The Pivot Of A Poet
There was a great big poet
Full of hardship and trumpet,
He can not admire
The broad desire
To write like a man not pivot.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
George Crabbe Wrote Of
George Crabbe wrote of hardship and poverty and woe
In the England he lived in a long time ago
But perhaps his poems might be more popular today
Had he looked at life in a less truthful way.
George Crabbe wrote of children in dire poverty
The poor sad victims of Human cruelty
And the poems full of pathos and the poems full of truth
Of a poet who was blessed with the great gift of ruth.
He wrote of human cruelty to their own kind
A God in the soul of such a person you'll find
He did not write of mythological figures or monarch or squire
He wrote for the poor his type I do admire.
Of the poverty around him he was all too aware
But poets like George Crabbe they have always been rare
Though if you feel a bit down and a good laugh you do need
His poems lacking in Humor are not for you to read.
Of the poor souls of England George Crabbe did write
His poems not hard to understand or to read or recite
And though as a person and poet he was great
Such poets the masses never do celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pivot
Giving up a sight,
To scope upon another...
Is a pivot.
Why can't you pivot.
Turning your head,
Sometimes would be better...
If you pivot.
Why can't you pivot.
Why can't you leave what is,
To be it's own.
Why can't you,
Let live and let live alone.
Why can't you,
Walk away or go back home.
Giving up a sight,
To scope upon another...
Is a pivot.
Why can't you pivot.
Turning your head,
Sometimes would be better...
If you pivot.
Why can't you pivot.
Why can't you leave what is,
To be it's own.
Why can't you pivot.
Do a pivot.
Why can't you,
Let live and let live alone.
Why can't you pivot.
Do a pivot.
Why can't you,
Walk away or return back home.
Why can't you leave what is,
To be it's own.
Why can't you,
Let live and let live alone.
Giving up a sight,
To scope upon another...
Is a pivot.
Why can't you pivot.
Turning your head,
Sometimes would be better...
If you pivot.
Why can't you pivot.
Turning your head,
Sometimes would be better...
If you pivot.
Why can't you pivot.
Why can't you do this.
Do a pivot.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hope Always To Write
'hope always to write more
not to be a good poet'
the words of my friend
Hosny Soliman defined
my thoughts perfectly
to write just a little more
to gift just a little more
to give just a little more
with no thought wasted
upon desire to write
a good poem a great poem
Splitting image from the poem ‘We Sing Our Love In Life Worships’ by Terence George Craddock.
Dedicated to the painter poet Hosney Soliman.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Impact Of Education
A continuous, arduous endeavor for education
Can pull one out of the financial hardship, a curse
Helps him or her to push forward the next generation
To rush for knowledge power and poverty to crush
True education can make a person empowered with
Maturity, full of strength, noble quality, self dependence
Full of spirit, optimism, bright outlook, broad vision
Brave heart, full of virtue and art, full of self confidence
poem by Umaprosad Das
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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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Proclamation
How many poems
must one write to be a poet?
None. An entire lifetime...
may be but a prostrate patterned poem.
How many poems must be
written to realize a great poet?
Only one. A single great
poem proclaims great poet.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Simply admire
Admire women; admire objects.
Admire them quite liberally.
When it comes to desires, be wise.
Desire might cause suffering.
13.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Full Moon Spell!
Today is full moon
So pretty she gaze
With beauty of her ray
Above the sky high
Oh my inner admire her so.....
Today is full moon
I caste my spell
Oh lady of Beauty
Full fill my entire wish
Come true and only true
Today is full moon
Please disregard my spell not......
Caste your beauty and light on me....
With all luxuriousness I need
For world to admire on the earthly thee
Today is full moon …..Everyone caste your desire spell 3times …….with sliver coin n water thee Oh lady of beauty, moon light fulfill my desire thee
poem by Ezna Stephna
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A Message Here For All You Poets
The love poet writes of lovely things like true love and flowers in bloom
And the roses in the poet's garden scent of a sweet perfume
And the gentle hearted applaud him saying what a marvellous poet
He surely is a child of God and one worthy of note.
The love poet writes of love of God and the God fearing say
He's a fine poet one of the best love and respect to God he pay
He hear no evil speak no evil only write of God and love
And there's a place reserved for him in God's Kingdom up above.
The social issues poet writes of the poor and few his verses read
They say he writes such morbid stuff sob stories we do not need
He keeps highlighting the downtrodden and those in poverty
He ought to put more trust in God and in Humanity.
