Dead Poet's Harmony

I saunter this earth, in soul's dead
Digesting their beauty and what they said
Poets weaved my fate and mine destiny
With their song and beautiful harmony
I follow them as they follow me
Inside of me, inside of thee
Dead poets live in immortality..
And sing through we for an eternity..
It is in Keats internal rhyme, my poem's enzyme
Yeats Irish mist where my sentiment exist
Shakepeare's sonnets write my life's true love
Poe's raven stalks in the shadows of my woes
And behind Emerson's mind, my mind transcends
And from all Poets pain, my soul descends…
Every song must be sung, and every poem must be shone
As we saunter earth, and resurrect birth
To the dead poet's souls of our destiny
As we all write in their harmony

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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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Follow the water

Follow the water
That follows the divine offering
Follow the womb that follows
The birth of a beautiful thing seen
Follow the dead body placed
Behind the place of purification
Follow the beatified soul
That will freely guide you
Follow the avengers of
Dead black sons gone soon
Follow the existence
Of your body and soul
The double make of you
Follow, follow, and follow
Where the poets go
Alone the lease traveled road
Follow the midnight cat hunting the darkness
It knows not where it goes put is up for the going
There is an adventure there
Follow the children concern with fighting
Impotent children of revolt against their own
Follow the justice slow to fill in Americus
Follow the battles of the black man
Follow the news of the pillars
Of given devotion in a famish year
Follow the two arms of the scale
That will reckon the weight of your sins in your life time
Follow the wickedness of the looker on
Who will do nothing to upset the cart of racism
And thwart all our enemies that rot the American soul
Follow the male love that in time will prevail
Against the selfish instruments of those who hate
Follow the followers who follow this poem.

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God's Poets A Good Poem & Love

GOD'S POETS

The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.

Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.

Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.

One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.

God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.

A GOOD POEM

A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.

A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.

A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.

A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.

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If I Knew What Poets Know

If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?

Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.

If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.

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No Poem Is An Original

No poem is an original
everyone who writes
poetry thinks their poem
was an original, it just so
happens that their poem just
surfaced to the top
of their mind first, so they
were able to write it.

Everyone has love, hate
compassion buried deep
in their soul.

Poets are able to bring
all of this to the surface,
to construct, add the words,
but it is not an original
idea, for the poet because
they wrote it now, it
becomes an original for them.

Who has not heard a song,
read a poem, story or book,
seen a movie and said,
to themselves, hey I had
that same idea.

Only thing is, someone else
brought it to the surface
of the mind, and wrote it first.
Even this poem I'm writing
now is not an original
someone out there
has this idea buried
deep in their soul.

So if you have an idea
for a poem, get busy
write it, don't wait,
or you won't write an original
start today,
don't delay.

wrote 2-2-07

poem by Jim FoulkReport problemRelated quotes
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A Poet To Be

A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.

I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.

I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.

I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.

But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.

I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.

I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.

I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.

A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.

I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.

I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.

It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.

A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.

But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.

How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.

As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.

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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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Dead Poets Live

Dead poets live
With words left behind
To linger in life's pages
Read again by others
Who travel
That long road
Of Poetry.

Dead poets live
In verses left behind
To play like old songs,
Sang again, touching those
Who dare to sing
Harmony
In poems.

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Poets

Poets write
and when the poem is done
they search for words
to write another one.

Poets write
and when the poem is through
they search for thoughts
to write another two.

Such is the life of a poet.

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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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Google = A Good Poem = 147, Ooo, Ooo

A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.

A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.

A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.

A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.

POETRY

God has always had his poets
Who He watches with love from space.
But Satan has his poets too
Who try to lead us from our grace.

King Solomon was a poet
Who spoke of love, life, death and war.
That lips were like threads of scarlet
And that breasts were roses and more.

The wild birds sing and flowers bloom
As clouds form figures in the sky.
But only humans will write poems
That shall last long after they die.

The eldest sister of all arts
Which some have called the Devils wine.
Poetry is but pure passion
To stimulate the heart and mind.

BY GOD'S POET = tom zart!

