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Magic Verses

what does a poet gain
but the soothing nerves
as one traverses the mental
landscape of those who have
eschewed our words, love them
so much they have spun a web of nirvana
where both readers and poets can meet
to see and feel the full splendour of verses

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The poet's page

Like a band of beggars
Revealing to each other
Where to find the bread
Is the poets page
An open line
Where poets reveal what's
Inside their heads
A platform of
Artistic exchange
Where an accompany of poets
Express what should be said,
As the
Words seems to take on life
For they are poet read
Poets can feel one anothers pain
As well as relates to each
others shame
Emphasizing on a topic is
A poet's personal lane
Poets dvides the spoil
As they expand, due to
sharing their gain
This is partly my analogy
Of a poet's fame

poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Unaltered pages

so many want
to be poets

they let words
guide them
(take the lead)

writing in
a high fashion

for the glamour
i suppose

for me
i let my
humble heart and soul
guide me
to my poem

the first words
human uttered
were born there

and still are

for poets
who string verses
that lift readers
to the unaltered
realm (pages) of their life

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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Turn a great poet

You can turn a great poet
Only you should have an art of keeping others quiet
Keep group of four or five to support
Rest other poets may stand to deport

It happens in all the organizations
It becomes known only after some revelations
But exactly what cause we serve by doing so?
We make indecent entry for other poets to go

There is no yard stick for readers to prefer
Some of the ideas are pre set and is likely to differ
Yet some kind of favor reflects in trend
This is enough reason for good poet to buckle or bend

In new set up, he may find hardly any one to support
Where as few others poets may kill his chance to anchor at port
None may appreciate his effort to strengthen poetry base
Lot many of them may disappear without facing tough chase

I have hardly any reason to resent
But of course spirit of good poetry is absent
You go after established poets with so much to praise
And not a single word for simple poet to boost or raise

Poets are born and not made
As earth gives up nice crops when deeply spade
It is water and natural manure that cultivates fine
Green corps may stand in defiance to define

Do the words create all magic in verses?
Yes if that is felt within one honestly pursues
Poetry may be felt all along even if ignored
As sea waves rush unstoppable toward shore

Bank may feel greatly elated at striking noise
The sound is heard beautifully with sweet voice
As if music is created with each passing wave
Ups and down of journey surely represent the waves

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Above the Poets Station

You’re a poet, as they say
All you write is poetically full of art
Wince when you read your stuff
As from literacy you stand apart

Such great depiction, fiction
wordplay and poet structures
Diction, contradiction, dead
good words and writing such as
Ballads, salads and other kinds
of verses with great meaning
Acrostic, Agnostic and all other
words that see you preening
Rhyming, timing and all the stuff
that makes you look artistic
Hard to read and nothing
really makes your stuff simplistic
Excreta, meter, rhyming
All about your brother Peter
Verses with great timing
all with just a single rhyme repeater
Arty words but never farty
Dressed up in a dictionary ‘bonnet’
Time for wordsmith party
Can you find a rhyme for this – yes Sonnet!
Who was it that wandered
all around as lonely as a cloud?
Are clouds lonely? Verily it’s pondered
Do they seek your friendship in a crowd?
I.Q, Haiku, do your readers even like you?
Tanka w****er, you’re so on the ball
So pretentious’ does that saying ever strike you
Jack of all trades master of sod all

You’re a poet, as they say
and all you say is poetically full ofshit
Read up or down, I’m pretty sure
you’ll never find much sense in it

Though some was meant!

poem by Stephen Stirk
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~ Checkmate Again ~

Pondering
Readers commentate
Of late
Perspiring to be:
Poet!

Working on words
Stand on mark to
Get set
And gooooooo…
Lo!
Words are
I find
Grotesque foe! !

