Poet/bum
There's a thin line between the poet and the bum,
Usually both are broke,
In boxing circles, there's the bum of the month,
And like the poet, considered a joke.
For instance, a poet has to fight for respect,
Like any boxer risking his neck,
The poet fights with words he understands,
The boxer fights with his hands.
Neither fighter can afford to be afraid,
Taking a hit from a move delayed,
Clobbered by critics, or clobbered in the ring,
Can sting.
As remote as it may sound,
They both have to survive the round,
Neither wants to remain the tramp,
Both would choose to be the champ.
They exist on a parallel track,
With no time to look back,
They touch gloves with Heaven and Hell,
In an endless fight till the final bell.
poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
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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Ramble
Ramble is a boxer and he is fighting in the ring with Mad dog
who ever win the boxing fight will take home $ 76,000.00 dollars
And it would be nice for Ramble but not Mad dog because Mad dog is already a boxing champion and he already won 20 boxing fights
But his boss is trying hard to push him to win this fight and Mad dog is A Jamaican guy and Ramble is a American guy
But on the first, second and third round of the boxin g fight Ramble knocked down Mad dog and Ramble by now was winnin the fight and Mad dog kept trying hard to knock Ramble down but mad dog got up And knocked Ramble down and than Ramble knocked down Mad dog on the Fourth round, fifth round, and the six round and Mad dog Won his first Boxing fight at the Mapple Leaf Gardens here in Toronto
And he got the $76,000.00 dollars to take home
But he got congratulated by his wife and his kids
Also the good news is that now they can pay their debts of and Eventualy buy a house to live in
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Poet is free
Poet is free
No grammarian can guide the poet
Do not tell before a poet you are dare
And I know there are so many grammarians
With so many grammars
The poet is one with truth with love
All the grammars old middle modern
Are of no use for a poet
At the time of poet's thought
Poet's love poet's poetry
Nobody can search research poet's history
Nobody can dare to described poet
Poet can create his own language
His own grammar and it does not bother the poet
Whether you like it or not
Leave the poet on his own way
It is better you to read him love him
If you are alive.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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This Poet Is Always Beside You
You are reading my poem but,
This poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
I am on your lips and,
I am in your mouth;
I am in your heart and,
I am in your mind;
Because, this poet is always beisde you.
This poet writes and others read,
This poet speaks and others listen,
And this poet is always beside you;
But, this poet is never known.
The works of this poet are on the internet,
And, they are being read by many! !
But, this poet is never known;
However, this poet is always beside you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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
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The final bell rings
The crowd were going crazy
as the two boxers entered the ring
the best fighters in there division
one would be the new boxing king.
The bell rang for the start of the fight
the arena was now at fever pitch
one of these pugilists would be a victor
and become wealthy and stinking rich.
The punches from them both were hard
this was a fight that was brutal and tough
these fighters really meant business
and the rounds were mean and rough.
There was nothing between them both
as the fight went to it's final round
when suddenly one of them collapsed
from being noisy you couldn't hear a sound.
The medics rushed into the blood stained ring
as the boxer lay motionless and deathly White
the referee raised the arm of the new champion
and he was announced as the winner of the fight.
But sadly the loser never ever came round
he died in the hospital that very same night
this brave and courageous warrior lost his life
sadly never again to step into a ring to fight.
poem by Kevin Halls
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A Boxers Dream (or was it?)
He'd retired from the Boxing ring
but was bored with daily life
he not only liked to hit the bottle
but also his long suffering wife.
Then one day she up and went
which made him drink even more
I may as well be dead he thought
as he lay in a drunken stupor on the floor.
But when he finally sobered up
a gentle voice whispered into his ear,
'You'll be a champion again my son
but first give up drinking Whisky and Beer.'
The Boxer thought he was going insane
maybe the cause of one too many fights?
but the voice kept on returning
throughout the days and the nights.
