Not Only Violins and Roses
A poet is an artist who disposes
upon an un tau[gh]t canvas wor[l]ds which set
against each other suddenly forget
accepted meanings. Magic superposes
facettes prismatic - music it proposes
which, surfeiting, fresh appetites will whet.
Like Seurat’s coloured points, together met,
the poet pillows words in many poses
in painting interactions, - what he shows is
the all is one, the one is all, and yet
leaves scope for further progress, as a debt
he owes the Past, bequeaths the future, closes
no doors but leaves posterity to find
with open mind the key to light man’s heart.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Word World Images
Poetic artist intuitively disposes
word world images transcending accepted meanings.
Magic superposes facettes prismatic, proposes music
surfeit. Seurat’s points paint interactions -
shows all is one, one all - key cues man’s heart.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Silence, Some Words
Today somewhere a mirror broke
And a music of end splashed in the pages of time,
Someone lost his meanings in the broken mirror..
And an unending silence flowed
Many things happen silently, , ,
How the silent weeping of the lost meaning wander in the depth of the night, , ,
I unveil the sea of darkness...i find only silence
And the music of the end keeps on splashing around
Life is all about some silence and some words…
Far away a poet was looking for words, .
And a poem was seeking for its understanding, ,
for the heart where words dwell with meanings, ,
As long as they both were away everything was all right...
And when they met, , ,
the poet lamented on the end of words of the poem, , ,
and the poem on the unending silence of the poet, , , , ,
poems are not about understanding....
poet is not about words, , , ,
Meaning of Death
when a poet writes of death
don't take it literally
death has many meanings
which differ significantly
to a poet death might mean
death of a past
which is a new beginning
one that might last
death to a poet is life
time to start a new chapter
turn the page
turn sadness into laughter
to a poet death is a new start
ending of strife
closing, locking the doors
of their old life
death has so many meanings
not only for a poet
all parts of life leads to death
some just don't know it
death means change
chance for a new beginning
put the past behind
stop losing, start winning
so to a poet
death is not always bad
we must write our feelings
whether good or sad
p.s.not sure this makes much sense
but i was buzzed ;)
poem by Sandy Nobody
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Progress
Progress
Progress expresses courage, leaves behind
All unhappiness as heart can start
Making up time lost. Each puzzle part
Eases into place within the mind, -
Light the touch, much tension may unwind
Allowing scope for hope, new worlds to chart.
Problems solved, and walls dissolved with art,
Augur pastures green, set scene to find
Magic harbour safe, serene, assigned, -
Excluding pressures in a world apart.
Life takes on fresh colours à la carte
And offers fair reflection unconfined.
PAMpered past to self acceptance cedes,
ELAtion follows as vain pain recedes
17 January 2005 Acrostic Sonnet robi3_1363_robi3_0000
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Poem Is The Poet
THE POEM IS THE POET
The poem is the poet
It tells his story even when he does not intend it to-
It bears his signature even when he forges it-
The poem is the poet-
It reflects his mind his soul-
It cannot be written without what he is
Though he denies what he is to himself-
The poem is the poet
And the poet's contradictions-
It is the mask of his self - expression
And his ultimate definition in words-
When he writes he becomes himself
And when he finishes it
He leaves a part of himself in it for as long as it exists.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Quatrain #292 - A poet is an artist who..........
A poet is an artist who paints images with words cast on the canvas of our mind
and uses expressions to make a point or evoke feelings of some particular kind.
A poem then is the handiwork of a poet who is usually inspired or otherwise,
being the medium through which he or she reveal themselves to peoples eyes.
poem by George Krokos
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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
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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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I wish
the real gifted
poet thrives
in this world
with words
that have taken up
meaning in the nether world
the realms
heavenly
and the non heavenly
the energised words
run through him
to other hearts
to light up the candles there
brighten up their world
help them
enjoy the
mysterious
elements
of the other worlds, realms
throwing the sparks
into their mind
so that for a moment
they too would feel
they are poets
share some of their thoughts
as the words wind
through their heart, soul
the whole system
to rattle the world
in various ways
the written poem
evolves into
something more intense
the colours the artist
pads onto his canvas
each stroke
a new painting born
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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Tom Zart's = Life Before Death
LIFE BEFORE DEATH
The Lord can close doors no man can open
And open doors no man can close.
It's up to us to prove our Heavenly worth
By our lifetime example of the path we chose.
Every night before sleep I say thank you to Heaven
For the past day I was allowed to love you and serve.
If I awake I say thank you once more
For God has blessed me far beyond what I deserve.
Tom's 480 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
Tom's 480 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
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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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
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A Journey Of A Poet
A journey begins with
A thought in our mind
Words are chosen and formed.
