A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom after the seventh day of creation.
quote by Friedrich Nietzsche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only the most acute and active animals are capable of boredom. - A theme for a great poet would be God's boredom on the seventh day of creation.
quote by Lewis Cass
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory Of Me As A Poet,
memory of me as a poet,
My doleful soul need's the great memory of me as a poet,
The pure memory taught me of the spontaneous event's of life,
How creation gave me authority to reveal such a strong poetic verse,
I recited the poem in my mind only to realise the great motor memory,
But pure memory revealed all my past writing,
I can relive my past only by the memory of the great history,
Global memory took my mind to think of the great poet.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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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
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I'm April the seventh
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with drops of rain beating my heart away
with drops of wine dried in my mouth
and tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
sitting in the dark room
after a head over heal night
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a scarf around my neck
and high heels on my feet
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a book I'm about to read
a cigarette I am about to smoke
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a kiss left on my left hand
feet shuffling all along the floor
and the tango I've just danced
all tinkling across my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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In Memory Of The Unknown Poet, Robert Boardman Vaughn
But the essential advantage for a poet is not, to have a beautiful world with which to deal: it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
T. S. ELIOT
It was his story. It would always be his story.
It followed him; it overtook him finally—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
Probably at the end he was not yet sorry,
Even as the boots were brutalizing him in the alley.
It was his story. It would always be his story,
Blown on a blue horn, full of sound and fury,
But signifying, O signifying magnificently
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
I picture the snow as falling without hurry
To cover the cobbles and the toppled ashcans completely.
It was his story. It would always be his story.
Lately he had wandered between St. Mark’s Place and the Bowery,
Already half a spirit, mumbling and muttering sadly.
O the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
All done now. But I remember the fiery
Hypnotic eye and the raised voice blazing with poetry.
It was his story and would always be his story—
The boredom, and the horror, and the glory.
poem by Donald Justice
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Seventh Heaven
Ive been to places where the sun goes down
Each day and never rises
Ive been to places in a dark room
Where we played with our disguises
Heaven, Im in heaven
Im in seventh heaven now
Seventh heaven
It was a dream, I heard a voice
I put it down to wishful thinking
It was a dream, a silent scream
Out of the blue, a new beginning
Heaven, Im in heaven
Im in seventh heaven now
Seventh heaven
And then I fell upon a stroke of luck
That led to my good fortune
And then I fell upon my knees
And gently kissed the ground you walk on
Heaven, Im in heaven
Im in seventh heaven now
Seventh heaven
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'Architect and Builder
Ere time elapsed or creation began
You drew up Your wondrous salvation plan.
A mighty universe was to be made
through which Your glory would be displayed
Builder of all things both seen and unseen
of every earthly and heavenly scene.
Angelic hosts their great praises render
as creation appeared in all its splendour.
Its great Architect and Builder was God
and the streets of His creation He trod.
Climbing the steep path to Calvary's hill
His great Plan of Salvation to fulfil.
To build again the New Jerusalem
and fill its streets with children of Abraham
To build the Church each stone a living soul
each one born again and in Christ made whole
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
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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Inspiration
Poet provides pleasure of society in various way;
In human beings provides, penetrates rays of gay.
Provides inspiration;
Is an honest creature is God’s creation.
Poet inspires all categories of people in society;
Encourages them earning properly live with delight.
Through poems tries upliftment of society;
People of all religions, castes live with gaiety.
Poet loves minister’s honesty;
Loves employee’s punctuality.
Derives pleasure from the innocence of cultivator;
Loves to remain in the sweet lap of Nature.
Poet is an honest advisor of society;
From good activities of society derives delight.
Loves woman’s devotion;
Loves beauty of creation.
Poet encourages students to a acquire wisdom;
Depicts verses on the truth of creation.
Loves peace, honest administration;
Depicting poems drinks nectar from the brook of creation.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Seventh Sign
Ive been sailin cross the ocean
With the devil by my side
Ive been flyin cross the great blue sky
But theres nowhere to hide
Ive been standin by the crossroads
Ive been lookin for a clue
Ive been prayin for the human race
There s not a lot I can do
Ive been waitin for the warnin
As we look to the sky now
We all seem lost if you ask me why
Its the seventh sign
See the blood-red sky tonight
Its the seventh sign
See the blood red sky
Theres a voice out on the wasteland
It says were runnin out of time
I used to think the world could change
Lord I must have been blind
Ive been cryin out for mankind
Ive been hangin on to faith
But the comin of a messenger
Says its much too late
We could all come together
And gather all around
What good is war when we all go down
Its the seventh sign
See the blood-red sky tonight
Its the seventh sign see the blood red sky
song performed by by Europe
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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God is the best poet
He thinks this world is not a poet’s game!