Dear readers
Again I regret
Unless you surrogate
Can’t be a Poet

poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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Poem about Poetry - Poetry sites

if you wish to
have an afternoon
of fun, what about
reading throgh
the amateur poem
writing sites

the work here reeks
of things raw -
some even confessed
they wrote their work
while cutting their wrists

of things great -
some poets actually
are already carrying stars
- but think they need
to be on the ground
- stay in touch with
their best readers

of things romantic
- teenage lovers
who day in and day out
shower sweet love verses
like they would roses on
their new founded flame

of things sleazy -
some verses actually
came right off the hands
that had a minute ago
been exploring the powerkeg
of the sensous world

they should be censored
but then these considerate perverts
even took the trouble to write the
'bewarned' line

and of course
the greatest fun
are the young poets
who afford a glimpse
of their little world
the folksy rhythm
and heavenly rhyme

the greatest laugh
would be when
we stumble upon
the inexperienced
ones who think poetry
is throwing words at you,
all the words that not many
of us could actually pronounce
so that the whole piece would
sound erudite... only if you
could go beyond those words

the whole poem makes you feel
like you walk into a house
to see the bed upside down
in the kitchen, the cooking pot
on the edge of the bedroom table
the fridge at the attic
the washing machine on a flower bed
and the toilet right in the middle
of the living room

then there are those
who are queens of words
their verses run like pistils,
filamens, petals, colours
of orchids..classic, regal,
exquisitei

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Where the flute lets out its song

a real poet means
even the mistakes
between the verses
will not douse the
eagerness to read you

even when you do not
write out full sentences
and place dashes, moon
and stars between your words

because between the lines
are jewels to dazzle the readers' mind
notches and keyholes the
smart flute lets out its song

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Destiny at times is changed by love

The way that life goes,
destiny at times
is changed by love
sometimes by lust
and at times
bring the change on by itself.

A poetess read the poems
of a poet at university
and his poems were alive
with something great
in the words,

while the editor saw her verses
in a negative way
and she was set
to meet him, to talk to him
at a party
which he attended with another girl.

Some call it love, others a thrill
but there she got him
under her spell
and they kissed
while they danced
in a sudden romance,
she left a mark on his neck
and he retained a ring from her ear.

Some called both lucky, happy
and great poets they were
but destiny dealt the cards,
brought separation by mental illness
and the world held him responsible
for not staying true

and in his poems
I see something of his soul
and wonder if in the same
circumstance set,
I wouldn’t have acted
just as he did?

poem by Gert Strydom
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To the spirits of Abn 'Arabi, poet, and Averroes, philosopher

The philosopher asked the poet,

Does what the poets and the mystics
find in their hearts, agree
with what the philosophers have discovered
or reasoned to be true?

The poet answered

Yes, and No

and between the two
is a place, a space, where
the mouth is silent,
the pen hovers poised above the paper,
the eyes sparkle,
the heart leaps and rejoices,
and the mind soars on journeys
beyond anything that was known before
and lives experiences never before experienced;
finds words behind words
that were never spoken before,
sounds behind sounds
never heard before,
a knowledge beyond love,
a love beyond knowledge..

a place where poets and philosophers
meet together in a world of wonder.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Who Is Now Reading This?

count yourself blessed
if you are reading this?
you are the rare few
who actually read others' poetry
nobody is serious about other people's life anyway
poetry reading is being noosy
an orphan in an alleyway
tries to look for a
home sweet home
count yourself doubled blessed
if you fully understand any poem
for poets write for themselves
if a poet says he writes for others
he is probably a liar
after money probably
count yourself blessed for having learnt this
for among the millions of poets
there are poets in lost alleys
trying to find a piece of themselves
the lane that runs to treasures of heart and mind
verses springing from the sanctity of the soul
many slip on the make belief lane
throwing words, phrases helter skelter
a child that tries to plant fiction in non fiction
offering honorable readers
a half baked cake nobody would take
the heaven sounds out the genius though
each of his word gets you revved up
each of the words offers a
a spectacle into real sights, sounds, tastes
and smells
the honorable readers know the fakes
from the real - just so instinctively
real words never lie
the diamond detector never fails

inspired by

Who Is Now Reading This?
May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past
life,
Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me,
Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with
derision,
Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.
As if I were not puzzled at myself!
Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O self-
convicted!)
Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long time,
and never avow it ;)
Or as if I did not see, perfectly well, interior in myself, the stuff
of wrong-doing,
Or as if it could cease transpiring from me until it must cease.10
Walt Whitman

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Hunting or Fishing?

Hunting or fishing – which is better?
That is what I am thinking about!
In business many hunt for customers;
Some men prefer casting net to catch fish!
Even for poets the position is the same
In poetry websites to catch readers!
Some lay wise traps to catch readers!
I use fishing rod with a needle and bait
To catch readers who can understand!