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(One More) Song For You

Da, da, da
I'm sittin' here and don't know what to do
just sittin' here and don't know what to do
there's nobody here I could ask how to do
just me and myself and nobody else
Although you're not, you're not here with me
I can hear your voice, speakin' to me
and when I close my eyes I can see your face
I know exactly what you're (just) about to say
Chorus:
And if I just write 'bout what's going on inside
like you said I should try
right from the bottom of my heart
And if I just write 'bout what's going on inside
what I have on my mind
right from the bottom of my heart
then there must be one more song for you
must be one more song for you
Da, da, da
It seems that I'm sittin' here now for days
already now I feel their critical gaze on me
what would I give for just one damn word
but it's just me and myself and nobodyelse
Chorus:
So if I just write 'bout what's going on inside
like you said I should try
right from the bottom of my heart
if I just write 'bout what's goin' on inside
what I have on my mind
right from the bottom of my heart
then there will be one more song for you
will be one more song for you
Maybe it's the way you look at me (look at me)
maybe it's the way your smile makes me feel (make me feel)
maybe it's the way you walk beside me (makes me)
well something, somehow makes me so sure
well something, somehow makes me
wanna just write 'bout what's goin' on inside
like you said I should try
right from the bottom of my heart
if I just write 'bout what's goin' on inside
like you said I should try
right from the bottom of my heart
and if I just write 'bout what's goin' on inside
what I have on my mind
right from the bottom of my heart
if I just write 'bout what's goin' on inside
what I have on my mind
right from the bottom of my heart
then there must be one more song for your
must be one more song for you
will be one more song for you
should be one more song for you
this is one more song for you
ooh god are you sure that I deserve it
ooh god I dont care if I deserve it
but let there follow, but let there follow
so much more
I'm sure there will follow, I'm sure there will follow
so much more songs
Da, da, da

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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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Who to blame for writers block?

Risen up from his cold dark tomb
the malevolent poet is alive again
his evil master has given him power
to confuse poets and bring them pain.
He's invisible to the poets eye
and he doesn't make a sound
his mission is to bring writers block
to all poets everywhere around.
The unaware poet stares at a blank screen
unable to create one single verse
the satanic force takes over his mind
his thoughts go from bad to worse.
The romantic poet thinks about death
his thoughts no longer on love and light
he wants to write about misery and war
and things that go bump in the night.
So the next time you can't write a poem
and your sitting there full of despair
you now know it's not you who's at fault
but it's the evil poet and he's over there!

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I Write To Write To Write

I WANT TO WRITE TO WRITE TO WRITE

I write to write to write-
A poem must be more than a straining against Emptiness-
A poem must be more than making a name.
A poem should be food for the heart and soul and mind
It should make us feel the world with new love
It should make us want to live more and more
A poem should make us love life
It should be written for its readers
And not for its poet alone
A poem should make us want to be in this world
In greater beauty and greater love.

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Why People Become Poets Poets Dreams

have you ever wondered why people become poets?
poets have been around since the beginning of time
and they have been mostly men, speaking of their loves, life
and emotions.
famous love stories, plays, movies, all seen thru a poets eyes.
just as the centuries have gone by and everything in life has changed
so have the poets.
there is now as many and if not more female poets
than male poets. why? because they are more sensitive to emotions
and are not afraid to show or speak of it, unlike men who want to
show the 'MACHO MAN IMAGE'
poets see life thru different eyes for different situations
and write about it in so many forms, and see the light and
the darkness in everything, including the good and bad.
it may be just one word, or a line, or verse
that enters their mind to start creating
what will become a poem,
what is the poets dream that you will create?
a love story, a sad story, one of fear or hate, or passion
one of beauty, or war.
so many things to choose from- but it doesn’t matter
what you may choose, you must take the first step.
just as reading this is the first step to start on your way to writing poetry
and opening up your mind and soul.
touching other people and receiving comments
and feedback on your writings will help you to improve
on your weak areas.
some people do it because they are looking for fortune and fame
while others want to communicate with others, and others
just to see their names on something other than
a bill being paid.

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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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My Song

Im going to sing my song
And sing it all day long
A song that never ends
How can I tell you, all the things inside my head.
The change in these past years
Has made me see our world
In many different ways
How can I tell you, love can change our destiny.
Love can change the world
Love can change your life
Do what makes you happy
Do what you know is right
And love with all your might
Before its too late
Where did I find all these words
Something inside of me is burning
Theres life in other worlds
Maybe theyll come to earth
Helping man to find a way
One day I hope well be in perfect harmony
A planet with one mind
Then I could tell you
All the things inside my head
Im going to sing my song
And sing it all day long
A song that never ends
How can I tell you, all the things inside my head.
Im going to sing my song
A song that never ends

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God's Poets, Love & A Good Poem

GOD'S POETS

The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.

Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.

Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.

One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.

God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.

EVERY OTHER NIGHT

If it was left to me and my desire
I would seek satisfaction every other night.
I would enjoy your divine, God given love
And hold you forever close and tight.

Every other night would be Heavenly for me
Though I must respect and honor what you do and say.
My need for you is far greater than your need for me
As I patiently wait for our time of play.

I will always remain watchful, loving and caring
Not to hurt, destroy, mistrust, dissatisfy or offend.
Out of all God's blessings from Heaven to Earth
You're my greatest treasure, passion and friend.

A GOOD POEM

A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.

A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.

A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.

A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.

Tom's 465 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!

Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/

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The Deceased Poets Of Nature

Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today

They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see

Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.

Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.

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