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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Related quotes
The Woman Who Loves Poesy
She has a twenty years old daughter but she leads a single life
And she knows what it feels like to be a mother but not to be a wife
Her great love is Goddess Poesy only poesy she admire
And her creative source it comes from poesy and poesy in her verse inspire.
She writes such beautiful poetry as a poet she is well known
And as a genuine wordsmith her reputation it has grown
The woman who loves poesy is good at what she do
At least one can say of her to her own self she is true.
Since writing poetry can be a hungry belly game the well informed say
She works as a bar maid in the Golf Club Rooms for to earn her hard earned pay
But all of her spare time devoted to poesy since poetry she loves to write
Her poems on many different subjects are a source of delight
To poetry lovers who read her verses and many of her say
That from penning verse she will grow wealthy and become quite well known one day
But she does not write for fame or money she only writes because she
Happens for to be a person devoted to Goddess Poesy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Awards For Greatness
Not all can get awards though deserving;
Some luck and pluck too decides awardees;
The heart knows if he/she truly deserves;
The rest remain unsung all life on earth!
Awards on earth are not the ultimate;
The greatest feats are forgotten by men;
The greatest men, women are things of past;
Achievers who get lime-light aren't greatest!
All things on earth return to dust with time;
Most famous monuments become rubble;
Even rivers do change their course often;
Nothing is permanent in earthly life!
The luckiest deserving get awards;
The less lucky can't make up to life's peak;
The unlucky forget what awards mean;
A toiling few cannot think of such things!
Yet, human toil must get recognition;
Awards, rewards encourage achievements;
A few are born with silver-spoon in mouth;
The rest great slip into oblivion!
Yet, hopelessness need not fill any mind;
A few are heros/heroines on earth;
A few are great on earth and in heaven;
A few turn greatest only in heaven!
poem by John Celes
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What Does Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a poem
Good poetry is a rhapsody
That makes my spirit roam
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from an ode
Good poetry is the world to me
It is the mother lode
What does poetry mean to me
What do I get from a verse
Good poetry makes my soul soar free
And lifts the darkest curse
What does poetry mean to me
A sorry sonofabitch
Good poetry grabs me by the balls
And makes my life seem rich
What does poetry mean to me
An ageing U3Aer
Good poetry takes me back to youth
To when I was a player
What does poetry mean to me
A frustrated would-be bard
Good poetry trips not off my pen
It’s far too blooming hard
Sonnet: Functions Of Poetry
In Poetry, the Bard's inpired heart,
Reveals its feelings in a wordy way;
Adhering to the basic rules of art,
And making life delightful everyday.
At times, ‘tis wholly the play of our mind;
Sometimes, an exercise of word-painting;
Good things in it, the readers always find,
That helps to live better by God-loving.
And Poetry must stand the test of time;
The best way 'tis to depict life as such;
And suggests ways to make it more sublime;
Affording readers with a magic-touch.
Yet, Poetry must reign supreme for long,
Tho' change with times just like a modern song.
poem by John Celes
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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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The Poetry Of Confession
THE POETRY OF CONFESSION
The poetry of confession -
The poetry of self- indulgence-
The poetry of the ‘wretch con-centered all in self’-
The poetry of moods and feelings-
Of all ideas only as they relate to the poet himself-
The poetry of desperation-
The poetry of need-
The poetry of urgency -
And serving the poet first-
Not enough of the world
Not enough of others- of other perspectives
Not formal and disciplined enough-
The poetry which is not crafted and polished
The poetry in which the need of the poet
Is more central than the quality of the poetry –
The poetry which may be too selfish to be good-
Whose moral failure makes more prominent its aesthetic flaws-
The poetry which is not so good
And not great
But quite banal and commonplace –
A poet can give his life to his poetry
And that still be nothing at all-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sonnet: The Man of Wisdom!
Most labor for immediate good returns;
Some work all life to pull off great a feat;
For benefits and earthly gains, heart yearns;
We always want success to come and greet!
The man of wisdom does not wish for these;
He does his duties all whole-heartedly;
He only wants at mind and heart some peace;
He prays to God all life repeatedly!
All earthly things are transient, worthless;
Our stay on earth prepares our soul for God;
Our needs of life God gives, nevertheless;
This human life’s most precious gift from Lord!
God’s blessings give anyone good awards;
God-willingly anyone gets rewards.
7-2-2006
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: On Good Poetry
The cause if noble, needs an effort great;
If nobler still, the struggle must be more;
If willed by God, unaltered 'tis by Fate;
Yes, Poetry has Life, its soul as core;
True Poetry is written from one's heart;
Its glory and beauty is forever;
Without a doubt, it involves effort, art;
Profound's the joy, evoked in each reader.
