Alas, A Bard’s a Bruised Reed!
They make me mad- some people, known/ unknown;
They make me sad- their wiliness / ego;
They’re after money’s comfort on this earth!
Sense/ common-sense are things that’re a dearth.
They know how poets have suffered in life!
They know how poets land in utter strife!
They stay unmoved/ inert- husband or wife:
They wound my heart with words akin a knife.
Oh how I wish I should be, never me!
Oh how I wish I were akin to them;
Yet, I can’t simply change: I’m thus destined;
To Poesy must Bards always well bind.
Poetry isn’t something that pays at once;
It isn’t something that gives plenty returns;
A Poet seeks the truth without/ within;
And Truth is God: God abhors only sin!
Being like earthlings is not always right;
The destiny of world, poets do fight;
Most Bards cannot be dishonest, may be;
Their minds are fixed to Eternity.
And if they change, could they God realize?
Good Bards prefer to be always soul-wise;
And like a phoenix die, again arise;
And show the world to be heavenly-wise!
Oh, one can’t take me for an easy ride;
I can’t my emotions and passions hide;
I can’t live on with ego great and pride;
My thoughts to be aright, God helps decide.
The superfluous from the thing that’s deep;
The virtual/ surreal from real;
The transient from what is permanent;
God help me to know and my soul to keep.
Alas, a Poet is a bruised reed!
His works on earth are immortal indeed;
His heart of love is uniquely his creed;
His mind wants peace and never yearns for greed!
Alas, a Bard’s a bruised reed!
poem by John Celes

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Related quotes
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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Letter To A Young Poet Revised
Letter to a young Poet
Dear Raman, so you want me to read your poem and state my opinion.
Well, you are fond of words and you are stacking them up in your poem.
That is a good thing; clearly you are a man who reads a lot.
So you want to be a poet, poetry is self indulgent pass time it doesn’t
change anything, no one reads it, other than cranky people. Should
a poet writes something nationalistic that resonance with, a nation’s
pride, like: “my country is the best in the world.” He will get a medal.
So why don’t you become an engineer or failing that, a cook. The world
doesn’t need, anymore academic poets who forever repeat what poets
of yore have said. For the common man a poet is regarded as a figure of
fun who spends valuable time putting useless words together to make
sense of a world he doesn’t understand. As my father said, when my first
poem was published: “How much did they pay you? ” If my words have
not scared you off, you’re a poet. The only tool you’ll need is honesty.
poem by Oskar Hansen

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PH, To Me
When I joined the ranks of poets
At PH a few months hence
I found a group of people
Whom I now consider friends
Though, as a poet, I suspect,
I’ll ne'er be thought renowned
Still I love to show my work
Where it’s seen the world around
This site has been a boon to me,
Writing more than I used to,
And I think, by reading other bards
My own work’s been improved
I see this site as a privilege
And, one not to be abused
When angry tensions oft arise
It leaves me quite confused
Each item I submit in verse
Though meaningful to me
I suspect that, not, to all who read
Twill be their cup of tea
At times, much better poets
Than I, their work, submit
And even though, I know it’s great
I just can’t “get into” it
But if, alas, I take offense
At values, different than my own
I, simply, note the poet’s name
Click the mouse and move along
If a rude and contentious poet
Should offend enough, on site
Their work, no longer, would be read
Which would be their ultimate price
Copyright C R Clark-4/28/2008
poem by C.R. Clark

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Potential Poetry!
Love has no fear whatsoever in the world;
Poet does all by his love of all matters here;
Poetry is inspiring words of poet for all!
What's not possible by poetry is nothing!
Impossible is expressed in possible words
Making unknown known by poetry only!
Forms and style are poets own creations;
Poetry is ever new in expression of ideas
Inspiring all to be enthusiastic, enlightened!
Love of Nature, life, beauty and love poetry
Explores always deep to express truth new!
Poets are gods of Earth to men to new realm!
Poetry briefly converges all in a nutshell
As powerful as atomic energy in control!
poem by Ramesh T A

