0124 A Dead Poet Comments on 'Comments
Erstwhiles,
of candle-laboured hours and screwed-up eyes,
the quill scratch-scratching, the paper ragged rough, the ink
unwieldy, black and unredeeming
as a judge’s cap –
fame – or barely fame,
the least to be hoped for, a mere ‘name’ – a
mere sheet of scrawled, curled paper
passed around a smoky coffee-house: they
so shrewd of eye and savage oft of wit;
or at the best, the whim of jobbing printer:
then, fame or forgetting lay beyond this life.
The grave’s a humbling, private place
where even poets labelled ‘metaphysical’
begin their education quite anew…
and yet, and yet - some centuries ahead,
some divine post-classic irony may devise
a means of universal access
to poems quite unread
(alas, and oft unread their readers too…)
and so, humbled by cold grave and death,
there’s one more humbling yet to bear:
the stripling’s comments on a verse that lives,
the poet – would he know it – dead:
‘Not so great – keep writing’…
raising in these bleachwhite bones and grimjaw skull
the faintest meta-physical, unseen
ghost of a smile
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
Fame, (fame) makes a man take things over
Fame, (fame) lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame, (fame) puts you there where things are hollow
Fame (fame)
Fame, its not your brain, its just the flame
That burns your change to keep you insane (sane)
Fame (fame)
Fame, (fame) what you like is in the limo
Fame, (fame) what you get is no tomorrow
Fame, (fame) what you need you have to borrow
Fame (fame)
Fame, nien! its mine! is just his line
To bind your time, it drives you to, crime
Fame (fame)
Could it be the best, could it be?
Really be, really, babe?
Could it be, my babe, could it, babe?
Could it, babe? , could it, babe?
Is it any wonder I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Is it any wonder you are too cool to fool
Fame (fame)
Fame, bully for you, chilly for me
Got to get a rain check on pain (pain)
(fame)
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame ,fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame
Whats your name?
Feeling so gay, feeling gay
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame '90 (Gass Remix)
Fame 90
David Bowie
words and music by David Bowie, John Lennon and Carlos Alomar
Fame, makes a man take things over
Fame, lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow
Fame
Fame, it's not your brain, it's just the flame
That burns your change to keep you insane
Fame
Fame-f-fame
Fame, what you like is in the limo
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow
Fame, what you need you have to borrow
Fame
Fame, "Nien! It's mine!" is just his line
To bind your time, it drives you to crime
Fame
(What's your name?)
Fame
Could it be the best, could it be?
Really be, really, babe?
Could it be, my babe, could it babe?
Really, really?
Is it any wonder I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Is it any wonder you are too cool to fool
Fame
Fame-f-fame
Fame, bully for you, chilly for me
Got to get a rain check on pain
Fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame
Fame, fame, fame
Fame
What's your name?
(whispered)
Feeling so gay, feeling gay
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Fame That Destroyed The Poet
To be poet you must have desire to understand in all things large and small.
Even what being poet means after all.
Fame is hardly lived by those who are truly great.
In fame we all wish to embrace.
Some desire it more then others.
But an expectation of the best will only smother.
Extinguish a flame that yet needs to grow.
A burning of such a unique cloth.
The embers begin glow as the material turns to ash.
And something you had is gone just like that.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lake Poets
You have heard of William Wordsworth he was bard of Cockermouth
And he truly was a great poet if that ever was in doubt
And with Southey and With Coleridge they became known as the lake poets
And they made the Lake District famous and some famous poems they wrote.
Robert Southey was a fine poet he was slave to poetry
And he was for awhile Poet Laureate proves the great poet he must be
And though he is not well known as Coleridge and Wordsworth's is a greater name
He tends to be under rated and deserve a better fame.
And as for Samuel Taylor Coleridge a name verse critics celebrate
His works were born of genius a poetic all time great
The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner his masterpiece and some say
Is even greater than the famous elegy of Gray
And as for himself Will Wordsworth his fame seem to grow and grow
He has fifty times as many readers nowadays as he had one hundred years ago
When one talks of poets and poetry Wordsworth's name can't be left out
A testimony to the greatness of the Bard of Cockermouth.
