For the Poem Hunters, gathering in London....

our great city: magnet dusty
microcosm of worlds expansive
cultures meeting, lovers mating
in its hold of nerves ecstatic
tense with all its hopes and hatred

here in London, poets meet
hunters, posters, insight seekers
jokers, hubs and fair spokes-
persons for themselves and for all other
poets scratching for belief

light and blessings! in your smokeless
pubs turned into poetry corners
paths to gather forged and trod
by scriveners who came of old
to town to be immoderate and bold.

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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

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The Town Poets

They have the ticket draw for the football club
But never a poets hour at the local pub
'Twould seem that cricket and football are the in thing
And horse racing at the back end of the Spring
But of course the Town poets have their own poetry night
On saturday evenings at the bowling club rooms their poems they recite
The local lovers of poetry their night out enjoy
To watch local favourite poets such as Rina, Kate and Roy
Reciting their poetry and strutting their stuff
It cannot be said of them not quite good enough
Quite talented poets the tops of the Town
Young poets in their thirties who dream of renown
And recite their poems in the rooms of the bowling club
Whilst it's a different scene at the Town's biggest pub.

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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.

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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?

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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.

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We As Poets

We as poets must command a sacred accent over a language of our choice,
We as poets must gift the minds of a failing generation,
We as poets must demand a clear explanation and a fair occupation,
We as poets must dissolve into particles and dust if we have not known enough,
We as poets must destroy the living standards of low quality,
We are to be the poetry of utmost perception and suffering.

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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.

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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.

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0026 To live in poetry

So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry

as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess

roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue

living in poetry

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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.

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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.

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In The City Of Poets,12/26/09

in the city
of poets
all men
are equals
and stride about
congratulating
one another
on their genius.

in the city
of poets
the statistics
of attentive readers
exceed
all expectations
and the bookstores
burst
like fat silos
with their harvest
of rhyme.

in the city
of poets
passports
to immortality
are issued
with abandon,
frontiers
evaporate,
and customs gates
are thrown open
by exuberant
and trusting
guards.

The city of poets
is a classless
society
where no one
dares admit
the existence
of aristocrats
or kings
and everyone
shamelessly
lays claim
to successful
expression.

In the city of poets
bad verse
drives out good
or rather
drowns it
in a sea
of mediocrity,
a conspiracy
of equality,
a brotherhood
of banality,
and every man
is his own
best
bard.

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Of Your Knowledge On Poetry

Of your knowledge on poetry you wish me to know
Your three favourites poets Eliot, Whitman and Poe
Though great they may be I regret for to say
That on reading them you won't be laughing all day
It is good of you to honour their renown
But this evening I must say I feel a bit down
And though the poetry of Eliot, Whitman and Poe I even read as a boy
Their meaningful words never filled me with joy
If you wish to talk of poetry talk of something that's happy and light
Like the poems of Pam Ayres they are breezy and bright
Though she is one who is not seen as a poetic great
In her poetry the joy of laughter she create
Why talk to me of serious poets and their poetry today
When the tears from my eyes are not that far away
This evening I do need a good laugh or two
Something I cannot have whilst I'm talking to you.

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Poets and Poetry

Poets love writing poetry Poetry releases there feelings there are all kinds of poetry, but poetry is in all life nothing can change that. Poets and Poetry is always around us this poetry is about poetry so you decide if you want poetry in your life.

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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.

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There Are Poets Whose Greatness

THERE ARE POETS WHOSE GREATNESS

There are poets whose Greatness
Makes my poetry seem
As if it is not Poetry at all.

What am I to do
If I am not really one
Of the great ones?
But one who loves far more
the work of others
Than his own?

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A poor pen

Pen is

Not great...

On the paper...

poet write at

Moon+ sky...

Stars...

Earth and sea...

All are in poets

Hand only

At poets hand...

Poets is think...

Poets dream...

Thats all

pen is very poor

Noock out...

undrestad to try...

Try too under stand....

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Poet 2 Poet

We all have different writing styles, and we
May not all have grace and poise.
But when we do write, it’s all to make some noise.

We want to be recognized by the co-poets
All fair and true.
For writing our poetry is what we all like to do.

So I welcome all my co-poets who take this beautiful ride
And all their dreams and visions, they do find.

We do not only write what comes into our minds
But we write from the heart
And this is where poetry gets its start.

So continue to write all that you see and feel
Because these are human emotions.
That from us, no one can steal.

WELCOME ABOARD THIS TRAIN OF POETRY.

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The Poet As A Flatterer

he loves bukowski and e.e. cummings too,
and he colors his world with their shades and hues
and the souls of other poets come to him
love us too
we are too lonely in here
our poems have turned dusty
read us too

and out of respect for those who are dead and lonely
he takes them all inside his room
lights his lamp and burns his eyebrows
(literally dissecting each flesh and vein of those
poets departed)

he writes at the break of his day
i love you all and honor you

but sorry, i have my own poems too
and like yours... forgive me...
they're dusty too and need my reading company.

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(V – 2010) The Poet’s Nature

Reflecting Nature’s various hues
Poets write colourfully.

Echoing Nature’s innate songs
Poets write musically.

Learning from Nature’s righteous laws
Poets write more sensibly.

Drawing from Nature’s spotless love
Poets write more humanely.

Living with Nature’s poetic life
Poets write living poetry.

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