A message here for all you poets don't write of the downtrod
But write of affairs of your heart and write of your love of God
And some will say how great you are and your praises they will sing
And they will pay respect to you and call you their Poetic Queen or King.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Trumpet Player
The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has dark moons of weariness
Beneath his eyes
where the smoldering memory
of slave ships
Blazed to the crack of whips
about thighs
The negro
with the trumpet at his lips
has a head of vibrant hair
tamed down,
patent-leathered now
until it gleams
like jet-
were jet a crown
the music
from the trumpet at his lips
is honey
mixed with liquid fire
the rhythm
from the trumpet at his lips
is ecstasy
distilled from old desire-
Desire
that is longing for the moon
where the moonlight's but a spotlight
in his eyes,
desire
that is longing for the sea
where the sea's a bar-glass
sucker size
The Negro
with the trumpet at his lips
whose jacket
Has a fine one-button roll,
does not know
upon what riff the music slips
It's hypodermic needle
to his soul
but softly
as the tune comes from his throat
trouble
mellows to a golden note
poem by Langston Hughes
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Who says I'm a poet
Yes I write lines
And rhyme rhymes
I write puns
Simile alliteration
And all figures of speech
But who says I’m a poet
In some cases I write and scratch
Sometimes I think crack
Voice out loud dah
Making speeches like damn
Combining words
Building sentences
But who says I’m a poet
I maybe great and brave
Embracing grave
Like person reading a Braille
Showing how strong I dare
But still at night I stare
Thinking who says I’m a poet
I may speak with sticks
Throwing ink turned into voices
Beat with lips
To defend my choices
That might be pointless, thoughtless
Maybe fair-less
Because no one says I’m a poet
They say;
Self recommendation has no justification
Practice makes perfect
But I say;
If you can’t recommend yourself who will
Why practise if no one is perfect
Because I’M A POET I say
poem by Zama Ashley Helebe
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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.
poem by Adam McKim
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Sonnet XXXIV: Marvel Not, Love
To Admiration
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Ravish'd a world beyond the farthest thought,
And knowing more than ever hath been taught,
That I am only starv'd in my desire.
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Aiming at things exceeding all perfection,
To Wisdom's self to minister correction,
That I am only starv'd in my desire.
Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire,
Though my conceit I further seem to bend
Than possibly invention can extend,
And yet am only starv'd in my desire.
If thou wilt wonder, here's the wonder, Love:
That this to me doth yet no wonder prove.
poem by Michael Drayton
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I May Not Have Been A Great Poet
I MAY NOT HAVE BEEN A GREAT POET
I may not have been a great poet
Or even a good poet
Or even the poet I wanted to be.
But I am the poet I could be
The poet I am.
And may God have mercy on my soul,
And on all those I love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am A Virtual Poet In Virtual Hiding
I AM A VIRTUAL POET IN VIRTUAL HIDING
I am a virtual poet in virtual hiding
I do not want to be seen
Or known
I want to write my lines
And be worshipped from a distance
As if my person and my name
Had no real connection.
Praises and more praises are fine
Critical evaluations which admire – excellent
If non- existent and potentially embarrassing-
But please don’t come too near
With what you say-
I fear if you hear me
You will steal my essence-
And know this truth -
‘I am a virtual poet
In need of, fear of
An acclaim-
I don’t really believe I deserve.’
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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The life of a Poet
The poet listens
the poet hears
he writes down
all his fears.
He observes things
that others don't
going to places
that others won't.
Inspired by simple things
like a sound or smell
the poet has lots
of stories to tell.
Even when asleep
his mind isn't at rest
in fact this is the time
it's at it's creative best.
The poet can be a restless soul
his life reflected on the page
some verse can be sweet and mild
then full of anger and rage.
The poet can be mysterious
and write in a strange way
he will say Black is White
and that night is day.
The poet is an artist
but instead of paint it's the word
painters want their work to be seen
but poets just need to be heard.
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Poet Who No Longer Believes In Himself
THE POET WHO NO LONGER BELIEVES IN HIMSELF
The poet who no longer believes in himself
And writes on anyway-
The poet who is too weak to stop writing-
The poet who has died as a poet,
Before he has as a person-
The poet who may never have lived as a poet-
The old old old schnook,
Still trying to write a poem
And believing he has done it once again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Poems of great poets
I used to read poems of great poets
They had great sense of humor but looked quiet
They were all in their late seventies
Full of experience and knowledge to influence young of twenties
I was not at all fascinated but greatly influenced
I looked with shame as some of words were not correctly pronounced
I was shocked in disbelief and it was quite disheartening
This all seemed to me as if end of career and its shortening
I used to wonder and watch at the sky
How easily the birds could roam and fly!
They had no restriction and could easily sing
They were armed with liberty and powerful wings
I used to hear great stories about the hard way and plight
How much great people were to struggle and fight?
Today I see them usher in great fame and in new era
This was made possible with additional effort or extra
It is good to have some literary test
It gives right way of means to prove best
The ideas can be expressed in best possible way
This also makes it possible for the tension and worries to keep away
I wondered what I would become or be able to write in future
It was just an anxiety but for something I was very sure
I would impress upon people and try to secure
The formidable position to attain and reassure
This was only dream and I was living in it
I was not at all near to it or able to fit
It was not such easy job and difficult to fulfill
All aspirations were to be realized but all in infancy stage still
It is child’s wish and may find it with good finish
It is life time desire before one is about to perish
It is not like having a desire of tasteful dish
It may remain all the way a simple but powerful wish
Most of us desire for great skill
But besieged with inferiority and zeal
Think of a poem that comes out with no feeling
Have then full thrust with will power of stealing
One may have very good zeal with poet's heart
With all concentration and dedication to start
That may improve upon with passing of phase
You will then with watching it with ease
Sincerity and skill can play a trick
One should be very simple and not strict
There should be simple and straight presentation
Even if you are unsuccessful still it will be a consolation
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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