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A Word from the Bards
IT IS New Year’s Day and I rise to state that here on the Sydney side
The Bards have commenced to fill out of late and they’re showing their binjies with pride
They’re patting their binjies with pride, old man, and I want you to understand,
That a binjied bard is a bard indeed when he sings in the Southern Land,
Old chaps,
When he sings in the Southern Land.
For the Southern Land is the Poet’s Home, and over the world’s wide roam,
There was never till now a binjied bard that lived in a poet’s home, old man;
For the poet’s home was a hell on earth, and I want you to understand,
That it isn’t exactly a paradise down here in the Southern Land,
Old chap,
Down here in the Southern Land.
The Beer and the Bailiff were gone last night and the “temple” doorstep clean,
And our heads are clear and our hearts are light with wine from the Riverine—
With wine from the Riverine, old man, and I want you to understand
That Bard, Beer and Bailiff too long were kin down here in the Southern Land,
Old man,
Down here in the Southern Land.
It is not because of a larger fee, nor yet that the bards are free,
For the bards I know and the bards I see are married enough for three;
Are married enough for three, old man, and I want you to understand,
They’ve a right to be married enough for four, down here in the Southern Land,
My girl,
Down here in the Southern Land.
But I think it’s because a bird went round and twittered in ears of men
That bards have care and the world seems bare as seen from the rhyming den,
And twittered in ears of men, old chaps, and got folks to understand
That a poet is something more than a joke down here in the Southern Land,
Old man,
Down here in the Southern Land.
poem by Henry Lawson

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God's Poets A Good Poem & Love
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Poets Expresion
People are for ever correcting
A poet's right to express
Those of us who use English
As a second language
At times do make mistakes
But a Poets Expression
Stamps a mark on your mind
To imagine and dream
About worlds of the unknown
You delve in their minds
And stir the images of life
And implant them your expressions
Your expressions on life
Poets are many with their
Own impressions on life
Give up to the poet's
And clap them with praise
So from this poet who dreams?
To be just like them
Wise and experienced
In sharing my dreams
Fare thee well good poets
Encore and good night
poem by Kaila George

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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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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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Ocean of wisdom Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Vinapanee blessth to make wise;
Illiterates’ become wise with her bliss.
Appears in profound solitude;
Loves poets’ gratitude.
Mother is a Divine Deity;
Is the cause of Earth’s Beauty.
With her bliss poet’s name dazzles in passes of history;
She is a Broke of Delight.
With her bliss poets are immortal on Earth;
Her love is an Ocean of mirth.
Mother loves poets, singers, film stars;
With profound love she contents their desires.
Mother provides inspiration to live peacefully;
People being educated live delightfully.
Provides qualitative education;
Is the benevolent Deity of creation.
Mother eradicates illiteracy;
In all people plays waves of delight.
Poet’s surrender on the feet of Mother;
Contents poet’s desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra

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Evolutionary Poet
Forgive this poet, to suppose
Poetry to be more than prose
Think me not romantic fool
Nor subject of thy ridicule
I seek transition, mind to heart
The place where truth resides
There’s much wisdom to impart
From ones soul 'n inner guides
Social conscience good poet be
A voice, within vast sea of voices
Impassioned words with cogency
Words diverse, as man’s choices
Great change implores poets unite
Too bravely flame of truth ignite
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero

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On Looking Back Upon My Poesy's Past!
For long a time, I've travelled by this road!
For quite some years, I'd taken poesy's wings;
For hours on end, I struggled with my pen;
A lifetime's work is already now writ!
I did not start expecting great rewards;
I do not hanker for any awards;
I know I'm one among the well-known bards;
My accolades are not yet in my cards!
Many a thing, we do for love of it;
Some things we do better, for we are fit;
Most things in life don't duly get lime-lit;
Nevertheless, we carry on by wit!
But seasons ought to change as time goes on;
It is not good to have always the sun;
Some things in life remain for long half-done;
But pride is one thing we must always shun!
Good poetry must guide the future men;
Good poetry must make the earth, heaven;
Good poetry must kindle heart and ken;
When readers read them, they must say, ‘amen! '
I have done well despite my struggles past;
This earthly span may not for longer last;
My ship of poesy has now a mast;
But I have reached the ocean very vast!
poem by John Celes

