The generous Critic fann'd the Poet's fire, And taught the world with reason to admire.
quote by Edgar Allan Poe
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Poets and critics
The poet is a child, emotion ridden.
The critic is a teacher, a check dam.
The poet bursts to cry or weep.
The critic stands there with a whip.
23.09.2000, Palasa
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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
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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
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A Coincidence
Every critic in the town
Runs the minor poet down;
Every critic--don't you know it?
Is himself a minor poet.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Letters Of Fire
Every letter is fire
Every sentence is a river
Full of fire
Flowing deep into the sky
Where God lives in happiness
With His angels.
The poet breathes with fire
Composes with fire
He burns the eternity
When God smiles.
Letters of fire fly
To the limitless space
The poem reaches the throne of God
And appears as a poet
He asks the God
Are you playing with war?
poem by Devil Poet
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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
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The Most Powerful Living Force
i admire islam
that distils the most
powerful living force
into one distinct entity
and i admire the
followers who pray
five times every day
to him to secure
blessings straight
from his hands
i admire too the
Christians who could
every week take part
in the feast of the body
and blood of a part of
the living God - Christ
and be eternally saved
i admire the Hindus
who have a million celestial
beings to help them work
their karma this life and
next and the next until
they are pure enough,
spotlessly clean to merge
with the Living God
I admire the Buddhists who
could live and pray throughout
their life for none other than
a state of nothingness
free from desires of all kinds
the admire the Jews too
who though thrown into fire
(holocaust) , made stateless
and subservient, with
steadfastness cling
to Yahweh believing
he meant only the
best for them
i admire all the world's
great religions which
through thick and thin
try to guide men to
Almighty, to love and love
like him despite all the
human shortcomings
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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It is only an auctioneer who can equally and impartially admire all schools of art.
Oscar Wilde in The Critic as Artist (1891)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Sonnet XXXIV: Marvel Not, Love
To Admiration
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Ravish'd a world beyond the farthest thought,
And knowing more than ever hath been taught,
That I am only starv'd in my desire.
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Aiming at things exceeding all perfection,
To Wisdom's self to minister correction,
That I am only starv'd in my desire.
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Though my conceit I further seem to bend
Than possibly invention can extend,
And yet am only starv'd in my desire.
If thou wilt wonder, here's the wonder, Love:
That this to me doth yet no wonder prove.
poem by Michael Drayton
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The Wicket Cricket Critic
If the cricket critics' nagging
Merits stern official gagging
Which I doubt
How would critical ascetics,
With their prosy homiletics,
Shut it out?
And the question then arises:
If more cricketing surprises,
Such as bodyline, begin to threaten cricket,
And another stunt, when sprung,
Call for clicking of the tongue,
Should a cricket critic critically click it?
When the barrackers grow lyric
In a manner most satiric
And profane,
How, one ventures still to wonder,
May the clamor be kept under?
How restrain?
For one barbaric larrik-
In can do a lot of barrack-
In', and cause a lot of worry at the wicket.
But would sportsmen be abusing
Cricket canons in refusing
To supply that cricket critic with a ticket?
As a critic analytic
Of the cricket critics' critic
I would say,
When we criticise their cricket,
Then the players have to stick it,
Come what may.
No specific soporific
May be used; for it is diffic-
Ult to strike a critic partly paralytic.
So there's nothing gained in seeking,
As I know; and I am speaking
As a critic of the cricket critic's critic.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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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
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Tom Zart's Soldier For The Lord & Love!
TOM ZART'S SOLDIER FOR THE LORD & LOVE!
I'm a soldier for the Lord
Who's been up and who's been down
Though while on the battlefield
I have never turned around.
I face more than flesh and blood
With the devil's evil hoard.
But they shall not steal my soul
For I swing my Lord's swift sword.
I wear all of God's armor
With helmet, breastplate and shield.
As Satan's arrows fly by
From his archers of the field.
The devil casts his dark net
Over any he may charm.
He'll lead them from salvation
With his hands upon their arm.
I battle evil daily
And I pray that you'll join me.
We're not alone in this world
For we're loved and watched by Thee.
BY GOD'S POET = tom!
