To Pablo Neruda
Again & again
I have read your books
without ever wishing to know you.
I suck the alphabet of blood.
I chew the iron filings of your words.
I kiss your images like moist mouths
while the black seeds of your syllables
fly, fly, fly
into my lungs.
Untranslated, untranslatable,
you are rooted inside me-
not you-but the you
of your poems:
the man of his word,
the lover who digs into the alien soil
of one North American woman
& plants a baby-
love-child of Whitman
crossed with the Spanish language,
embryo, sapling, half-breed
of my tongue.
I saw you once-
your flesh-
at Columbia.
My alma mater
& you the visiting soul.
Buddha-like
you sat before a Buddha;
& the audience
craned its neck
to take you in.
Freak show-
visiting poet.
You sat clothed
in your thick
imperious flesh.
I wanted to comfort you
& not to stare.
Our words knew each other.
That was enough.
Now you are dead
of fascism & cancer-
your books scattered,
the oil cruet on the floor.
The sea surges through your house
at Isla Negra,
& the jackboots
walk on water.
Poet of cats & grapefruits,
of elephant saints;
poet of broken dishes
& Machu Picchu;
poet of panthers
& pantheresses;
poet of lemons,
poet of lemony light.
The flies swarm
thicker than print on a page,
& poetry blackens
like overripe bananas.
The fascists you hated,
the communists you loved,
obscure the light, the lemons
with their buzzing.
We were together
on the side of light.
We walked together
though we never met.
The eyes are not political,
nor the tastebuds,
& the flesh tastes salty always
like the sea;
& the sea
turns back the flies.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Morning Sunshine
This poet is so seductive
This poet is now strange to me
This poet is so bold
This little girl doesn't want to see
The little girl has known this poet
ever since
But the little girl is already
tired of this poet
She just wants to play.
Not any passing minute
She hasn't have
any word of
allegory
metonymy and
simile
Take me away from this poet yet
the little girl must empty first
the words of this poet
Before she is free to play
in the morning sunshine
and go away from this busy poet
Do you think I'm too young to see?
Do you agree?
This poet won't let me
play out in the middle of the rain
This poet won't let me
see the afternoon sway
This poet won't let me
see the morning gay
Let me see the Morning Sunshine
Let me see!
But this poet
Won't let me
I'll just watch t.v
and sing
her poetry
poem by Mary Jesusa Villegas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poet Is A Poet/Wherever He Goes
A POET IS A POET/ WHEREVER HE GOES
A poet is a poet
Wherever he goes
He can stop and sit on a bench anywhere
And write a poem
The poems come from without often
But what is within is the poetry-
Like a dream like a fire like a small light
That never goes out
A poet sits anywhere and writes his dream-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Recapture That Innocence Of Loved Missed
To recapture that innocence of loved missed,
May be easier done by a poet doing it.
But when a poet isn't sitting to compose words of love...
The wish for it may be stronger than words can express.
Since words may touch emotions.
But to caress one's flesh...
In an anticipated mutual acceptance,
Is what the poet envisions as best.
For those who are poets,
In a loneliness desired to forget.
Or deny to mask in alibis.
And a poet can decide,
Whether to expose this or hide!
'So what have you chosen to do? '
Lie.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poet Loses His Power For Poetry
A POET LOSES HIS POWER FOR POETRY
A poet loses his power for poetry
He can put down words
But they no longer have poetry in them
Something of the feeling of what real poetry is
is gone.
He strives
He writes again and again
He puts words down in the forms and in the shapes his poems usually take
But he has no poetry in him
He has lost what he is
And all he can do
is strive again and again
Word after word
Silence after silence
To hear within himself again
A voice he does not have.
The poet is writing poetry
And it is not poetry
The poet is dead
And he is pretending to be alive
Is this a poem?
Is he a poet
Is he dead?
Is he alive?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poet
The poet can only utter the word fine
The poet has to bear the sorrow and the sin.
The poet can only say I am happy
The poet can only say I feel no aches no pain
The poet can only say I am not in loss
The poet can only say I am in the side of only gain.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Living In The Dark Vs.. Living In The Light
The poet gets depression when he is living in the dark
Also it is depression that it is hard for the poet to control in his life
Basements are ussualy dark and reminds me of a subway station
But sometimes it gets too hot and the poet has to open all the windows
Of the house so the house can cool of
The dark doesn't feel safe for the poet
But the light feels safe for the poet
When the poet lives in the light he is more energetic
And he can do a better work when he works on his poetry
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Not A Poet 2
When I feel I am really a poet
I see my flesh is poetry
My pleasure is poetry
My pains are poetry
My feelings are poetry.