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Letter To A Young Poet
Dear Raman, so you want me to read your poem and state my opinion.
Well, you are fond of words and you are stacking them up in your poem.
That is a good thing; clearly you are a man who reads a lot.
So you want to be a poet, poetry is self indulgent’ it never starts a war
nor finished it. Should a poet write something that resonance with,
the sentiment of a nation, you can be sure it will be used by politicians
and interpreted for their dubious plans.
So why don’t you become an engineer or failing that, a cook. The world
doesn’t need, anymore academic poets who forever repeat what poets
of yore have said. For the people a poet is regarded as a figure of fun
who spends valuable time putting useless words together to make sense
of a world they don’t understand. As my father said when I published
my first poem: “How much did they pay you? ” So if my words have not
scared you off you’re a poet. All you need is intellectual honesty.
poem by Oskar Hansen

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God's Most Publisghed Poet & A Good Poem
GOD'S MOST PUBLISGHED POET
I'm God's most published poet
Whose poems have meter and rhyme.
Stories of love, faith, hate, honor and duty,
Obedience, war, heroes, history and crime.
I've performed my gift on T.V. and radio
Before millions I've never met.
Preached my praise of God and country
With 462 poems on the net.
Satan's soldiers, shepherds and bards
Spew forth their foulness and grief.
They attack the joy and goodness of man
Dishonoring life, family, country and belief.
Prospering through work, love and conviction
Enables us to remain whole and how we should be.
Fortifying our soul with fulfillment of faith
Lets our worst tribulations be shouldered by Thee.
Moses, Samson, David, Solomon and Jonah
All failed God in their own human way.
He chose to forgive them and bless their powers
So they might dwell in hearts of man today.
Without God's grace, wisdom and glorious domain
There's no doubt all would soon cease to survive.
Through purpose, morals and Christian conviction
We are able to transform and keep hope alive.
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent his poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom Zart's 462 Poems Are Free To Share To Teach Or Show Support!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet On The Web!
Google = Tom Zart's Radio Shows
God's Poets, Love & A Good Poem
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
EVERY OTHER NIGHT
If it was left to me and my desire
I would seek satisfaction every other night.
I would enjoy your divine, God given love
And hold you forever close and tight.
Every other night would be Heavenly for me
Though I must respect and honor what you do and say.
My need for you is far greater than your need for me
As I patiently wait for our time of play.
I will always remain watchful, loving and caring
Not to hurt, destroy, mistrust, dissatisfy or offend.
Out of all God's blessings from Heaven to Earth
You're my greatest treasure, passion and friend.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom's 465 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/
Heart And Minf Fight
My mind says,
Stay in the room
My heart says,
See the universe
My mind says,
She has only a body
My heart says,
She has a beautiful soul
My mind says,
Get the degree
My heart says,
Get the knowledge
My mind says,
Kill the neighbor
My heart says,
Love the neighbor
My mind says,
Plunder the entire world
My heart says,
Give to the world
My mind says,
God is not here
My heart says,
God is here
My mind says,
Rule on the earth
My heart says,
Live equal on the earth
My mind says,
Invent new weapons
My heart says,
Keep the peace
My mind says,
He is a small man
My heart says,
He is a big man
My mind says
He is ignorant
My heart says,
He is wise
My mind says,
Live for money
My heart says,
Live in love
My mind says,
He heart you
My heart says,
Forget his mistake
My mind says,
Don’t agree with his opinion
My heart says,
I respect his opinion
My mind says,
You are great poet
My heart says,
You are nothing
poem by Aroon George

