Sonnet. On Mrs. Kemble's Readings From Shakespeare
O precious evenings! all too swiftly sped!
Leaving us heirs to amplest heritages
Of all the best thoughts of the greatest sages,
And giving tongues unto the silent dead!
How our hearts glowed and trembled as she read,
Interpreting by tones the wondrous pages
Of the great poet who foreruns the ages,
Anticipating all that shall be said!
O happy Reader! having for thy text
The magic book, whose Sibylline leaves have caught
The rarest essence of all human thought!
O happy Poet! by no critic vext!
How must thy listening spirit now rejoice
To be interpreted by such a voice!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Related quotes
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
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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
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The Poet And The Reader
the poet writes his lines
they are all dead
unless the reader comes
and resurrects them
then the poem becomes alive
and begins to read upon itself
the meaning of its existence
there is a bond between the poet
and the reader
a familiarity comes into play
one says> this is what it is
the other says> i know.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ode To My Father
Your voice
Like bell tones
Rung unforgotten
Melodies in my ears.
Your life:
A text book for the ages.
On this side
Of eternity
Without a complaint,
You lived
Outside the pages.
When you are called
This heart
Will pound with praises.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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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
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Goodbye Poet! ! ! !
Very sad when a Poet close your book
leave his pen and left us
So we say: There goes, Aphrodite, Apollo, Hades
find your ethereal Muse and make peaces with God
Because
The Poet goes different
He goes taking all of us with him
He goes but leaving your scrolls, hymns
His Ilíadas, Odisseias
For ever and Never
Because
The Poet let us different
He dare to be absent without a motive
confront dead and write the more beautiful Poem
Poet's heart now beats alone!
So go Poet
Go, because you are different
poem by Mirna Morgan
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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
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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
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To God Give The Glory (Monchielle)
To God give the glory
Is a treasure to read
Christina R. Jussaume
Is great poet indeed
Her poems vanish gloom
To God give the glory
Her love for Christ is pure
It reflects thru poems
Her words are wise and kind
Uplifts the soul is true
To God give the glory
I'm glad I got a copy
You'll enjoy what you see
She writes witty and nice
Happy her book I read
To God give the glory
Poet tells some funny jokes
She writes of God and life
Of Christ and all she knows
Poet shares loves and strife
November 25,2009
Author's note:
'To God Give The Glory' is a wonderful
and very uplifting poetry book written by
the great poetess Christina R. Jussaume
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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0027 In Honour of Honour and WHAuden
You asked me which of Auden’s poems
were my favourite, and I sighed
for memory’s fade, then walked to the dusty shelf
where next to those volumes of Eliot
with their brown-paper covers for those
precious wartime books allowed
a ration of Canadian paper for
fighting men to read in those
few moments of leisure for the open heart and
the vision of a peacetime world, was
‘Collected Shorter Poems 1930-1944 W.H.Auden’
which fell open at page 54,
‘In Memory of W.B.Yeats (d.January 1939) ’
‘Earth, receive an honoured guest…’;
those pages yellowed more than
the others around them as if
read often late at night
under what was still gaslight
with respectful but unwashed hands
after cocoa and biscuits with a scrape of butter
and it all came back: 1953, that was the year
when there was only one poet Yeats..
and poetry and music were the same;
I turned the pages – they fell open once again,
‘Time will say nothing but I told you so’…
So many poems there, unread, or unremembered,
how could it be that I abandoned Auden,
not hearing his music, while
other interests began to pull?
Then I sat silent at the thought
that a great poet of great mind, great heart,
was writing, writing, most of my lifetime
while I was wrapt in other things;
sat silent, honouring
what is to be honoured
as best we can;
what is to be honoured.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Today... 'Brother of His disciples
Jesus' brothers and sisters and mothers are we
and born by God's Spirit into His family
through obedience and doing the will of God.
Each of us is redeemed by the blood of the Lord.
Part of His glorious body on earth are we
and we'll be One in Him throughout eternity.
This heavenly family is more like the Lord
as we reach out to others with the love of God
Against the very gates of hell the church endures
as the ages pass by and Christ's body matures.
A great multitude of saints are gathered above
all brought together by the power of His love.
Each precious member has been from sin set free
heirs of God and joint heirs with Jesus Christ are we.
All destined to be with Him in Heaven above
saved and redeemed by the power of His great love
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
A Poet Of Our Time
He doesn't like non rhyming poetry ignore what he has to say
About your fashionable writing you are the poet of the day
Your thoughts on paper are as deep as the ocean you are a wise one indeed
You are an emerging writer as a poet you will succeed
Everyone has their opinions no two exactly the same
He doesn't like modern poetry but he has not sullied your name
It only means you are a good writer when others your works criticize
You are a poet of the future you've won a literary prize
At poetry nights you read your verses and always for you there's an encore
You feel so proud and so happy when the audience they beg you for more
People love you for your poetry see you as a poetic great
But not everyone as you know your success will celebrate
He is a man of the fifties he only likes poems that rhyme
So many do love your poetry you are a poet of our time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Poet Of Our
He doesn't like non rhyming poetry ignore what he has to say
About your fashionable writing you are the poet of the day
Your thoughts on paper are as deep as the ocean you are a wise one indeed
You are an emerging writer as a poet you will succeed
Everyone has their opinions no two exactly the same
He doesn't like modern poetry but he has not sullied your name
It only means you are a good writer when others your works criticize
You are a poet of the future you've won a literary prize
At poetry nights you read your verses and always for you there's an encore
You feel so proud and so happy when the audience they beg you for more
People love you for your poetry see you as a poetic great
But not everyone as you know your success will celebrate
He is a man of the fifties he only likes poems that rhyme
So many do love your poetry you are a poet of our time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Happy Thoughts, Happy Thoughts, Think Happy Thoughts
I have to keep reminding myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.)
