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Just A Poet

I am just a poet
Poems are my life
Words are the soul
The pen is my might.
Versus are the cup
From which that I drink
And knowledge is the bread
From which my mind is fed.
I live if just to write
The words that I cant speak,
For locked away in my mind
Are the versus to be rhymed.
I am but a simple writer
With a pen and pad in hand
Gazing at the sky and trees
To write what man should read.
I have walked many trodden paths
And down many mournful road,
Now I write about their tears and fears
For now they have became my soul.
I cant cure a mans health
Nor can I stop a war
As I am not much as I see myself
A poor man who loves the Lord.
And when I walk my last mile
And then I'll write my last smile
And on my pad it will show it
That I was but, a simple poet.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am My Poem

When you see me,
you see my poems.
For when i breath, i breath out ballads.
But vers libre express my heart.

Should i write in complicated
and rhythmic words to make
my poems deep and beautiful?
My life is complicated already.

Should i write in simple and
enticing words to make
my poems attractive?
My life is not that simple.

Like stream to the river
down to the sea,
so is my poems from my
soul to my spirit down to my body.

You may disapprove me
but come and take a walk
within my soul and see if
you can live there for a moment.

So when i write, must i
invite you to read.
Read if you want to.
I write because the chamber
of soul finds relieve.

poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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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Words

I write there, and then you write they’re
I write who, and then you write whom
I misspell my words, too me you then curse
Then you call me a stupid loon.
You call me names, from which I refrain
Then I am off to a different room.

I forget punctuation's, It gives you frustrations
I don't use a contraction, you give me verbal action
Then I misspell a word, you call me absurd
I give you my silence it’s my only reaction.
You call me a name, my innocence I proclaim
My humility is seems, is your only satisfaction.

I sit at my typewriter, I still am a fighter
As I close my eyes, words still materialize
Words are my friends, rhyming is my sin
Maybe someday that, you will realize.
I finish another poem, to the world I show them
I write another verse, it becomes my universe.

You are my inspiration, my poems your creation
You correct what I write, it gives you such delight
You enjoy to respell, at words which you excel
You tell me they are wrong, I know you are right.
But you still are my friend, I hope it will never end
I am the poet, your a wordsmith and you show it.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crown Of A Poet

When my pens are all dried up
And my writing on Earth is done
I will then take off my tarnished crown
And I will hand it off to my son.
To continue the writing that I have started
As from this world I have parted.

A poet my son he will become
To reflect his life in rhyme
To bring forth beauty and wonder of himself
Which will take a never ending life.
For the last poem is like a kiss,
For one is born whenever there is a wish.

A poets pencil is his best friend
And a piece of paper is his canvas of white
To paint the words that have been unpainted
And to stir the soul and open the mind.
To bring forth again the smiles and tears,
That has been locked away for so many years.

And when my pencils have all been broken
And my writing pads are burnt in fire
I will then loose my poetry crown
As I will seek a higher power.
Where my poems will be written upon the sky
Where tears again I will never cry.

My tarnished crown will become my sons
To write on Earth what he sees best
To write during the day and at night to pray
For a poet, as he knows no rest.
For sleep does seldom ever come.
To the one whose fingers are always numbed.

And when his hands are old and tired
The Lord then will give him his sleep
For a job isn't finished until the Lord says so
But then never again will He weep.
And then my crown I will give to my son,
So the dream of ours, will never be done.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do I Write

I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go

I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain

At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down

I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it

I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am

poem by Wilfred Mellers
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I read another poet I could not understand

I READ ANOTHER POET I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND

I read another poet I could not understand
The metaphors racing one after the other
The eternal thoughts taking on a new particular dress
Words and more words
Lines and more lines
Rushing toward meaning and beauty.

And in it all my simple not understanding,
My waiting to hear words that would return to me-
My understanding
That only by my own effort
By my reading again and again
By my willing to believe
Could I make another poet real.

But do I want another poet to be real
When I am a question,
And when there are already others real for me also?

Oh selfish little man oh poor poor reader-

Write your poem alone again
As if no one but you will ever be able to write
The poems which are real.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Are a Poet

If you are a poet it means so much
as others souls you often touch.
Your own soul you cruelly cut
petting the others with your blood.

To be a poet means to sing of beauty
and it’s the main poet’s duty.
Rhyming the words to tell the truth
and it has to be quite smooth.

To be a poet means to burn with passion,
to treat the others grief with a compassion,
to love the others as yourself,
to hear the voice of kind elf.

To be a poet means to dream,
to tell the world a touching theme,
to speak sincerely and frankly
but not just rhyming poems blankly.

Rhyming words is not the main,
there’s no need to strain your brain.
If your heart has nothing to tell
rhymed words will look like hell.