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Sonnet: Poetry Betters Men And The World
I want to make the world a better place,
To live; All-men to think aright and fill
Their hearts with joy; each one to have a face
With smiles and body, mind that are not ill.
I want to contribute my mite in ways,
I can and mitigate the sufferings
Of men; so that they see far better days
And live a life that’s fit for all Earthlings.
I know that Poets cannot save the World;
But they can surely show the road aright,
That leads them to the Almighty, One Lord,
Who is the Way and Truth and Guiding-Light.
As man alone can wonder, imagine,
Then, Poetry will help men lessen sin.
poem by John Celes

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Our Poetry Critics
Our poetry critics ageing males on saturday evenings from six to nine
Meet at the literary room of the Lions Club to do what suits them fine
To talk of poetry and poets each to their point of view
Though they agree on one thing that good poets only few.
Well educated gents of course and they could not be rude
But contemporary rhyme poets only poetasters and them they exclude
From their talk of poets and poetry and in their literary knowledge they take pride
And who is or who is not a poet seems their right to decide.
They never talk about bush poets such verse they see as slipshod
And they see them as the children of the lesser poetry god
And for their years in Uni they have their degrees to show
And of poets and of poetry so much they think they know.
To them a poem is not a poem unless it reads like prose
And a ballad different from true verse as a weed is from a rose
And true poets only write for the privileged few that's what they do imply
And never for the ordinary, people like you and I.
Our poetry critics at the Lions they meet on saturday
And who is a good poet and what is a good poem each like to have their say
And if you wish to become a member of their club you must have your Uni Degrees
For if not to them you are not qualified for to talk about poetry.
poem by Francis Duggan

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The Poets Of The Tomb
The world has had enough of bards who wish that they were dead,
'Tis time the people passed a law to knock 'em on the head,
For 'twould be lovely if their friends could grant the rest they crave --
Those bards of `tears' and `vanished hopes', those poets of the grave.
They say that life's an awful thing, and full of care and gloom,
They talk of peace and restfulness connected with the tomb.
They say that man is made of dirt, and die, of course, he must;
But, all the same, a man is made of pretty solid dust.
There is a thing that they forget, so let it here be writ,
That some are made of common mud, and some are made of GRIT;
Some try to help the world along while others fret and fume
And wish that they were slumbering in the silence of the tomb.
'Twixt mother's arms and coffin-gear a man has work to do!
And if he does his very best he mostly worries through,
And while there is a wrong to right, and while the world goes round,
An honest man alive is worth a million underground.
And yet, as long as sheoaks sigh and wattle-blossoms bloom,
The world shall hear the drivel of the poets of the tomb.
And though the graveyard poets long to vanish from the scene,
I notice that they mostly wish their resting-place kept green.
Now, were I rotting underground, I do not think I'd care
If wombats rooted on the mound or if the cows camped there;
And should I have some feelings left when I have gone before,
I think a ton of solid stone would hurt my feelings more.
Such wormy songs of mouldy joys can give me no delight;
I'll take my chances with the world, I'd rather live and fight.
Though Fortune laughs along my track, or wears her blackest frown,
I'll try to do the world some good before I tumble down.
Let's fight for things that ought to be, and try to make 'em boom;
We cannot help mankind when we are ashes in the tomb.
poem by Henry Lawson

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Sonnet: Poetry’s Forever
Earth’s poetry can never die with ease,
As long as sun rises and sets each day;
For it affords music and mental peace,
And born are poets world-o’er in God’s way.
When Mother Nature inspires a heart,
Evoking feelings turned to words by art,
The readers feel the same right from the start;
The magic-beauty of poetry’s part.
And poetry is about many things,
And helps man live exemplary a life;
And immense joy and peace, it also brings,
And helps the human beings combat strife.
So, poetry will live on earth until,
Men climb the earthly-hill by Heaven’s Will!
poem by John Celes

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