Good Poetry's a river flowing ev'r;
The Poet's mark is writ, 'etched', on its face;
Time cannot steal its beauty, value, pow'r;
It grows in fact, in height and girth and base.
Good Poetry's a sacrifice too great,
To God and Earthlings that can ne'er abate.
poem by John Celes
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Double Faced Poet
double faced poet
like day and night
light and darkness,
the bad side of
the other good side,
that is not what i
really mean,
it is not about good
and/or evil, it is about
how we do things:
poetry at night
and bread and butter
during the day, something
that makes the terror
of our creativity,
moon and sun
they may not come together
but they must exist
to make the whole
narration of a complete event.
rushing myself to write a poem
and then rethinking things over
a decision between life and/or death
liberty and/or prison, and so on and so forth,
this time, as you read, it is poetry.
as i sign out, it will be another face of me.
it is something that you cannot read.
it is hidden by the clouds
behind the sun and the moon and the stars.
it is something that disgusts me.
it is something that i do most of the time.
apart from this poem.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Change Of Time!
A change of time changes everything in life!
Glorious poetry turned into prose for use earlier;
Stories, novels and articles ruled prominent;
With the coming of computer poetry resurrected!
Now everybody enjoys indulging in poetry for fun;
Articles, stories and novels are superseded by poetry!
Many poetry websites entertain new poets daily;
Many enjoy poetry reading and writing at anytime!
Poetry has become cheap product for all to use;
Nobody thought that such a thing could happen!
Nobody buys poetry books but novels and magazines;
Is poetry a use and throw material only in market now?
The things that cannot be expressed in stories, novels
Are done in poetry to satisfy heart, thought and spirit!
poem by Ramesh T A
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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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The Poems As Diary
to know me
there is no other but this poetry
to know poetry however
please do not read
my diary
for this diary may fail the standards
of your poetry
but at any rate everyday poetry is a diary
what makes us fume like a mad cow
what makes us whistle like a satisfied lover
what makes us surrender in defeat and shout victory in triumphs
little things and big things
all summed up
in this new thing: diary as poetry
and poetry as diary.
we do not even have to rhyme
does life rhyme at all my friend?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the beginning of new life,
Poetry is in the tears of a child,
Poetry is in the warmth of mother's kiss,
Poetry is in the child's bliss,
Poetry is in the hug of a father,
Poetry is in the love of a dear,
Poetry is in the happiness of affection,
Poetry is in the pain of separation,
Poetry is in someone's loss,
Poetry is in missing someone very close.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is in the first rain,
Poetry is in the cultivation of first grain,
Poetry is in the first light of dawn,
Poetry is in the drops of dew o the grass of lawn,
Poetry is in the blowing of cool wind,
Poetry is in the beauty of green,
Poetry is in the twinkling star,
Poetry is in the aroma of a flower,
Poetry is in thunder and lightning,
Poetry is in the heat scorching.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poetry is something more sweeter than sweet,
Poetry is something more closer to heart beat,
Poetry is something more than the most beautiful creation,
Poetry is something more than the depth of an ocean,
Poetry is something more higher than the blue,
Poetry is something more true,
Poetry is something more enjoyable than wine,
Poetry is something more shiner than sunshine,
Poetry is something more pure than air,
Poetry is something which is present everywhere.
Poetry...Poetry...
Poet ry is not just rhyme,
Poetry is but the voice Divine,
Poetry is not just Poetry,
Poetry frames History,
After so many lines,
Poetry still remains undefined.
Poetry...Poetry...
poem by Akash Agrawal
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An act of poetry
Ruin is what we need –
Despair is what we feed
Upon in poetry
A shock resets the nerves –
Helps remould the curves
Of written art
Catharsis helps portray –
Acting out a play
On expurgation
Tears or hidden fears
Release the bottled years
To ink a page:
The pen be our salvation.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Love Me - Love My Poetry
I once wrote some poetry - the best,
the finest POETRY
My POETRY came with a capital
"P".
My POETRY was distinguished
POETRY, proper, complete line of
Verse POETRY - honorable,
prehistoric, geographical POETRY
Divine, instinctive, even religious
POETRY -
I sent it to the magazines
The very good magazines
The very best magazines -
They returned it to me every time!
I once wrote some inferior POETRY
Low in style, irregular in measure
POETRY
Undignified, trivial, absurd POETRY
inadequate, mischievous, comic
POETRY
Some stuff like this - A CRIME -
I sent it to the magazines
The very good magazines
The very best magazines
They kept it every time!
Now, I ask of you - my question is
fair and brief - I ask
Of you - your ear I pray and beg you
give -
Shall I write intuitive,
comprehensive, reasoning
POETRY
Specific, Godlike, Capitol
committed POETRY
The sort I think will live?
