Dead Poets Live
Dead poets live
With words left behind
To linger in life's pages
Read again by others
Who travel
That long road
Of Poetry.
Dead poets live
In verses left behind
To play like old songs,
Sang again, touching those
Who dare to sing
Harmony
In poems.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Poetry
To those of you who've never read poems
there is a vacancy in your homes.
For poets dream
and poets scream
words that should be said
and never left dead.
They speak of love in artful wonder
and even love that's torn asunder.
They tell the stories that affect the people.
Their hopes, their fears,
the ageing years
their laughing times,
their weeping tears.
Poetry has its own special flow.
If you've never read it you don't know
its magic with word
not silent but heard.
To evoke in the mind
something you find
with rhythm and cadences
allowing your senses
to come alive.
Alive.
Most poets are quiet except with their pen.
They become quite vociferous especially when
conveying to you what they deem to be true.
For poets are sensitive
to all they see.
They speak from the heart
and hope to be
inspirational, controversial
to awaken in you
a picture or image
for your mind to view.
Poems are music and praise for the soul
that hungers and thirsts
for you to become whole.
All of the poets who've come and gone
have left their thoughts and then moved on,
moved on to pursue loftier goals
accompanied by words to soothe their souls.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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For All The Poets
FOR ALL THE POETS
This is a poem for all the poets who have no name,
For all those who have written and failed,
And for those who have not written,
And failed.
This is a poem for all the poets who dreamed themselves poets,
And were never, and will be known as poets
To the world.
This a poem for all those
Who after years of effort
Still live in an oblivion
They will die in.
This is a poem for all those
Who whether they have poetry in them or not,
Will never be heard or read,
For what their hearts must tell
Someone else.
This is a poem for all the silent poets
Those who live in silence
And whose silence is eternal
For all those whose only poetry
is the poem they have lived within themselves.
This is a poem for all those who would- be poets
And a poem for those
Who despite their efforts
Did not make their poem known.
This is a poem which may be for you,
And I know is for me
A confession
To make us less alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Write Poems For Poets
I WRITE POEMS FOR POETS
I write poems for poets
Our situation as poets-
The longings the feelings
We so need to express-
The love of language-
The hunger for recognition-
The frequent rejection-
The kind word of a reader that moves-
Poems for poets
We as we each are
All so different-
And we as we share
Words and worlds
We hope to have read.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dead Poet's Harmony
I saunter this earth, in soul's dead
Digesting their beauty and what they said
Poets weaved my fate and mine destiny
With their song and beautiful harmony
I follow them as they follow me
Inside of me, inside of thee
Dead poets live in immortality..
And sing through we for an eternity..
It is in Keats internal rhyme, my poem's enzyme
Yeats Irish mist where my sentiment exist
Shakepeare's sonnets write my life's true love
Poe's raven stalks in the shadows of my woes
And behind Emerson's mind, my mind transcends
And from all Poets pain, my soul descends…
Every song must be sung, and every poem must be shone
As we saunter earth, and resurrect birth
To the dead poet's souls of our destiny
As we all write in their harmony
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Where is He - Is He Dead?
Where is he -
Is he dead?
Where is the poet
Whose poems I just read?
I hope he still writes
It's a pity if he's gone
He may have lost the fight
But his poems will live on.
We are like miners of gold
These poems are the treasure
Though all poets will grow old
We had the best of pleasure!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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A Fun Or Fate Poetry Writing?
Poetry writing has become a matter of fun!
With play of words many indulge in this fun;
Fun without fact will make poetry quite inept.
Fun or fate, some write poetry with true fact!
There are many things for them to have fun,
But it has become easy to play in poetry sites.
Also there are comments, voting and ranking;
These make them play this game regularly!
Fact is some are born poets in these sites also!
It is quite true some become poets sooner here!
Also it happens that some are branded as poets!
So goes the survival of these sites by this fun!
No poetry can survive long without fun and fact;
Fun or fate, poetry has become a part of life ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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On The Goddess Of Poesy
The Goddess of Poesy the Goddess of Song
To the Universal immortals she surely belong
The poets of the World her praises do sing
The gift of poetry to their souls she does bring.
The poets to write poems Goddess Poesy inspire
And of singing her praises they don't seem to tire
The poetry of sorrow the poetry of joy
The poetry of youth of the young girl and boy.
The poetry of youthfulness and of growing old
Of young women in their prime lovely to behold
The beauty of Nature the birds and the bees
The mammals and fishes of land and of seas.
The Goddess of poets of every gender race and creed
For their inspiration to write in her lives her they need
Of love, life and Nature she inspires poets to write
For the lovers of poetry to read and recite.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fate of Top Poems!
Past poets were remarkable by their poems only;
But present poets are made remarkable by others!
Poetry of the past are no doubt top poems ever;
But poetry of the top are not listed in top poems!
Becoming top poets how can theirs have no place
Among the top poems of the poetry list? I wonder!
Touch stone of the top poems depends on merit
But not by the supports of friends for fun ever!
Poems of lasting value only can become classic;
But poems of no merit also have become classic!
Poetry of the past are romantic and also classic
But poetry of the present are neither but modern!
What is the yardstick to select poems as top ones -
Just support of some but not merit and meaning?
poem by Ramesh T A
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Poetry That Belongs Only To Poets
POETRY THAT BELONGS ONLY TO POETS
Poetry that belongs only to other poets
Is not the highest poetry-
The highest poetry speaks to all
Who can hear and read it-
Let the specialists play their formal tricks for educated sophistry
The poets who speak to us
Are heard in the most simple heart.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The aged poet. For Kealan if
When he was young
and life was poetry
and poetry was life
and girls made poetry
in his heart
he’d showed his poems to
an aged poet who
was quiet a while then
nodded his head and
smiled and
said ‘keep writing’
and he swore that day
as long as he could hold a pen
he’d write some sort of poetry
and so he did and so he did
and when he was
too old to hold a pen
he spoke his poetry
some say in an Irish pub
and people came from miles around
and said sure it was a t’ousand times
better than to read his poems on the page
which was itself worth –
and that last phrase was poetry
for who is not Irish and a poet
and when he was too old
to walk down to the pub
they came and listened
at his door and at his window
and when he was too old to speak
they came to see his silence
and left as poets
for their head
had joined their heart
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A World Poetry Day!
