En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Young New Poet

I am that young new poet
Whom the world hadnt had a glimpse of yet
My works some do debunk
My effort many had try to sunk
But with him as my guide
I have never lean or slide
Instead i am just pervase in production
From birth to now, i think i had a collection
And yet i am still buried in this dust
But i am sure he will help me survived this lust
And when i leap from this mess
The world will wear my poem dress
So be prepared for that young new poet
Whom the world will drowned in what he get

poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet vs Poem

Does a poet makes poem
Or poem makes poet?
The eternal war goes on.
The big confusion who will solve it?

Poet fight with sword of pen.
Poem armoured with shield of senses.
Poet tries to rich sky high,
Poem pulls rope of meaning and tenses.

Does poet sketc the poem
Or poem drags him through the invigible gravity.
A piece of paper becomes battlefield.
The war of ink and vocabulary,
Creates a historic beauty.

Poet cages the poem in a book.
Where the world will look.
Praises all to poet 'oh how great'
But the poem is what counts after his death.

poem by Saurav Karki
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Letter To A Young Poet Revised

Letter to a young Poet

Dear Raman, so you want me to read your poem and state my opinion.
Well, you are fond of words and you are stacking them up in your poem.
That is a good thing; clearly you are a man who reads a lot.
So you want to be a poet, poetry is self indulgent pass time it doesn’t
change anything, no one reads it, other than cranky people. Should
a poet writes something nationalistic that resonance with, a nation’s
pride, like: “my country is the best in the world.” He will get a medal.

So why don’t you become an engineer or failing that, a cook. The world
doesn’t need, anymore academic poets who forever repeat what poets
of yore have said. For the common man a poet is regarded as a figure of
fun who spends valuable time putting useless words together to make
sense of a world he doesn’t understand. As my father said, when my first
poem was published: “How much did they pay you? ” If my words have
not scared you off, you’re a poet. The only tool you’ll need is honesty.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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 Poets

an old woman poet,
stood behind the table,
doling out plate after plate,
to the line of faces...
taking the time...
to ask each their name.

a young student poet,
jerked from the picket line,
beaten, and arrested...
now sits in jail.

the young man poet,
just home after a 12 hour shift,
went next door and mowed
his elderly neighbor's grass.

a young girl poet,
took in the stray cat,
fed it, and held it...
and rocked it to sleep.

the poor poet,
makes a pallot on the floor
of his empty room,
for the homeless to sleep on.

the old man poet,
goes to work again,
minimum wage with a smile,
to feed his sick wife...

the common poet,
build houses, works on machines,
tills gardens, works on cars...
treats everyone the same...
and no one knows his name!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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An Old Poet Should Bless The Young

AN OLD POET SHOULD BLESS THE YOUNG

An old poet
If he wishes to be wise
Should remember
The young.

He should remember
That they live by love
And know joy
He no longer can.

He should understand
That the most intense hope and dream
Is with those
At the beginning.

An old poet
Should bless the young
For they have so much of the beauty and goodness
Of this world
The old can barely remember.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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If It Hadnt Been For You

(verdi / kaye)
I would be through with love
Have nothing to do with love
If it hadnt been for you
If it hadnt been for you
Love hurt me from the start
Id still have a broken heart
If it hadnt been for you
If it hadnt been for you
You put your sweet lips on mine
And I believed in love again
The world took on a new shine
And, oh how sad it was then
When love was so cruel to me
How empty my life would be
If it hadnt been for you
And the little things you do
My whole world would fall through
If it hadnt been for you
If it hadnt been for you, ooh, ooh
My whole world would fall through
If it hadnt been for you
If it hadnt been for you
If it hadnt been for you
If it hadnt been for you
If it hadnt been for you

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When We Were Young

WHEN WE WERE YOUNG

1)
When we were young
The world was young
Now we are old
And the world is old too.

2)
When we were young
The world was young
Now we are old
And the world is younger
than we are.

3)
When the world was young
I was not young
Now I am old
And the world is older- also.

4)
To be old is to be sadder
So much is not here any more
One will never be
What one was-
One can still hope faintly to be
One what longed to be-
But one knows
This too probably
Will not be given.

5)
Oh how Youth flies by in it all its glory
Oh how Time leaves us alone
With our memories and sadnesses
Our fears
For what is yet to come.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Right Mask

One night a poem came up to a poet
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made out of
a nightingale's song, use that mask.
Oh, it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
still, try on the god mask,
now that mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tight mask, said the poet,
and the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubador's mask, or the singer's mask,
try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit so easily.

The poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its feet like a child,
it screamed. Then try on your own face,
try the one mask that terrifies,
the mask only you could possibly use,
the mask only you could wear out.

The poet tore at his face til it bled,
this mask? he yelled, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, yes.

But the poet was tired of masks,
he had lived too long with them,
he snatched at the poem and stuck it in his face.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
it wriggled into his eyes and mouth.