Poetry protects me
Poetry teaches me
How to fight back and win.
Poetry is my freedom
Poetry is my independence
Poetry is my flag
And an anthem
Poetry is my prophet
And a messanger.
But I am not a poet
Do not read me
Burn me into ashes
Let there be a flower
From the ashes.
poem by Devil Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poet And Woman
Woman, you are incomplete without poet,
Poet, you are also imperfect without woman.
The soil is incomple without the root of trees,
The sky is incomple without the clouds,
stars or the shining Moon,
The river is dead without the dancing of waves,
And, the poet's heart is a desert without a woman's love.
The forest is incomplete without the wild animals,
The sun is lost in darkness without its light,
The trees are but a row of emptiness-
without the chirping of the birds,
And, a woman is but half without a poet's imagination.
poem by Nazmul Haque
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Being A Poet
being a poet
is not an ambition
it is ironic
that i do poetry and
yet i do not want
to be called a poet
nor be identified with
any movement in poetry
nor take the challenge and opportunity
of being crowned by laurel leaves
and be dragged on the stage of
an island of light focusing my head and body
and they shall all clap and say
this is the poet, this is our poet
not in the figment of my imagination
not an ambition not a profession not a career in the field of literature
to be a poet on a certain degree
you see, i live in a crowded universe
i am a fish in the sea of people
and i, never imagine once in my whole life
that i will be swimming so meaninglessly in the corridors
of this vast ocean of men and mice and snakes
and goats and pigs and eagles
poetry is what i do but i am not a poet
this poet, that poet
their poet
the reason is here inside my heart
this is my place &
this is my only chance to be alone
to be myself to be human again for out there
i, we, you have become pillars
and dams.and walls and continental shelves
it is only here in this spot
that i become my island
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poet
a poet knows nothing best than a seer, nay neither
touches like a magician nor prays like a monk, yet!
feel the tremendous heart that breathes and sees the
oozing shadow of the light, a poet lives
Oh! what wonder! each word exists where
every poet has come to paste, as the world
turns its page every color the pen refreshes
as the poet begins to tell, every feeling makes it
to fulfill, though in every edge there is always some
sad stories that everybody could feel and relate
a poet always wins in every ink of a pen, there is
always pain, turning others' gain, the end
holds on to reign, and the heart of the immortal fight
has just begun, transcend beyond it rainbow's
plain, wherein every poetry the dying soul comes
to raise the wonderful surprises of life
as the fulfillment has gone, and every one's dream
has achieved and the poet now wishes to repose in the
lamp light grave the pen it lays, leaving the world to
be freed watching my hand to flee
wish me luck; the time has to come, where my day is
counted in the pen everyone is perfected and my
moment is for you to remember that in very write our
soul leads us to be upright and every way is alright,
and now haggle me to know that I am a poet at the
end of my life
a poet in a shining armor of light.........
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poet and Chivalry
Poet, an industry not of mankind
An era that poet’s in awe to partake a rite
Poetry belongs to the ancient tribe
An era that poet’s dissolute and roaming
Poetry ascribes to nature and wildness
An era that poet a jester praised in comic to entertain the king
Poetry is the plaything of an empire
The era that poet yields to the media, pursuing fame and fortune
Poetry is a consuming product
Poet holds in awe since the heaven and earth are vast
Poet’s degenerated because of his nature
Poet’s comical because ironical the self derision
Poet capitulates because of human’s weakness
Although poet hasn’t always been an industry of mankind
Its luster would shine upon the darkness that poet ever survived
Lighting a light in darkness of history and showing its courage
Lighting a light in darkness of future and proving its foresight
Compromised the life
But allows not to compromise of poetry
The spirit and vitality of a chivalry is the case
Poet, still not an industry of mankind
Today
The chivalry has sealed his sword and pen
The page of poetry gradually stained and spotted yellow
The sharp sword conceals a smoked silver flash
poem by DePen Chang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poet Writes Of Poems And Poets And Poetry
THE POET WRITES OF POEMS AND POETS AND POETRY
The poet writes of poems and poets and poetry,
And the world goes by
And nothing is done.
And the sky- the sky.
Is it still above?
And Love and Kindness
Are they still deep in us,
Words or not?
Without Poetry the world does not exist for the poet-
But for others,
Dreams have other names,
And Music plays on,
And singing and laughter
Go on as the Beauty of Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Unto The Other
What can a poet do for you?
Open up your heart
to let the sunshine through.
What can a poet say to you?
Words so powerful
to put your past in review.
What can a poet give to you?
A moment of prayer
to make you feel brand new.
What can a poet make alive in you?
A picture of your soul
as it comes into view.
What can you give the poet you read?
The chance to reach you
with something you need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!