,
And the hart pants after streams of water.
Your tears have been your food night and day,
And like your inner self in the lan dof your muse;
But the poet finds whatever the sun could not see.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet's Mind So Sweet
Easier said than done,
Of the pros and cons of life;
But you are financially numerated to buy the air.
No means no! Don't pester;
And yes means yes! Don't laugh;
But to enthuse with your muse matters to me like,
A poet's mind so sweet to the world.
About life and love, is it worth the trouble? !
Since, cartoonists are born and not made.
Rumour upon rumour and disaster upon disaster!
The King will mourn for the lost;
And like the frame of the mind to respect the poet.
Your beautiful jewels are the earth's own minerals,
And like a poet's mind shared by many to learn from;
But with the very muse of love so sweet all!
Of flour, honey and oil;
The writer will always write for many to learn from,
But i am naked in the eyes of many with my views.
A poet's mkind so sweet is like the muse of hope and,
Like the days of someone very useful at hand;
But the muse of life is always shared with the tune of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Goodbye Poet! ! ! !
Very sad when a Poet close your book
leave his pen and left us
So we say: There goes, Aphrodite, Apollo, Hades
find your ethereal Muse and make peaces with God
Because
The Poet goes different
He goes taking all of us with him
He goes but leaving your scrolls, hymns
His Ilíadas, Odisseias
For ever and Never
Because
The Poet let us different
He dare to be absent without a motive
confront dead and write the more beautiful Poem
Poet's heart now beats alone!
So go Poet
Go, because you are different
poem by Mirna Morgan
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
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You Who Cannot Love Nature
Her natural ways you only wish to control
You who cannot love Nature you do not have a soul
Our beloved Earth Goddess the source of the poet's muse
The one who sustains us and her you abuse.
A successful developer and a known millionaire
Yet you are not special and your type not rare
You have caused the death of many a tree
You cannot love Nature that seems sad to me.
You don't hear the birds sing where there once was a wood
Yet many look up to you see greed as good
Far too many people and too few who care
For the Goddess of Nature in her World out there.
You who cannot love Nature you do not understand
That we are a part of her as much as a grain of sand
And whether our remains they bury or burn
Of Nature we are and to her we'll return.
You who cannot love Nature the windows of your soul
Are covered in dark shades that are dark as coal
All of those who love Nature you look on as strange
And you snigger aloud at talk of climate change.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Arguably John Clare
In the English language the greatest poet of Nature is arguably John Clare
Many of his bird and animal and insect poems are gems beyond compare
Yet he died in Northampton mental asylum where he had lived for many years
He penned such marvellous poetry though his life was full of tears.
His Nature poems of the nineteenth century are relevant to today
The Badger and The Landrail, The Fox and Clock a Clay
The Pettichap, The Cuckoo and The Thrush's Nest
When Writing about Nature Clare was at his best.
In death the poor shepherd poet from Helpston has come into his own
His poems poetic classics around the World are known
The greatest Nature poet of England as many would agree
A poet for the ages from a life of poverty.
As a boy amongst Nature in the fields of Helpston he knew of happiness
But sad to think one like him in life did not know of success
With any English Nature poet he favourably does compare
The legendary one of Helpston the reamarkable John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poems Of John Clare
For years in Northampton mental asylum he battled his ghosts of despair
His Nation's finest poet of Nature the marvellous wordsmith John Clare
So many of his poems are relevant today
The one who loved Nature with words had a way.
The Helpston he grew up in not a cultural place
And though in that old Village his was a known face
They little realized the fame to them he'd bring
That poetry lovers World wide his praises would sing.
Without him less people of Helpston would know
The great poet of Nature of centuries ago
He died in Northampton mental asylum in dire poverty
Yet is there one greater Nature poet than he?
His flora and fauna poems have passed scrutiny's test
And as a Nature poet he was surely the best
Into the soul of Nature it seemed he could see
And his verses have outlived his mortality.
He never did enjoy his literary renown
And he died in the asylum in Northampton Town
But he was a true poet and his type are so rare
And old Helpston lives on in the poems of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Not A Nature Poet
I AM NOT A NATURE POET
I am not a Nature poet,
And the trees and the skies I see
Are more than my eyes can name
And my mind can write.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Within The Next 7 Days!
You and your poetry,
Me and my poetry,
Selected! !
In this world,
With your muse,
With my muse,
Of this honour,
Of this love,
Of this peace,
As a poet,
Of your new poem,
Of my new poem,
Within the next 7 days!
But, bering very excited about it.
cash, bash, lash, mash, wash, ash, flash!
of your muse,
of my muse,
The prizes,
The sizes,
Seizes! !
As a participant,
And like a friendly reminder;
However, being based on your previously published work.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nature And Poet
Nature is the diet of a poet,
from natural beauty
poet derives immense pleasure,
drinks the nectar from the flowing down
Himalayan hilly stream, fulfils the long cherished
desire, translates into reality
the sweet lovely dream;
The tiny brook dazzles with the morn’s Sun beam.