Everyday is ever poetry day for poet!
World poetry day is poetry celebration
Especially for world people to honour
Poetry of all writings of the world ever!
Novels, stories and articles are in vogue
But poetry cannot be ever left as vague!
Matter of a book, a few pages of story or
An article of length Poetry says in a line!
Poetry is the essence of matters in nutshell,
A seed that grows into big tree with leaves,
Flowers and fruits to please and guide all
To live life better loving Nature and lives!
Sans the inspiration of religious philosophy
Said in echoing verses of world where is it
One can get solace and wisdom to face woes
Struggling on the ocean of life to swim or sink?
Poetry is oldest of old medium yet a modern one
Brief as telegraphic language conveying message
Beautifully, musically and echoingly as mantra
In avatars new ever using words and forms old!
World celebration of poetry day today is wonder
For poets and lovers of poetry on modern websites
Just as enjoying old wine in new bottles all over
World of human beings unique in whole Universe!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Versatilty
I think that I can claim to be
a poet who is versatile.
I try to write my poetry
in varied form and varied style.
I emulate and imitate
styles of great poets of the past.
To show that I appreciate
poets that time has over cast.
Although long dead their words live on.
A source of inspiration to
poets today.Though they’re long gone
and I give credit where its due.
Although some things I write are new
I cannot trace their origin.
I trust my muse as poets do.
She prods me until I begin.
She tells me there is no such thing
as writers block there cannot be.
A poor excuse for not writing
I’m not allowed to be lazy
That’s something she won’t tolerate
and drags me from my bed to write.
Though I protest the hour is late.
She is insistent that I write.
If she should choose to stay away
I’d seize the opportunity
to simple have a lazy day
Without my conscience pricking me.
11-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Read and Reread/ The Poets I Love
I READ AND REREAD/ THE POETS I LOVE
I read and reread
The poets I love-
I seek new poets
To love poetry more with-
I write my own small poems
And read them again occasionally-
Sometimes I find in them lines
I want to return to
And remember.
If only I could be such a stranger to myself
That I in reading a poem of my own
Would know it belongs to Literature.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Are A Few Poets
THERE ARE A FEW POETS
There are a few poets
Beyond the poetry you and I know
And are capable of –
There are a few poets
Who seem to write a poetry
Which is Poetry itself,
A Poetry which is everything Poetry should be-
Those poets are somewhere else
On a level far beyond any we can hope to reach-
They are Poetry –
And we we are the little listeners and readers
Who can in awe and praise worship
What we ourselves will forever be incapable of.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The literary life
We went to the house
of Afrikaans poetry together
on weekends and spent hours there
and listened to the master lecture
and met some poet friends
around a table
with a drink or two.
Sometimes the poetry was Afrikaans,
English, Dutch or even German
and we learnt form poets
around the globe.
We discussed what we had
just learned,
asked about his views
of certain things,
or what people in the group think,
discussed poetry, life,
sometimes even politics
and philosophy
as individuals of a group.
We read our poems,
listened to other poets,
reading their own,
analysed every word, every line
comprehending meaning, impact
and sharpened our art.
Your poetry was really great,
from when I read the very first line,
but mine had still to grow
from rhyme into free verse.
At times I hated comments
that forced me to move,
but realized that it was meant
with great goodwill
and even though I was in pain
I sharpened my verse
and free verse brought
a clearer ear, making it
much easier to write
great rhyme.
Now that I had to leave Pretoria,
weekends I really miss
that great writing school,
new poems from great poets,
learning something there,
experiencing poetry at its core,
lectures from that great master
and verses of his own,
but much more
your poems.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Poetries Travesty
Poetry is not such a pleasure
To those who live in reality
and it will forever be a leisure
To those who live in insanity
The world begrudges poetry with its whole being
For it involves a complex explanation
and from this we believe poetry is not worth reading
For it ensues exaggeration
Hearing poetry for many is torture
To poets this is an old calamity
What will come to them in the future
The great poets of this world’s society
One emotion shaped from a hand gesture
Made something in words; while dreaming
Yet even if poetry is not your pleasure
There will be a day we all will be believing
Paltry words speak of an insecure
Talent; tangible of tergiversation
and from this envoy we can ensure
That in this time there will be a transformation
poem by Joseph Michalski
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The First Poets
The First Poets hunted game in the forest and on the plains-
inventing signs and gestures; guttural sounds and mime-
and ultimately Words.
The First Poets wrote words and drew pictures
on the walls of caves
stamping their feet to drum-beats;
learning to dance.
The First Poets invented music for their words
religion, books and counting-conjuring up
in each instance-new things.
The First Poets imagined names for plants,
animals, birds and creatures of the sea;
sang songs about them-wrote poems and hymns.
creating sentiment, vows and promises-
marriage ceremonies.
Poets invented the idea of the Idea, of kindness, and visions.
Poets invented hope and the future, love of the past, community.
Poets invented the rhythm of our lives.
Poets re-invent themselves and civilization each generation.
They peer into the gauzy dream and dream what is not yet;
they peer inside themselves
reaching in
with-drawing something new
from that which had not been
there
before.
The First Poets invent and re-invent civilization each generation.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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