To be a poet means to write
as if your blood gushes from vein,
to write the rhythm of living breath,
the rhythm of life that seethe.

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
30/9 2010

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)

I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why I Write?

I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face

poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead And Gone

In years from now when I am dead and gone
Will people read the words that I had wrote
If they do will they agree with what they read
And if so truly, understand the feelings I had spoke.
Will they feel the pain and suffering that I felt
In the many days of my own life
Maybe they will etch my feelings inside their soul
And If so, I wonder for me if they will cry.
I wonder if anyone will go into a deep thought
After reading the words that I had spoke
And then will they think and understand that feeling too
While inside their soul or heart a memory I will had awoke.
Maybe they will be with me in those lonesome nights
When my soul and I felt so very alone
When I couldn't sleep so I had to write
While my soul stayed stationary, but my mind it did roam.
And will they feel the pain that I did feel
With every line that I suffered as I did write
Will they shed a tear that my lover never shed for me
While she was always in my heart and in my sight.
And when they finish my book and close it shut
Will they reflect my feelings as they walk away
Will they say they know the pain that I have felt
As they too had felt it in their very own days.
Will they cry the tears that was never cried for me
As they go searching for my last resting place
To give the sympathy they might say I deserve
While trying to visualize my soul through my face.
If they look and find and then walk unto my grave
I wander for me if i will receive long forgotten grieving
Telling me how sad and the pity they hold for me
After reading my words, maybe they will start believing.
And maybe they will walk to the graves of the others
The ones who did me wrong and who sealed my fate
Who made me the poet whom I had to become
Will they tell them their souls, and living they do hate.
So as I finish writing with these last few thoughts
I hope forever my words and feelings will continue on
As I know I am not alone and my pain is not fastened to me
But really who will know, until I am dead and gone.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write

Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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How Do You Write Poetry

There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!

9 November 2011

poem by David Harris
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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A Poet's Song

~♥ ♥ ♥ ~

I have read
Works of great men and women
Simple poems and stories
I also have written
This is the song of a poet
The song of my soul

I love poetries
So too are stories
They are simple daisies
Filling my fantasies
This is the song of a poet
The song of my soul

It is my refuge
When in sorrow
My hopes and dreams
In my unknown tomorrow
This is the song of a poet
The song of my soul

I am a poetess
With the dream of sharing
And with my knowledge and skills
Tomorrow, my dreams I will be fulfilling
This is the song of a poet
The song of my soul

I and my works
May never be great
But I will never lose hope
In God, I place my faith
This is the song of a poet
The song of my soul

I will never surrender to failure
I shall never retire until I reach my goal
I will read and write literature
I will hear the cry of my hoping soul
This is the song of a poet
The song of my soul

~♥ ♥ ♥ ~

poem by Belleza Edella Marian SwanCullen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write Poetry

I write not poetry for the poor
for tears from their swelled up eyes
smudge and erase my words,

I write poetry not for the rich
for the splotches from their fat and cheese
hide my lines of wise,

I write poetry for not men to read
for in their skirmishes, poems are trashes
like beans spilled in pond full of slush,

I write poetry for the men not to read
for poems are little words, little music
little cry that the men cant touch or destroy,

poem by Saranyan Bee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Kentucky Is My Land

Kentucky is my land
Kentucky is my hope
Kentucky is my heart
Kentucky is my soul.

Kentucky is my mountains
Kentucky is my Earth
Kentucky is my poems
Kentucky is my birth.

As I walk along the river
I watch in wonder as she flows
Up against my Kentucky land
As my Kentucky wind, gently blows.
So I sit and write of her beauty
I sit and write as I hold her hand
As Kentucky is my happiness
Kentucky, is this man.

Kentucky is my wonders
Kentucky is my dreams
Kentucky is my bluegrass
Kentucky is my trees.

Kentucky is the horses
Kentucky is the lakes
Kentucky is the people
Kentucky, I will never forsake.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like a Freight Train Coming

I am a poet, writer and psalmist,
Thanks to the events of a wedding reception.
Those three titles have been added to my list,
And now I write like my life is almost done.

I receive inspiration from just about anything,
From memories of old and new.
Thoughts of friends and family to me do spring
To mind, and my hand has a lot of work to do.

However, there are times when I am empty,
I can't think of anything to write.
I try so hard, it almost frustrates me
When my poem mill is void, therefore adding to my plight.

But then, there I'll be, not even trying to write,
When all of a sudden, like a frieght train coming,
Like a bolt of lightning, inspiration strikes. So, right
Then and there, I grab my book, and words from me start humming.

A mile a minute, word after word appears,
My pen can barely keep up
With my heart as it bears
The words like wine filling my cup.

poem by Greg Oosterhouse
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write Me

Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.

song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Write And Write And Write And Write

I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE

I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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