How can he hate the poet but love poem!
It’s like loving the creation and hating the Creator
Although from every perspective God is better!
He has not known yet
God is the best poet!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery beauty passes on the way;
Poet beholds the beauty of Beauty with gay.
The creation of Nature is alluring;
Innocent Beauty is dazzling.
Beautiful face allures passes by;
Allures lovers with gay.
Beauty is the creation of Almighty;
Beholding, poet derives gaiety.
Beauty tranquilises poet's mind on the way;
Poet derives profound peace with gay.
Curly crisp wavy long cloudy hairs entice the poet;
Mind remains in the world of peace with delight.
Innocent beautiful face allures the poet in evening;
Poet's mind is delighting.
With a little conversation mind is peaceful;
Her sweet talk is delightful.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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War is Boredom
War is Boredom
War is Boredom
War can be defined as long periods of boredom, short burst of terror, seemingly lasting forever, To those who are there, Waiting for another outburst, which never seems to cease.
You Pray, you count all your blessings, the outgoing not what you fear, its the incoming that can't be trusted.
War can be defined as boredom, for those who's life was spared, as the days in between that matters, on those who life spent there.
2008
poem by Charles Garcia
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Seventh Son
Everybodys talking bout a seventh son,
In the whole round world theres only one
Im the one,
Yes, Im the one,
Im the one, Im the one,
The one they call the seventh son.
I can tell your future, it will come to pass,
I can do things for you; make your heart feel glad,
Look in the sky, predict the rain,
I can tell when a womans got another man
Im the one,
Yes, Im the one,
Im the one, Im the one,
The one they call the seventh son
I can hold you close, I can squeeze you tight,
Make you cry for me both day and night,
Heal the sick and raise the dead,
Make little girls talk out of their heads.
Im the one,
Yes, Im the one,
Im the one, Im the one,
The one they call the seventh son
I can talk these words that sound so sweet,
Even make your little heart skip a beat,
I can heal the sick and raise the dead,
Make little girls talk out of their heads
Im the one,
Yes, Im the one,
Im the one, Im the one,
The one they call the seventh son
Im the one x 6
The one they call the seventh son
Im the one
Im the one
The one they call the seventh son.
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely:
Lonely,
So, so lonely,
I feel like that flower I seen today,
It was in a yard surrounded by nothing but weeds and grass, none of his flower friends were out with him swaying along with him in the breeze,
So he was swaying all alone in the breeze.
Lonely,
Lonely,
So, so lonely,
Along with the loneliness, comes along boredom,
To make me feel even worse,
Great!
Fabulous!
My boredom is growing old,
So, so old,
I am about to scream,
So as not to be board anymore,
Who is with me?
On this road of pure boredom?
poem by Sherry Painter
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I Am Not A Great Poet
I AM NOT A GREAT POET
I am not a great Poet-
I am not a great Writer-
I am not a great Thinker-
I took my father’s dream
of Greatness-
But I did not realize it.
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Voyager
Now, shes touched the earth - you feel her love
Pouring down like an endless rain
Of colours on your skin
She descends out of the blue,
A breathless victor of time
After more than a million light-years preparing her comeback
And shes rushing in
From the outside
On the crest of the seventh wave
Shes the crown of creation
Creating you
The voyager!
Is here to stay
The voyager!
Shes calling all stars
The voyager!
Shes riding a rainbow
The voyager!
Gives you the kiss of life
Watch out, you cant ignore whats going on
When your visions are drying out
Like the oceans from the underworld
Dont you know!
Before you turn to stone
You better head out for a royal trip
To the ivory city-side
And shes rushing in
From the outside
On the crest of the seventh wave
Shes the crown of creation
Creating you
The voyager!
Is here to stay...
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Proclamation
How many poems
must one write to be a poet?
None. An entire lifetime...
may be but a prostrate patterned poem.
How many poems must be
written to realize a great poet?
Only one. A single great
poem proclaims great poet.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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
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