My Spine is Thy Flute!
I adore you,
Not thy adornments,
my heart loves thee,
And not thy attributes,
o, master poet,
The power of your words, when words flow from poet,
thy powerful mind behind his
thoughts, Stopping the storms,
When you steer the ship,
over high waves,
I am not afraid of tidal waves,
Lightning and thunders,
Sleeping under your wings, O master poet,
without uttering a word, ,
Without writing a line,
but make poets sing and joyfully
write,
I love you thee, When you hold my hands,
No fear of fall,
Even if I fall, fall only safe into
your soft and gentle lap! My spine is thy flute,
Thou blow through Chakras,
AUM in different pitch and rich
tone,
My life dances to your tune,
For strains of trifles and for temporal pains immune!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Don't
Don't fall in love with a poet
for they will melt your heart
and there is no escape, you see
for romance is their art.
Don't try to vie with a poet
for words trip from their mouths
as easily as quick silver
that lines the darkest clouds.
Don't tell a poet your secrets
for very soon you'll see,
they'll write them as a metaphor
upon a paper sea.
Don't make a stance with a poet
for you don't stand a chance
they'll sway you with emotions
and words that sweetly dance.
Don't fall in love with a poet,
however they endear,
for strong romantic gestures
will conjure flowing tears.
Don't fall in love with a poet
for life will surely change
but oh how happy you will be
to have it rearranged.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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!
poem by Kevin Halls
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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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Master Of The Word
He writes with his feelings
Integrity in ever word
His poems make you think
About the why's in this world
As you read each one
You think
Been there done that before
But alas I can not say
Much about the wars
His eyes has seen
So much strife
Something I've yet to learn
I suppose I can say honestly
He's a true master with words
Respectfully I say to thee
Keep up the words you speak
I seam to be learning more
Of the world we paint with pens
With heart felt respect
I say to thee master of the words
His name is Eric Crockell
A true poet of the world
poem by Kaila George
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What Kind Of Poet Is He?
To express oneself with words is to be a poet.
Generally anyone who writes could be considered a poet.
It just to what magnitude, and degree are you?
Do you do it with passion?
Do you do it with a sense fashion? (I try to do it with both, but that is not always achieved. But I always do it with passion for I love to write.)
Does their always have to be a purpose behind it?
Or can you start writing and see where it leads.(A lot of the time that's me, but I do both with and without purpose.)
Do you do it all the time, does come in waves, or is it a one time thing.(For me it comes in waves.)
Is they a trigger, or is it spur of the moment? (Me in general it is triggered by an emotion. It doesn't matter where it comes from either.)
So you see it's not a question of are you a poet, but what kind of poet are you?
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Sonnet: the Master Poet
’Tis God who inspires in me fire!
He is the Master-Sculptor and Poet!
I play a melody with strings well-set;
God-kindled heart of mine becomes a lyre.
Every poet speaks to God in his mind,
In ways so strange that both can understand;
The Poet is a singer in his band;
To God’s tenets, his songs will always bind,
With time, he communicates very fast;
The Poet takes up every word of His;
And so the poems get very well cast;
As if God gave the poet’s mind- bliss.
To thee belongs my poems, O my Lord!
They are made great byThy divine accord.
3-3-2000
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Lunch With a Poet
I had lunch with a poet, just the other day.
A poet who has written fine and lofty verse,
Conveying his experiences, emotions and his ideas, in
Vivid, imaginative ways, condensed in simple language,
Choosing words for sound and power,
Rather than impressing readers with poetic adulterations.
Almost apologetically, he said he uses 'nickel words'
To write his inner thoughts. It was as if he were at fault,
As though he thought those simple sounds
Had lessened the intent of his poetic worth.
I emphasized how wrong he was, and tried
To make clear, a poet writes in sympathy with his reader,
Overleaping the barriers of understanding by the simplicity
Of his language, and of his words.
To write with words of misty meaning does not make
A mystic.
To write with vulgar words does not lift up the poem
On wings of song, it only floats as high as the poet's
Commonality who, mistaking flatulence for inspiration, becomes
Enmeshed in a literary byproduct of the foulest of excretion and Smells.
My friend failed to intellectually understand,
But spiritually Accepts, as his writings reveal,
That clarity of thought and mind is the poet's
Highest point of the poet's integrity.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When You Were Flower, I Became A Singing Bird!
I and you were in love for ever,
When you born here as flower,
I developed wings to fly around
you,
when you had that wonderful
petals, I too had colourful wings,
When you are fragrant,
I never developed fragrance,
Because I thought you may get
enchanted,
Or may faint and fall,
May fall quickly and
if you fall
then it is my own death
How can I live here without you!
I was not a poet, had no poesy,
Love made me to sing,
Singing bird I became,
Not because I had song,
Not because I had magical or mystic thoughts,
Not because of idioms and phrases,
Not that hold on figure of speech,
Only my heart wanted to sing,
My own lyrics and words, my own tune!
Enchanted by beauty of the stars shining on your face,
And the enchanting smiling lips
The kiss of that lips,
sure to take me to heaven, nay beyond heaven and to that plane,
Where hell can't reach,
Nor even heaven can match!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Lightning Rod
A poet is merely a lightning rod,
For passing through him the words of God!
He opens up his mind, receives,
Then passes on the message, grieves!
The words erupt from deep within him
That God has stored before, verbatim.
Line upon line of schemes, ideas,
When left to man, left man in tears.