Whether the rank is high or low it is
Immaterial but the true comment is!
Hunting readers to comment and rank
Or fishing readers to comment and rank
Are not really going to enhance one’s status;
For, voluntary comments are indeed valuable!
Poets are jealous to appreciate others’ merit
But some poets raise the status of others!
So, letters to such poets increase sans end!
This is the status of poetry websites now!
So, it is left to you to hunt or fish or lay trap
As you wish to catch readers for rank, etc.!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Sonnet: Poetry

A poem's words are particles in flight
Dispersed as waves across my mental space
Interpreted by individual rite
I can but guess at both their pace and place.
To pin them down may sacrifice the drift
To let them fly may foil their depth of spike
Their fluid form provides a soothing gift
I mould them to my own capricious like.
But oft' I feel my path has run askew
As misalign is add to misalign
From idiosyncratic poet's view
Decision then to push on or resign.
But if I'm held in maze by poet's art
By doggedness I swear I'll reach it's heart.

poem by Diane Hine
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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
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I am not a poet

They say I am not a poet,
I, too, think so,
I am not a poet,
For I dare not turn the truth,
Into falsehood,
Or vise-versa,
I refrain myself from decorating
my verses with words and phrases,
To create sensation.
I call spade a spade,
In the simplest term
I may not be a poet,
But am aware of,
The mysteries of love,
I may not be a poet, But know how to detect,
Imitations in emotions.
I am aware of,
The cavity the society bears,
The thriving double standards,
The artificial claims of love,
I know I am not a poet,
I prefer to remain a simple person, Without being obsequious,
I can accomplish my task,
I just say what I feel,
So what if they do not send
Their inspiring comments,
So what if they take my request for flattery,
I would go on expressing my feelings,
Whether they like it or not
For I am not a poet at all.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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The Poet Who Has No Readers

THE POET WHO HAS NO READERS

The poet who has no readers
Needs the writing of the poetry
Loves the writing of the poetry
More than any recognition or praise
He may receive for it-

The poet who has no readers
Writes nonetheless,
For he needs and loves to write
Though he not be read or listened to at all.

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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Poem

Pen poems enthusiastically;
Write the Eternal Truth gaily.
Poem is the internal mental feelings of Poet;
Penning verses derive delight.

Poem tranquilises the wearied brain, provides peace;
Pen a good poem with Divine Bliss.
Through poems advise the society;
People of all religions would live with gaiety.

Poem is heart’s Ganga flows peacefully;
Poets derive peace delightfully.
Poem takes people on right path;
It is ‘ Gyana Ganda’ a brook of mirth.

Poet tries to rectify society’s monsterous activities;
Through truth, peace, non-violence provides delight.
Through delightful verses attracts the society;
In God’s lap lives with gaiety.

Poet depicts good and evil deeds of society;
Desires a peaceful society with gaiety.
Is a reformer of society;
Penetrates rays of gaiety.

poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Rivers of a Poet

The Rivers of the Poet

The verses of the poet
vary from the rivers
though they also flow
while circulating inside
until materializing
in words and verses
that others can see.

The poet’s soul communions
with the exterior world
and flows like the rivers
with each inspiration.

The rivers of the poet
do dry inside of him
as he writes,
but it is forever
that they flow in written form
upon the sheets of paper.

That is how
the rivers of the poet
leave and manage to stay
until another river
appears and flows
with another inspiration.

poem by Juan Antonio Rodriguez
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Farewell To The Poets And Poetesses Of Nature

Farewell to the poets and poetesses of Nature
Their beautiful rhymes are a gift of the heart
In literature they will always be remembered
For their promotion of Nature in which they played a huge part.

In their verses they captured some of the beauty of the Natural World
And their legacy in words is still with us today
In their poems one can visualize the wild birds singing
And in the warm Summer breeze get the sweet scent of hay.

Not all of them World famed or publicly acclaimed
Though a literary gem or two they created with us does remain
They played their own part in the promotion of Nature
And their likes perhaps we may not see again.

I love those old wordsmiths and their musical verses
They sung of the beauty around them they see
They had music in them their words so well written
With Nature they lived in complete harmony.

Farewell to the poets and poetesses of Nature
Their beautiful words do not have in them a use by date
To them we feel grateful for promoting Nature
And we thank them for the beauty that they did create.

poem by Francis Duggan
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