You wanted me to promise to never say it again
Those three words
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Which is laughably easy to do right now because
We are so far out of touch I couldn’t reach you if I tried
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
So I plod through grey days and inky dark nights
Heavy laden with regret
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Tomorrow I will remind myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
12-25-07
djlw
poem by Shannon Wright
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Poet Vavroovahana Patra
Poet is a saint;
Depicts the truth of Earth with merriment.
Encourages the society to proceed on right path;
He is happy seeing innocent people’s mirth.
Poet is a hermit;
Searches for Eternal Delight.
Passes time with tragedy and comedy;
Advises the society for honesty boldly.
Poet depicts good and evil deeds of society;
Advises the people to follow the path of punctuality.
Advises politicians to be away corruption;
Through poems he frees human life’s tension.
Poet’s verses dazzle in the pages of book beautifully;
Delights the people of world gaily.
Advises on socialism;
Respects the people of all isms.
Poet is pleased seeing the smiling faces of the poor people In society;
Inspires them to follow the path of prosperity.
Prays God day and night.
Is a real honest devotee.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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0176 Letter to a Well-known Contemporary Poet
I wanted to write to you about your poems,
that is, about something I couldn't quite put my finger on
so I didn't write in case it sounded inconsequential
and it's silly to write to a poet who handles words so expertly,
inconsequentially..
Inconsequential. That's it. I appreciate that you want to stress
life's inconsequentiality - this happens, that happens, but
we're none the wiser - that's a modern concern, I appreciate,
no neat wrapping life up with a brisk end-rhyme...
but how can I put this tactfully, inconsequentiality
or is it tangentiality
can seem to the reader eager to extract meaning
that is, the poet's meaning, as near as can be...
inconsequentiality can seem...obscure...
for this very reason, since it's difficult
to share the same inconsequentiality
if you see what I mean
and this unintentional obscurity
can sometimes seem
of course I know you wouldn't
but let's say to an uninformed superficial reader -
like pretension?
I hope you don't mind my mentioning this
it's only because I do admire your writing so much
and I know that the prizes and awards you've won
proves that no-one could possibly accuse you of pretension
it's just that I thought I should say how it seems
to a very ordinary reader. I hope you will read this
in the spirit it's meant. And I do look forward
very much to reading your next book
now the library stocks them.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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0257 When the Heart Melts
sometimes,
some wonder times,
I read a poem here and
instantly want, because
of the love of poetry
or goodness, or truth, or beauty, or
whatever, to
live the life
of the poet who
wrote it
though
on reflection
that might not work out
or, I might not know
I'd exchanged lives!
but
at the moment I thought it
the thought was pure because
thanks to poetry
and the very human poet
our hearts were indeed
as one
(for Oscar Mireles)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I read another poet I could not understand
I READ ANOTHER POET I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND
I read another poet I could not understand
The metaphors racing one after the other
The eternal thoughts taking on a new particular dress
Words and more words
Lines and more lines
Rushing toward meaning and beauty.
And in it all my simple not understanding,
My waiting to hear words that would return to me-
My understanding
That only by my own effort
By my reading again and again
By my willing to believe
Could I make another poet real.
But do I want another poet to be real
When I am a question,
And when there are already others real for me also?
Oh selfish little man oh poor poor reader-
Write your poem alone again
As if no one but you will ever be able to write
The poems which are real.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Precious Pages
This faint page of letters shines after a light is entering its layers,
For the thin pages of this book chime in silent manner when folded.
Then the knowledge of the authorities all-mentioned climbs to completion,
Beautiful thoughts and remedies are transferred to our minds and eyes.
Our eyes are sustaining their shape as we read and tell of the glamour
Dissolved and then absorbed by us, by the ultimate being who is the reader.
The complete praise to be given is silent and from the heart,
Hearts cling to the words that can not be matched or sustained by most authors.
poem by Naveed Akram
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As Happy, Happy, Happy As Can Be
Bricklayer’s like to keep their spirit levels high
Joiner’s and Chippie’s will raise the rafters
They do the things that brings them joy
Things that give them the laughter’s
Their as happy, happy, happy as can be
Nurse’s keep their humour tender
Clown’s like to act the fool
Heating engineer’s like it hot
Ice cream makers keep it cool
Their all happy, happy, happy as can be
I like to be in your arms
Saying I love you’ listening to you saying I love you too
I like to see your smiling eyes
In which my smiling eyes look into
Then I am as happy, happy, happy as can be
You make me so happy, happy, happy as can be
Happiness is me as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love and as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love with you happy forever in love
As happy, happy, happy as can be
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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