The true poet is all the time a visionary and whether with friends or not, as much alone as a man on his death bed.
quote by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Meaning of Death
when a poet writes of death
don't take it literally
death has many meanings
which differ significantly
to a poet death might mean
death of a past
which is a new beginning
one that might last
death to a poet is life
time to start a new chapter
turn the page
turn sadness into laughter
to a poet death is a new start
ending of strife
closing, locking the doors
of their old life
death has so many meanings
not only for a poet
all parts of life leads to death
some just don't know it
death means change
chance for a new beginning
put the past behind
stop losing, start winning
so to a poet
death is not always bad
we must write our feelings
whether good or sad
p.s.not sure this makes much sense
but i was buzzed ;)
poem by Sandy Nobody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is a Friend?
True friends will never let each other down
True friends will tell each other when they are right or wrong
True friends listen to their problems without casting judgment
True friends are never afraid to tell you like it is
A true friend knows when to say no
A true friend will never flop you
A true friend will be supportive of all you do
A true friend will be there to dry your weeping eyes
A true friend will lend a shoulder for you to cry on
A true friend cares how you are doing
A true friend cares about your day-to-day life
A true friend always calls and checks up on you
A true friend gives of himself/herself without asking for anything in return
A true friend would not lend you money but give you whatever they can
A true friend may argue, fuss, and fight with you but will always be there for you
A true friend forgives you for your shortcomings
A true friend will come to your aid no matter what time of day it is
A true friend doesn’t wait to hear from you to make the first call
A true friend just calls to chitchat with you
A true friend is like a Godsend in times of perils
A true friend is always welcoming
A true would give you the coat off their backs
A true friend knows enough is enough
A true friend will be by your side when you need them the most
A true friend will run an intercept or blockage for you
True friends will CYA for each other
True friends knows that this world wasn’t promised to us
True friends make the best of a bad situation
True friends keeps each others secretes
True friends keeps no secretes from one another
True friends share each other’s lives
A true friend is forever
Are you a true friend?
Ask yourself that question
Can you be a true friend?
Do you deserve a good friend?
There are no goodbyes in life, just hellos
Hello friend
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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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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Friends
Making new friends is like
Being reborn for which
True friends
Are as if you’ve become
Blood related
All in your own choosing
The friends that stay a life time
Are as close to you as a
A brother or sister
But
The friends that come and go
Are just another faze that
You’ll go through and come out of
Picking your friends is as crucial
As picking your religion
For witch both will and can
Change you life
Save your life
Or
Destroy your life forever
For they are what you
Shape the map of your entire life with
The society in witch you grow-up in shapes
The person you and your friends
Will become on day
So pick your friends wisely cause before long
You’ll be asking yourself if I’m ever in a life or death situation
Would you save my life?
Can I trust you to?
If the answer is no then you need to think about
Why you don’t trust them
What about them makes you not
Trust them
If the answer is yes then you
Have a true friend
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keeping Friends Like These
It's important to have friends.
Not just associates...
But true friends.
The ones that will tell you,
What you don't want to hear...
Regardless of your fears.
The ones who are upfront,
And share what is on their minds.
The ones you might have disagreements with...
From time to time.
It's important to have friends.
The ones you can count on through thick and thin.
The ones who are around,
When marriages and relationships come to an end.
The ones who are there...
Caring with a warm shoulder in your despair.
The ones who refuse to choose,
To compare their blues...
As if they can and have walked in your shoes.
But true friends who can be found...
To lift you up when you are down.
Friends like this...
Know when you need them around!
And no one has to ask them to leave...
When you've become impossible to please.
Keeping friends like these,
Is to your benefit!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True Friends Remain
I have friends,
Very few friends I only trust,
They were there for me when I needed them the most,
A true friends indeed,
They took me under their wings and show me there is meaning in life,
Friends indeed they’re,
I care for them as they cares for me,
True friends remain in my own domain,
How I love them as if they were my sister or my brother,
They’re my true friend,
And I shall try my best to be their true friend as well.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friends
Words and music by Andy Summers
I likes to eat my friends and make no bones about it
I likes to eat my friends, I couldn't do without it
Ain't a man or poet, friend, I know just how you'll taste
Your limbs go sliding down my throat and never go to waste
Your death, of course, will sadden me, until I grok your essence
I know your life was not in vain when digestion is commencing
Consider this a celebration and the deepest pact of friends
And I hope that you will dine on me when I come to an end
(ah....)
Even friends may come to you with a new found revelation
But think of it as life renewed and not their termination
"To know you is to eat you" should be the code of lovers
Death brings the highest act of love preserved for one another
(ah....)
People say that what you are is only what you eat
And my friends become a part of me, oh well it's then that life's complete
To know you is to eat you, the act of love supreme
Each one of us inside himself can appetise the dream
(ah....)
(to fade
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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Greatest Questions
Little boy;
What does thy know about destiny?
The poet;
I know but little about destiny
Little boy;
If ye tells me I know I will live life peacefully
The poet;
Destiny is like a wind which blows in the arabian sea,
Upon which it next direction is unknown,
You will see men growing greatly at their tender age but their next minute is unpredictable
Then, reverse it could be my former line
Little boy;
You mean destiny is like a deep wide sea
Which the direction you follow leads you any where
The poet;
Hey!
Brother we began our lives here
Tomorrow you may be richer than I
The creator has already created us before we exist
Little boy;
Then I will go to a sorcerer to foresee my destiny
The poet;
Destiny can never be look into
Even those who are summon
By the name foreseers
Do not know when termite will eat them
Little boy;
Can destiny be ever change?
The poet;
It can be change only with prayer
But my lord only give those he will
Little boy;
When shall we die?
The poet;
And so I laugh...