Oh Lord Siva! Ye reside on ‘Kailash Mountain’;
Beside Ye flows down the magnificent
alluring mysterious
transparent water of the fountain.
Devotees pray thee for a bliss;
from the ‘Abode of peace’
Ye fulfil their desire and wish;
they sleep in the lap of Nature,
receive Nature’s kiss.
Poet is a worshipper, preacher
in the temple of Nature;
With indomitable enthusiasm
pens verses with tranquillity,
serenity, sanctity, being pure.
Man comes and goes;
poet’s verses remain for ever;
As a brook flows down eternally
in the lap of Nature.
Poet’s poem dazzles in golden letters
on the pages of history;
Depicts the Eternal Truth of Earth,
the beauty of Nature,
and the mystery.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Fears Failure
The poet fears failure
& so she says
"Hold on pen--
what if the critics
hate me?"
& with that question
she blots out more lines
than any critic could.
The critic is only doing his job:
keeping the poet lonely.
He barks
like a dog at the door
when the master comes home.
It's in his doggy nature.
If he didn't know the poet
for the boss,
he wouldn't bark so loud.
& the poet?
It's in her nature
to fear failure
but not to let that fear
blot out
her lines.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Creative Dream!
Kaleidoscopic dreams are beautiful
As the architectural beauty here!
Beauty of Nature reflected in art
A wonderful dream it is to muse!
Nature, art and dreams are colourful
With the imagination enhancing scope
To see a wonderful creative process
Materializing into great master piece!
Dreaming in Nature mind of art finds
Wonderful pasture to enjoy unique joy
Leading the poet to compose poems
Artistic, natural and fantastic forever!
Mind full of artistic ideas engrossed
In Nature poets dream great wonders!
poem by Ramesh T A
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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Abruzzo's Voice!
The topography,
The act,
The art,
The muse,
The poem,
The poet,
Acquainted with the unique act of Abruzzo's voice!
Nut, try to appreciate its beauty;
And like the muse of sweet love,
But equally delicious to satisfy you! !
Love,
Superiority,
This red wine from your red valley!
But, with the 'Montepulciano Grape';
And, it is ideal for the accompaniment of your joy,
But, this dry red wine is with the muse of your work.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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Poet and Chivalry
Poet, an industry not of mankind
An era that poet’s in awe to partake a rite
Poetry belongs to the ancient tribe
An era that poet’s dissolute and roaming
Poetry ascribes to nature and wildness
An era that poet a jester praised in comic to entertain the king
Poetry is the plaything of an empire
The era that poet yields to the media, pursuing fame and fortune
Poetry is a consuming product
Poet holds in awe since the heaven and earth are vast
Poet’s degenerated because of his nature
Poet’s comical because ironical the self derision
Poet capitulates because of human’s weakness
Although poet hasn’t always been an industry of mankind
Its luster would shine upon the darkness that poet ever survived
Lighting a light in darkness of history and showing its courage
Lighting a light in darkness of future and proving its foresight
Compromised the life
But allows not to compromise of poetry
The spirit and vitality of a chivalry is the case
Poet, still not an industry of mankind
Today
The chivalry has sealed his sword and pen
The page of poetry gradually stained and spotted yellow
The sharp sword conceals a smoked silver flash
poem by DePen Chang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Natural Genius!
Inspiration from Nature makes me free
And free flow of words become fine poem!
Peacock dances out of zeal seeing rain clouds;
Nightingale sings enjoying Nature in fulfilment!
Nature is friend, philosopher and guide for all!
This truth animal, men and natural beings know!
Eye, ear, nose, tongue and feeling if sensitive
Lessons of Nature open heart to do all in love!
Ape and men learn from others to do all ever
As where intellect is strong instinct is weak!
If instinct, intellect and intuition are high sure
One will be super being creative as God or poet!
Engrossed in Nature's influence all comes naturally
For the genius doing great feat as singer, poet and all!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Muse Is Free
I swim in the glimmers on the rivers muse
There I muse of love and love muse of me
In muse is ecstasy
my muse is free.
I lay by the brook, the muse's brook
And thirsty, I get up, to get a little drink
When I look, I see, I think
A beautiful Muse and my heart is shook
I dwell in a soul, a soulful muse
And to its harmony my soul withdrew
To the trumpets of muse the song of blue
My soul a muse, I always knew
I smell the odor, of muse's incense
In its torpor my body sleeps in my soul
And I smoke the smoke of muse intense
I laugh at myself amusingly droll
With my muse's nymphs we love in Hellas
Naked and free in the republic
Of beauty and art of love's Bellas
We love to we're entirely love sick.
My muse is free from the Devil's temptation
My Muse is free from God's judgment
My Muse is my only wordly nation
My Muse is a dream, I live, I lament
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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