Next day his friends were afraid of him,
he looked so distorted.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly and never let go again.

poem by Brian Patten
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You Do Not Have...

you do not have to
read me
for me to become
another poet

i am
and i can be
and i will be
even without you

and you are
and you can be
and you shall be
even without me

i am a poet
because i have decided to write the poems
and the poem shall be there forever
until the right reader comes along

the one who loves
a poem even without me
even without you
even without the world

this poem and that poem shall be
even without us
for these are words
and words shall be words even without the world

for it was the word which came first
and shall remain
till eternity.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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God is the best poet

He thinks this world is not a poet’s game!
How can he hate the poet but love poem!
It’s like loving the creation and hating the Creator
Although from every perspective God is better!
He has not known yet
God is the best poet!

poem by Asif Andalib
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Is it a poem

Is it a poem
You are asking
And I am telling
If it is not poem
What is then.

Do you know
What poem means
The four letter
Poem stands
P- personal
o-optional
e-eternal
m-maternal .

Poem originate
From mother
And it never ends
Poem can be written
As per the will
As ordered
No grammer can
Give direction to poet
Poem is poet's personal
Property and its
Value is universal.

2

poem never dies
No water no fire
No air can destroy poem
No earth no sky
can entrap
Poem is above and beyond
Five elements of world
Poem is eternal.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Letter To A Young Poet

Dear Raman, so you want me to read your poem and state my opinion.
Well, you are fond of words and you are stacking them up in your poem.
That is a good thing; clearly you are a man who reads a lot.
So you want to be a poet, poetry is self indulgent’ it never starts a war
nor finished it. Should a poet write something that resonance with,
the sentiment of a nation, you can be sure it will be used by politicians
and interpreted for their dubious plans.

So why don’t you become an engineer or failing that, a cook. The world
doesn’t need, anymore academic poets who forever repeat what poets
of yore have said. For the people a poet is regarded as a figure of fun
who spends valuable time putting useless words together to make sense
of a world they don’t understand. As my father said when I published
my first poem: “How much did they pay you? ” So if my words have not
scared you off you’re a poet. All you need is intellectual honesty.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hey Young World Part 2

check one two
check one two
hey young world
check one two
check one two
young world young world

this track here may cause concern
for all ring leaders
why don't you listen and learn
love peace happiness once was strong
but due to society
even that's turned wrong

why?

don't be a dumb dummy
and disrespect mommy
why?
she put you on earth
and loved you since birth
and you

hey young world
the world is yours
hey young world
the world is yours
young world young world
young world young world

reward is a brainwashed kid gone wild
young little girls already have a child
bad company and now you've been framed
parents are hurting so hurted and ashamed
why?
hell lil kids don't follow these dopes
why?
don't be a fool like those who ditch school
it's yours

hey young world
the world is yours
hey young world
the world is yours
young world young world

get ahead
and accomplish things
you'll see the wonder and the joy life brings
don't admire thieves they don't admire you
their times are limited
and hardrocks too
listen be strong
and scream
woopie doo
go for yours
cause dreams come true
you'll make your mommy so proud of you too
and this is a message that the ruler rick threw

why?

(slick rick)
elders see our wise ones grow
interest in what their kid learned 'bout
seen how the offspring turned out
knowing you can now safeguard self
put upon an exciting path
you see immense pride they'll have

hey young world
the world is yours
hey young world
the world is yours
young world young world

don't discipline rule soundly
kids that we have lose boundaries
grow into what's called curse race lack independence
worst case imprisonment death near for
not what we brought kids here for
norals and values of sorts should be the first thing installed

believe it or not
god still shines on you
he guides you
and he watched you as you grew
stay out of trouble
when it comes insight
cause a man never loses a fight in god's sight

song performed by by Macy Gray from The ID
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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
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Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours

yet in this downcast hour
the mornlight
beautiful twitters of birds
lost in this dungeon of
meaninglessness of life
what sinful existence
day in day out
the beauty of the outside
that clashes with the
congested inside
that plies between loneliness,
sadness, anguish, near despair
yet the half opened window
on this seventh floor of the condominium
does not invite a jump
poet killers like plath and sextons are cowards
i dont fancy their cue
idiots slapping god's hands
so tirelessly, ceaselessly polish
the artistic soul, feelings
to get the poet ready for his task,
to guide the world through his messy world
putting things in their proper place
with his tongues locked in a poet's soul
so that readers too could come out of their mess,
distill a clearer mind of their own
through the poet's verses
the poet polishes the world
with words, polishes its soul
the other word for poet is psychologist
impatient confused plath, idiotic sexton
failing their ultimate poetic test
poet killers! !

inspired by

Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours
YET, yet, ye downcast hours, I know ye also;
Weights of lead, how ye clog and cling at my ankles!
Earth to a chamber of mourning turns-I hear the o'erweening, mocking
voice,
Matter is conqueror-matter, triumphant only, continues onward.
Despairing cries float ceaselessly toward me,
The call of my nearest lover, putting forth, alarm'd, uncertain,
The Sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me,
Come tell me where I am speeding-tell me my destination.
I understand your anguish, but I cannot help you,
I approach, hear, behold-the sad mouth, the look out of the eyes,
your mute inquiry,
Whither I go from the bed I recline on, come tell me:
Old age, alarm'd, uncertain-A young woman's voice, appealing to me
for comfort;
A young man's voice, Shall I not escape?
Walt Whitman

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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