Death is inevitable
Non but my lord and those who had gone
Can talk about it
Little boy;
I mean
How will I die?
The poet;
For you know not where and how you were born
The the knowledge of
Where and how you will die remains with Allah
He creates the world and know every hidden things.
Little boy;
How can I live this world
The poet;
Boy!
Walk as if non is looking at you
Talk as if non is listening to you
Think as if you are thinking for others
Pray and make sacrifice
Have I Lost The 'Visionary Gleam?
HAVE I LOST ‘THE VISIONARY GLEAM?
Have I lost the ‘visionary gleam’?
Did I ever have it?
Is Death ‘luckier than we’ think
Or ‘lucky’ at all?
How supreme can a fiction be?
And whoever really has drunk ‘the milk’ of paradise?
Why should a rose be sick or dead?
And why should ‘patience to prevent that murmur reply’?
Who said ‘The glory of God is davka in dappled things?
And what kind of fool compares what he builds to what ‘birds build’?
Can a skeptic be a poet in a real way?
Can poetry be read by those who doubt the truth of its lines?
Wasn’t he who said beauty is truth and truth beauty dying and lying at the same time?
What does it mean to steal a line of someone else‘s great beauty
And turn it into one’s own petty gripe?
Poetry is better served by the real thing,
Than by pastiches and parodies
And skeptical borrowers
And fake rivals in anxiety of influence-
One can take from the vast book of the living dead
The most treasured lines
And betray them into irony and silliness-
Yet those lines out-top the little later commentators
And make me wonder why I exercise my mind
In vain exercises like this
Instead of trying to write the true poetry-
‘Life is real life is earnest and the grave is not the goal’
Here he lies where he longed to be, home is the sailor home from the sea and the hunter from the hill’
Master of my fate, captain of my soul?
Do not take the lines literally
Read them with love and understanding
When they say something meaningful and beautiful to you
Hold on to them.
A poem is a poem for a that
Even for the wee slick cowrin beasties.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet vs Poem
Does a poet makes poem
Or poem makes poet?
The eternal war goes on.
The big confusion who will solve it?
Poet fight with sword of pen.
Poem armoured with shield of senses.
Poet tries to rich sky high,
Poem pulls rope of meaning and tenses.
Does poet sketc the poem
Or poem drags him through the invigible gravity.
A piece of paper becomes battlefield.
The war of ink and vocabulary,
Creates a historic beauty.
Poet cages the poem in a book.
Where the world will look.
Praises all to poet 'oh how great'
But the poem is what counts after his death.
poem by Saurav Karki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True Love
I love my wife
She loves me
I love my children
They love me
I love my friends
They love me too
I love my colleagues
They love me
In all these love 'affairs'
There is an under current
As in all these
There is or are some common points
Where we meet
If the common point ceases to exist
Probably we fall apart
Closer the association
The common point has a very large base
And is sustained
So that the affairs continue
Very likely we work together
For achieving some goals
True love is
A kind of emotion
Which keeps you enthused
And helps you perform
With the best of your potential
There is no in-return relationship
In case of true love
It flows down in all directions
Submerging the beneficiary
With nothing but love
The oft-used word love
Can be demonstrated
By sharing, shouldering,
By accommodating, accepting,
By expressions, gifts
True love is just felt
True love does not cry
When the other is pain
But goes unasked for relieving the same
True love does not just offer
A shoulder for you to lean upon
It works out the means to ease you
Love is emotional
True love is promotional
Love is blind
True love is a visionary
Helping the other to build a future
Love is god
True love is spirit
That keeps you driving far
And beyond your expectations
Love needs someone to be present
True love can be felt even in absence
Love hurts
True love heals
Love hates
True love does only love
And for the loving sake
Let us love
But let us truly love
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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A Poet’s Song
A poet’s song
Is one of singing.
A poet’s song
Is one of felling.
A poet’s song
Is one of thanksgiving
A poet’s song
Is one of understanding.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat. Norville.
Cretics Welcome.
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet's Hope.
The wild hope of the poet finds a home
In the immaterial, as he clothes himself
In visionary raiment far off, where
The echoes of eternity are heard
And the immortal entities appear.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Golden Friendship
friends come
and friends go
some say
new friends
are silver
old friends
are gold
i say this is true
new friends
more precious
than silver
old friends
more valuable
than gold
a true friend comes
and never goes
friends are one
of many of
God's gifts
to all his children
poem by Rachel Nichols
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Scarecrow
Unblinking eyes always watching, always searching, never seeing,
Stoic man of straw guards the crops, never jumps and never hops,
Black birds of opportunity seek to doom this friendly community,
Menace of flight prey on corn, the village without will forever mourn,
Absent of straw they would all die, if not for this man who never lies,
He cannot fly, he cannot speak, without his presence the crows havoc would wreak,
His job is thankless, he is not paid, without jest he is portrayed,
He will not quit, he will not sway, the flying apparitions will lose this day,
Though he cannot speak or ever murmur, he watches as the crow gather, ready to murder,
Man of straw ready to fight, every day and every night, he fights for life,
He braces for the end and thinks of his friends,
The black cloud of death draws ever near and the scarecrow never shows fear,
All moments of carnage and chaos must come to an end, even if the Strawman must die for his friends,
For his death he is always ready, blood never pumping, for he's brain-dead already,
To be alive is not bleeding nor breathing, but living with a meaning,
The Strawman's will is strong and true, he will stand tall no matter what they do,
His friends in danger and doomed to die, more time is all he can buy,
Masks of fright they all wear, a fight to the death is never fair, masks of death everywhere,
As death from above comes ever near, all he can do is watch them with a smile and a sneer,
If time for his friends is all he can buy, then today is a good day to die.
poem by Ruik Caldorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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