Words left in trust at the Creation
Mankind would waste in dissipation.
Before, when Adam walked with Eve
In Eden's den of make-believe
Were knowledge trees and friendly serpents
As God composed the Ten Commandments!
And every verse of every poem
Was writ before the truth was known;
That nothing is ever achieved by man
Without the seal of God's own hand.
So laud me not, the poet's in me,
But deep within, the poet's empty.
A poet is merely a lightning rod
For passing through him the words of God!
9 November 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am No Poet
A poet... oh i am? , says I,
Perhaps it's what you think
Just mixed up words of life I cry
Like someone on the brink
Mere words assembled in a row
From thoughts a few of many
labelled then a poet so
Though none worth but a penny
I speak as though my mind should find
My head in quite a spin
With rhymes and verse a peace I find
That life could ne'er begin
That label sticks and holds me back
A form I have to follow
A fear of literary attack
Can leave my words quite hollow
So cast me not as just a poet
Sense that i am fighting
I'm more than that and you should know it
That's why i keep writing..
poem by Dave James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem about Poetry - what is not poetry
writing lines
not like a child
writing lines
robotlike
hitting at keys
rather than own heart
writing lines
throwing words
which are yet
our friends
words picked
from thesaurus
dictionaries
for word's sake
an alley of prostitutes
we treat as our wives
godless
writing as if
the world
possesses
no soul and
god, the real poet
who spares symbols
for his creation
trees, lightning,
thunder
for poets
to colour their world
to see the other side
of the world
how the trees, lightning
thunder
are a part of men
themselves
described,
the trees - spring of youth
lightning - rage
thunder - warning
the warming effect
god's verse to men's uncaring verse
misinterpretation of his symbols
god the leading poet
the world a repository of symbols
for his masterpiece
a masterpiece
we could only admire
the real poet leaves us
something to ponder about
and to add a verse or two
to his work
like the almighty poet
who when he likes
answers us back
in riddles
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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POET and POETESS
Poet and Poetess can write words oh so sweet.
They can make you throb inside,
make you feel the heat.
Poet and Poetess can write words oh so strong.
They can make you hurt inside,
make you feel what's wrong.
They take on love.
They take on hate.
They make your mind saturate
with tears of joy
and tears of woe
that just grab hold
and won't let go.
Poet and Poetess can write write words oh so true.
They can make you think inside,
make you think things through.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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A Poet Loses His Power For Poetry
A POET LOSES HIS POWER FOR POETRY
A poet loses his power for poetry
He can put down words
But they no longer have poetry in them
Something of the feeling of what real poetry is
is gone.
He strives
He writes again and again
He puts words down in the forms and in the shapes his poems usually take
But he has no poetry in him
He has lost what he is
And all he can do
is strive again and again
Word after word
Silence after silence
To hear within himself again
A voice he does not have.
The poet is writing poetry
And it is not poetry
The poet is dead
And he is pretending to be alive
Is this a poem?
Is he a poet
Is he dead?
Is he alive?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You are the poet
Poet is a journalist
Watches the feelings
Watches the emotions
Watches the world
Watches the light and
Watches the dark
He thinks everywhere
Others can’t imagine
-o-
Chasing the thoughts
Searching the words
Forming the sentences
To give the expression
To put the life in it
-o-
Poet is like a cook
Collecting good ingredients
Cooking the feelings to
Present in better way
-o-
Poet is like a soldier
Fighting in the war and
Fighting with the self
Feeling the pain and
Bleeding the emotions
Making room for self
To express the story
To save the people
-o-
Poet is like mother
Cooking the soft food
Feeding smoothly
Treating the readers like his own kids
Reader’s happiness is poet’s happiness
If you can’t praise, no problem
But don’t forget to acknowledge
-o-
Poet is the center of universe
Editors, Music directors,
Composers, singers, musicians,
Media everybody is rotating around
-o-
Poet writes to quench intellectuals
Poet writes to entertain good listeners
Poet writes to move hearts
Poet writes for a cause
Poet write for entertainment
Poets write to express themselves
Poets write to share their feelings
-o-
When time is running
Poem is the history
In present it reflects the story
Poem gives the hope in future
-o-
Poet is the planter
Plants seeds into your hearts
Make sure that it sprouts
Brings the thoughts into actions
-o-
Poet is the director behind your actions
Poet is the motivator behind your feelings
Poet is the coach who puts you on track
Poet is person whom your heart likes
-o-
Poet is the soldier when he uses poem as bullet
Poet is the coach when his poem moves your heart
Poet is the love, when he gives poem as flower
Poet is the parent, when he consoles you in your troubles
Poet is the healer who heals souls
Poet enters different roles
To justify the poem and to justify the people
-o-
Poem is the form of literature
We can find in holy books
Poem is the feelings
Poem touches the hearts
-o-
Sun can be seen in day
Moon can be seen in night
But poem is there day and night
Poem is powerful than nature
Poem don’t have life and death
Just it flows from heart to heart
Poet is the instrument
In the hands of the poem
-o-
If you drink a cup of alcohol
It may stay there just for hours
If you read a good poem
Nobody knows how long it gives the kick
-o-
When you have time, read a good poem
When you have time, write some poetry
When you have time, share a poem
-o-
You will be the poet, when you read a poem
You will be the poet, when you put on paper
You can be the poet to change your self
You can be the poet to change the world
You must be a poet, to enjoy this life
Waiting for you, to listen to your poem
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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