Coleridge, Southey and Wordsworth geniuses all three
Their names inscribed in glory and poetic history
They lived in the Lake District that beautiful English country side
And due to the fame of these men the Lake District is known World wide.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fame
(d.bowie, j.lennon, c.alomar)
Performed by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over
Fame, lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame, puts you there, where things are hollow
Fame
Fame, its not your brain, its just the flame
That burns the change to keep you insane
Fame
Fame, what you like is in the limo
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow
Fame, what you need you have to borrow
Fame
Fame, nien! its mine! is just his line
To bind your time, it drives you to, ah, crime
Fame
Could it be the best, could it be?
Really be, really, babe?
Could it be, my babe, could it, babe?
Really be, really, babe?
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame
Is it any wonder
Youre too cool to fool
Fame
Fame, bully for you, chilly for me
Got to get a rain-check on pain
Fame
{vocoder}
Ba ba be
Ba be ba be
Ba be ba be
Ba ba ba ba
Ba ba
Baby, baby
Baby
Fame
Whats your name?
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
(bowie, lennon, alomar)
Fame, makes a man take things over
Fame, lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame, puts you there, where things are hollow
Fame..
Fame, hurts your brain, just a flame
A funny tin to dip you inside
Fame..
Fame, what you like is in the limo
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow
Fame, what you need you have to borrow
Fame..
Fame, the dirty swine, its just his line
Hes only trying to drive you to crime.. (crime)
Fame..
Is it any wonder
Ill reject you first
Is it any wonder
Youre too cool to prove
Fame
A ticket for you, a ticket for me
Ive gotta get to witchitta
Fame..
Fame (rpt x23)
Whats your name?
What a game..
What a shame.. what a shame..
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame Postmortem Intervals
singers poets
are often remembered
for just one
or two songs poems
an interesting fact
is several great
classical poets
had very few poems
or even none
published
during their lives
fame postmortem
singers posers are often
electric fly by nighters
instant one hit wonders
longer lasting new styles
fading shadows
echo early days
flush fame games
history craze slices
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fame
(Van Morrison)
Oh fame, they've taken everything and twisted it
Oh fame they say
You never could have resisted it
What's in a name
And everybody's jaded by fame
Oh fame again
The press has gone and made another mess of it
Oh just because they got
So much invested in it
But they say you're to blame it's your own fault
'Cos you got mixed up in fame
Oh no don't believe all that old Andy Warhol guff
It takes a lot more than 10 or 15 minutes
That's just not enough
To qualify you for
Fame, you went beyond the boundries of sanity
And every day you defy
All the laws of gravity
You ain't got no shame
'Cos you're just addicted to fame
Oh no don't you buy none of that old Andy Warhol stuff
It takes a lot more than 10 or 15 minutes
That's just not enough
To qualify you for
Fame, they're already setting up your own Watergate
Oh fame, that stalker out there is just filled with hate
You'll never be the same
'Cos everyone's corrupted by fame
Oh fame, they took away all my humanity
Oh fame got to fight
Every second of the day for my dignity
It's a spectator's game
And there ain't nothing fair about fame
Oh fame, oh fame
Oh fame say it again, fame
They say you're to blame
'Cos you got mixed up in fame
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My poems are stored
My poems are stored
In a funeral box
Kept beside the bed
They go unread
Similar objects are kept
Locked in my heart and head
They go unread
The habitation of my poems
Is bonded red
They go unread
All poems are offerings
To the god that can not read
For poems are only human
Made things
The bees do not care for them
Neither does the birds
Or the trees with better
Things to do then
Take note of them.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flooding
Flooding
Posting volumes
Of several poems
Covers the page
Blocks other choices
And fences other writers
Yet is no guarantee
That flooding is read
For all the poetry
For the myriad words said
Remains suspended
Unread
Unread
Unread
Dead.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The literary life
We went to the house
of Afrikaans poetry together
on weekends and spent hours there
and listened to the master lecture
and met some poet friends
around a table
with a drink or two.
Sometimes the poetry was Afrikaans,
English, Dutch or even German
and we learnt form poets
around the globe.