Or shall I write inferior, very bad
POETRY - the kind that soon is
Dead - and send it to the magazines,
the very good, the best magazines
THAT I MAY LIVE INSTEAD!!!
poem by Bonnie Alden Phillips
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Poetry Is All In One!
Passion for poetry is insatiable!
Poetry gives pleasure nothing can!
Poetry is many subjects under one roof!
Poetry never bores to write and read ever!
Poetry is a compression of many ideas in a nut shell!
Poetry displays power of pen to capture men ever!
Poetry captures as photo castles built in air!
Poetry is spontaneous over flow of ides!
Poetry flows free if extemporary!
Poetry is prolific words sure!
Poetry is a thing of joy!
Poetry is beauty!
Poetry is witty!
Poetry cheers!
poem by Ramesh T A
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On A Famed Poet
Forgive me if his greatness I cannot seem to note
His poems never rhyme but he is a famed poet
By literary experts considered to be knowledgeable and wise
And for his poems he has won many a prize.
Though poetry is not very popular today
The poet of the poetry lovers the experts do say
In University literary magazines students his verses read
And they all agree he's a fine poet indeed.
Of poets and poetry I must confess so little I know
My favourites old rhymers from ages ago
On the poetry I do not like most experts agree
That it is well written and quite good poetry.
Forgive me if the worth in his verse I can't see
His non rhyming poetry does nothing for me
Of reading blank verse I do quickly grow tired
My truth is by such stuff I do not feel inspired.
The experts on his poetry great interest show
And his stature as a poet only seems to grow
Of him great things are written and great things we hear
And good luck to him on his literary career.
poem by Francis Duggan
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This Poetry
This poetry is not poetry
This poetry is not poetry as poetry goes
But is as silent as a man in a rollo neck jumper
Almost reading yesterdays news
This poetry is not poetry
As far as poetry goes
It is neither verse
Or poesy prose
This is a debunking of 'The poetry'
Everyone knows
And so they are not amused
This poetry is not poetry
So why poetry?
If not
Prose?
It is as idle as a man picking his nose
Pondering a wonderful muse
Yet some, are not amused
Infact if this poetry is Not poetry
What right have I to use, the word poetry?
It is a lovely panacea for expressing and de stressing
The individual's points of view
And yet if not poetry
Who says Not poetry
And who is qualified to choose?
Give me a pocket full of roses
Or a misty morning cloud
Are you amused?
clammy wynette aka Yvette m smith
march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Gertrude Stein is interviewed on American poetry
and there was the knocking on the door
that we were expecting
and it was the man
that we were expecting
with the questions we were expecting
to which answers were expected
by those who expect answers
as if life were like that
which for writers it is not
yes, tea was drunk
and after tea the tape recorder set up
so that what I said
I would continue to say
somewhere else
even when I changed my mind
here and nowhere else
and he said Ms Stein
what do you think of American poetry
and we said well it's American
and it's poetry
that's as it should be
and really that's all there is to say
and the man looked disappointed
so we asked him did he read poetry
and he said poetry no I dont read poetry
but my editor does
so I said it's really about Americans
living their lives
that's what American poetry is really about
because Americans move around
and so their words move around and
words in English have lost their intensity
but American words are always on the move
and they are more intense
yes, Americans living among Americans
and talking to their neighbours
if it's not about that
it's not really American poetry at all is it
if it's not about that
then why bother writing poetry
and the man was asking about a rose
being a rose being a rose and we said
for a hundred years the rose
has not been red in poetry
but now for the first time in a hundred years
the rose is red again
and the man looked at his watch
and said thank you Ms Stein
and was switching off his tape recorder
and a month later that
was what we said
in a magazine much read
by Americans who mostly
are not poets no very few but we said it
we know that this is so
because we read it there
and we think that really
that was all there was to say
because that was all we think
is really important
about American Poetry
that the words move like Americans move
and that is exciting for a writer
and that is the important thing about
American Poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A whole new ball game.
The time had come for me to go and leave the world of work behind
I was not sure, did not know how I would occupy my mind
To fill the long hours of the day. I knew some things I’d like to try.
But work had left small time for play and now there s was no reason why.
My times my own an I am free to try my hand at something new
from pottery to poetry and that is what I mean to do.
It may seem strange but now I find there are too few hours in the day.
To do the things I have in mind. I look at life a different way.
Retirement wrought a change in me I do the thing I want to do
I have no one to please but me. Something you can look forward to.
When you too leave the world of work behind. You’ll be too busy to regret.
The years you spent as a wage slave you’ll be quite happy to forget.
19-Jul-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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