MY WIFE IS BEAUTIFUL, GENEROUS & KIND
My wife is so beautiful, generous and kind
I thank God for her presence day and night!
It's Heaven's gift to us how we truly harmonize
Without reason to criticize, blame or fight.
We never lie or keep secrets from each other's soul
As we both believe God is watching and observes all.
We do what we do to maintain what we love
Never forgetting our awareness of God's call.
Life has its blessings, heartbreak and consequences
By our foolish misdeeds we learn right from wrong.
Once we're blessed by the power of God's will
We worship Him by prayer, actions, servitude and song.
Tom Zart's 456 Poems Are Free To Share To Teach Or Show Support!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
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Verses to Clarinda
Fair Empress of the poet's soul,
And Queen of poetesses;
Clarinda, take this little boon,
This humble pair of glasses:
And fill them up with generous juice,
As generous as your mind;
And pledge them to the generous toast,
"The whole of human kind!"
"To those nwho love us!" second fill;
But not to those whom we love;
Lest we love those who love not us -
A third - "To thee and me, love!"
poem by Robert Burns
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Too much is demanded by the critic, attempted by the poet.
quote by John C. Ransom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love....
i love...
that's the reason i walk,
the reason i breathe.
the reason i grieve.
the reason i dance.
the reason i smile.
the reason i listen.
the reason i offer a hand.
the reason i see beauty.
the reason i see both darkness,
and light....
the reason i take chances.
the reason i keep going.
the reason i get angry.
the reason i forgive.
the reason i touch.
the reason i question.
the reason i believe.
the reason i am tolerant.
the reason i understand.
the reason i fall.
the reason i fly.
the reason i write...
the reason i am what i am!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sonnet: Misjudge Him Not, O Critic
Go to hell, ye critic who tries in vain,
A poet’s love-affair to unravel;
His sensuous sex details- to pry insane;
From his own poems composed, a marvel.
Remember thou, the poet’s a Creator!
And with time, turns a literary Wizard;
In the art of painting words, a Master;
Who can write even about a lizard!
Oh, denigrate not, man of such greatness,
With silly conjectures, thine assumptions;
Mar not his name with acts of carelessness,
Belittling his work beyond redemption.
Oh, let the man in each poet remain!
And judge his art for art’s sake, sans disdain.
poem by John Celes
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Empdeocles
I
He leaped. With none to hinder,
Of Aetna's fiery scoriae
In the next vomit-shower, made he
A more peculiar cinder.
And this great Doctor, can it be,
He left no saner recipe
For men at issue with despair?
Admiring, even his poet owns,
While noting his fine lyric tones,
The last of him was heels in air!
II
Comes Reverence, her features
Amazed to see high Wisdom hear,
With glimmer of a faunish leer,
One mock her pride of creatures.
Shall such sad incident degrade
A stature casting sunniest shade?
O Reverence! let Reason swim;
Each life its critic deed reveals;
And him reads Reason at his heels,
If heels in air the last of him!
poem by George Meredith
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Poem about Poetry - what is not poetry
writing lines
not like a child
writing lines
robotlike
hitting at keys
rather than own heart
writing lines
throwing words
which are yet
our friends
words picked
from thesaurus
dictionaries
for word's sake
an alley of prostitutes
we treat as our wives
godless
writing as if
the world
possesses
no soul and
god, the real poet
who spares symbols
for his creation
trees, lightning,
thunder
for poets
to colour their world
to see the other side
of the world
how the trees, lightning
thunder
are a part of men
themselves
described,
the trees - spring of youth
lightning - rage
thunder - warning
the warming effect
god's verse to men's uncaring verse
misinterpretation of his symbols
god the leading poet
the world a repository of symbols
for his masterpiece
a masterpiece
we could only admire
the real poet leaves us
something to ponder about
and to add a verse or two
to his work
like the almighty poet
who when he likes
answers us back
in riddles
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Thanks Mom for Everything!
You are my Mother,
My Mentor
My Maker
You taught me how to be nice
To read
To write.
You taught me how to pick up after myself
Believe in myself.
You showed me your mistakes
So I could be a better person.
You taught me to believe in Jesus.
You are my MOM
You are the reason I am here today!
Thank You Mom.
poem by Walter Burlock
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