But slowly he did give up the boozing
and never set foot inside his local pub
he started working out in the Gym
then went back to his old Boxing Club.
His trainer really worked him hard
then after a few months told him he was ready
so he stepped back into the ring again
but decided to take it nice and steady.
But he won that first fight in style
winning with a Fifth round knockout
the boxer felt good and alive once more
and went on to win bout after bout.
He did finally become a Champion again
as proudly in the centre of the ring he stood
then the referee whispered gently into his ear:
'See my son I told you that you would! '
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Poet
The poet can only utter the word fine
The poet has to bear the sorrow and the sin.
The poet can only say I am happy
The poet can only say I feel no aches no pain
The poet can only say I am not in loss
The poet can only say I am in the side of only gain.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Poet vs Poem
Does a poet makes poem
Or poem makes poet?
The eternal war goes on.
The big confusion who will solve it?
Poet fight with sword of pen.
Poem armoured with shield of senses.
Poet tries to rich sky high,
Poem pulls rope of meaning and tenses.
Does poet sketc the poem
Or poem drags him through the invigible gravity.
A piece of paper becomes battlefield.
The war of ink and vocabulary,
Creates a historic beauty.
Poet cages the poem in a book.
Where the world will look.
Praises all to poet 'oh how great'
But the poem is what counts after his death.
poem by Saurav Karki
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Puzzle
Do not bury the poet
The poet bury himself.
The poet is his soul
It is seen ti poet only.
The poet see the time
And time see the poet.
Ask not the poet repeat
Another sun flash light
And you puzzled.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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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Fighter! ! !
they call me Angry Poet
I say, yes, and do a poem!
They said i am Ugly Poet
ok, i do my hair and turn my back
Maybe a stupid way
to lay my words?
Yes, i said, changed style
so many times...
Said i am unprepared, not education
But i am polite and love poets and poetry!
It is not enough, they continuous saying
Talk about men, about secrets?
Sex and misfits?
Yes, i say, so
Do you want to fight?
Better dont!
I am a Fighter!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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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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~ Checkmate ~
I sweat
To be a poet
Please wait
I’ll be a poet.
Please wait
Till a date
I’ll be a poet.
Finally of late
Confessing straight
Puzzled by words
I’m checkmate.
For sure I bet
I can’t be a poet! !
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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Poet
POET
He is a poet
When his thoughts survey
What distressed millions flay
He is a poet
When his works slay
Every social evil sway
He is a poet
When his words relay
What virtuous people say
He is a poet
When his expressions lay
Portraits on brains’ gray
Sathya….
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The Poets
an old woman poet,
stood behind the table,
doling out plate after plate,
to the line of faces...
taking the time...
to ask each their name.
a young student poet,
jerked from the picket line,
beaten, and arrested...
now sits in jail.
the young man poet,
just home after a 12 hour shift,
went next door and mowed
his elderly neighbor's grass.
a young girl poet,
took in the stray cat,
fed it, and held it...
and rocked it to sleep.
the poor poet,
makes a pallot on the floor
of his empty room,
for the homeless to sleep on.
the old man poet,
goes to work again,
minimum wage with a smile,
to feed his sick wife...
the common poet,
build houses, works on machines,
tills gardens, works on cars...
treats everyone the same...
and no one knows his name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Goodbye Poet! ! ! !
Very sad when a Poet close your book
leave his pen and left us
So we say: There goes, Aphrodite, Apollo, Hades
find your ethereal Muse and make peaces with God
Because
The Poet goes different
He goes taking all of us with him
He goes but leaving your scrolls, hymns
His Ilíadas, Odisseias
For ever and Never
Because
The Poet let us different
He dare to be absent without a motive
confront dead and write the more beautiful Poem
Poet's heart now beats alone!
So go Poet
Go, because you are different
poem by Mirna Morgan
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People Leave The Poet Alone
Hello people
Can you please leave the poet alone?
Can you treat the poet with respect?
Because the poet will treat you with respect also
And that is not a joke
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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