We discussed what we had
just learned,
asked about his views
of certain things,
or what people in the group think,
discussed poetry, life,
sometimes even politics
and philosophy
as individuals of a group.
We read our poems,
listened to other poets,
reading their own,
analysed every word, every line
comprehending meaning, impact
and sharpened our art.
Your poetry was really great,
from when I read the very first line,
but mine had still to grow
from rhyme into free verse.
At times I hated comments
that forced me to move,
but realized that it was meant
with great goodwill
and even though I was in pain
I sharpened my verse
and free verse brought
a clearer ear, making it
much easier to write
great rhyme.
Now that I had to leave Pretoria,
weekends I really miss
that great writing school,
new poems from great poets,
learning something there,
experiencing poetry at its core,
lectures from that great master
and verses of his own,
but much more
your poems.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Swan Song
A poets quill lies on his desk
Atop a sheet of coffee-stained
Paper containing stylish script-
An Edwardian handwriting.
The quills point appeared to be dry
For sometime, likewise the inkwell.
On closer inspection the words
On the page became legible:
“My Swan Song” the title began.
It continued: “The flame of life
Grows dim and everything I have
Seen in this light was through the eyes
Of love. Love was writing verses
With this pen.” The words ended there.
Further searching found a yellowed,
Crinkled obituary clip:
“Today the town is saddened by
The loss of its poet Albert__...”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Silent Lessons
the poet in his work
tries to find himself, refine it
to let the lotuses in him bloom
the real poet lives in his own private realm
filtering sunshine to allow the rainbow in him to glow
the readers, well they are mere flower lovers
the lotuses that bloom by day
to show their wonder
and fold by evening
show not an inch of care
for praises, criticism
they are the real poets
- coaching verse writers!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Frame
Whoa-oh, fame
They're takin' ev'rything an' twistin' it
Whoa-oh, 'fame' they're sayin'
Yeah, I never could have resisted it
What's in a name
And ev'rybody's jadded by fame
Whoa, fame again
The press has gone an' made another mess of it
Ho-oh, just because they've got so much invested in it
But they say you're to blame, it's your own fault
'Cause you've got mixed up in fame
Whoa, no don't believe all that
Old Andy Warhol guff!
It takes a lot more than ten or fiften minutes
That's just not enough
To qualifiy you for fame
Ya went beyond the boundaries of sanity
And ev'ryday you defy all the laws of gravity
Ya ain't got no shame
'Cause you're just addicted to fame
Alright
(Instrumental and guitar)
Whoa no, don't ya buy
None of that old Andy Warhol stuff-a
It takes a lot more than ten or fifteen minutes
That's just not enough
To qualify you for fame
They're already settin' up your own Watergate
Whoa-oh, fame
That stalker out there is just filled with hate
You'll never be the same
'Cause ev'rybody's corrupted by fame
Whoa-oh-oh-oh, fame
You took away all my humanity
Oh-oh, fame
Got to fight ev'ry second of the day for my dignity
You're suspectator's game
And there ain't nothin' fair about fame
Do it again
Whoa-oh
(Fame)
Whoa-oh
(Fame)
Say it again
Whoa-oh
(Fame)
Say it again
Fame
(Fame)
They say you're to blame
'Cause you got mixed up in fame.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dread
dread is such a
nice word upon the
mouth of someone
whose life depends
on the mere signing
of a pen and upon
a stroke his life
vanishes away
upon a mere scratch
of a signature
dread is such a word
that i write only on paper
because saying it
makes you panicky
i dread to do this
but sooner a name
is written on paper
by you my Master
if you must today
please write my nickname
sort of final affection.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Epitaph On Johnson
Here Johnson lies, a sage by all allowed,
Whom to have bred, may well make England proud;
Whose prose was eloquence, by wisdom taught,
The graceful vehicle of virtuous thought;
Whose verse may claim, grave, masculine and strong,
Superior praise to the mere poet's song;
Who many a noble gift from Heaven possessed,
And faith at last, alone worth all the rest.
O man, immortal by a double prize,
By fame on earth, by glory in the skies!
poem by William Cowper
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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