Lines of poem
Well Written with meanings
With words of emotions and expressions
A poet starts with
An inspiration of mind,
An aspiration in soul mind
With reflection
On our life experience
We start to
Compose some
Wonderful poetry
Expressing our innermost thoughts
With deep contemplation
To put them in poetry words
A journey begins when
A poet takes his imagination
To a place where
No one ever dream or imagine before.
A poet's journey ends by
Writing another lovely poem
And deep reflection
A poet remains
As a poet
When he or she
Continue to
Write and Share
lovely poems with the world.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Poem about Poetry - Chinese poets versus Western Poets
the chinese poet, his characters (calligraphy) help
set out images the western poets
look for words to show
the chinese poet, his characters help him
spread out his feelings and thoughts
the way a painting does
some meanings are trapped in his
pictographs that twirl and swirl over the page,
while some are reenforced
they show the schooled from the mediocre
the western poet, every cadence of the word
he has learnt since childhood determines his 'pedigree'
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Kind Of Magic
Words and music by roger taylor
Its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
A kind of magic
One dream one soul one prize one goal
One golden glance of what should be
Its a kind of magic
One shaft of light that shows the way
No mortal man can win this day
Its a kind of magic
The bell that rings inside your mind
Is challenging the doors of time
Its a kind of magic
The waiting seems eternity
The day will dawn of sanity
Is this a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
There can be only one
This rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be done
This flame that burns inside of me
Im here in secret harmonies
Its a kind of magic
The bell that rings inside your mind
Is challenging the doors of time
Its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
The rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be will soon be
Will soon be done
This is a kind of magic
There can be only one
This rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be done-done
Magic - its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
Magic magic magic magic
Ha ha ha its magic
Its a kind of magic
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Servitude Of Words
Muted words linger in limbo
imprisoned between many leaves
bound together in the darkness
of a poet's tried thesaurus.
Their alphabetic existence
is but an endless servitude
whose individual meanings
chosen and together sequenced
for the glory of the poet.
The many verses read aloud
gives each utile word a voice
and continues till completion.
Then darkness returns once again
as the reference book is closed.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Power Of The Poet
When the power of the poet
Comes from the Lord above,
The whole of Mankind will know it
And know it well enough...
For now, he sits and simply stares,
With phrases in his mind,
But suddenly he says his prayers,
God's secrets to unwind...
Then God looks down and nods His head,
With scrolls held in His hand
That tell the world why Jesus bled
And what the Lord has planned...
The poet humbly waits, receives
And then begins to write,
Sometimes he smiles, sometimes he grieves
As he shares each insight...
For now, a prophet has been born!
His eyes are open wide!
As if to greet a brand new dawn
That fills his soul with pride...
The Lord has blessed him secretly,
With prophecies galore
And his heart is thrilled completely,
Yes, to its very core...
He trembles as he writes each truth,
Describing what must come,
Condemning men with harsh reproof,
So conscience makes them dumb...
So men can't speak or find excuse,
So they seek mercy fast...
So that the Gentiles and the Jews
Find God before life's past...
The power of the poet grows,
As prophecies unfold
And match the beauty of the rose
Through revelations told...
The world will change because he prayed
And God the future shared...
The poet hoped the ones that strayed
Would find that God still cared...
That's why he wept in Jesus Name,
For future mercies when
So many sinners were to blame,
No greater time than then...
The poet's words were stored in books,
Across the centuries...
They're found in Bibles where each looks
Who seeks the Lord to please...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The novelist and the poet
the difference between
the poet and the novelist
the former invites you
straight into his world
a canvas that takes
words for paint
humour for techniques
realism for images
the novelist
on the other hand
flatters you with
his intelligence
but takes the liberty
to hide behind
each of his creation/character
hard it would be to
find the man in
the maze of his words
you would gain more
hunting for him in town
the novelist is a
calculative trader
seizing any idea that could
help him sell his words
the humble poet though has
to sniff out his real self, his own god-instilled rhythm,
to let us share his adventures, colours, dreams
the novelist craft words for money
the poet craft words - to find himself and shares it with those -
who wish to find their own selves
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm A Poet
I'm a Poet
A twister of words
I open a world unseen to others
I bring meaning to the meaningless
I use words as my weapon
It's a double edged sword
I can bring beauty to a slum land
Horror to a smile
I can give life to the dead
Immorality to a flower
Then destroy it in the next line
I'm a poet
A rhymer of words
I see the unseen
And create new worlds
I am an artist of the written
A magician of the pen
I can make words rhyme
Or go free verse
It all depends
On how I feel in that moment
I'm a poet
To the end
poem by Rachel Dowd
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