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Poor Poet

'A man should write to please himself,'
He proudly said.
Well, see his poems on the shelf,
Dusty, unread.

When he came to my shop each day,
So peaked and cold,
I'd sneak one of his books away
And say 'twas sold.

And then by chance he looked below,
And saw a stack
Of his own work,--speechless with woe
He came not back.

I hate to think he took to drink,
And passed away;
I have not heard of him a word
Unto this day.

A man must write to please himself,
Of all it's true;
But happy they who spurning pelf--
Please people too.

poem by Robert William Service
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I don't write poems

I don't write poems,
I drink them like wine,
I become tipsy
with each coming line.

I don't write poems,
I breathe them like air,
I become so happy
when each one I share.

I don't write poems,
I live with them;
they prolong my years,
they are as true as I am.

I don't write poems,
I weave into verses
sadness, joy, tears,
prayers, love, curses…

My poems talk and sing,
Sense of living they bring.

©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
26th of April,2012

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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I don't

Many people write
For their true emotions to unravel
Out of depression, angst, spite
But I can’t
I don’t write poems when I’m sad

They write from their experiences
When he left me
When they died
Bringing tears, causing cries
But I can’t
I don’t write when I’m sad

The tears dutifully stain my cheek
And roll on and on
Through and through
Down
Down
Down
But I can’t
And I don’t write poems when I’m sad

And all the anger and sadness
Thrust inside of me
Just bursting to get out
Screaming
Pleading
Begging to get out
But they can’t
Because I don’t write poems when I’m sad

And I don’t know what to do
How to express my pain
And woe, and the feeling
It drains me, and it shows
But there’s nothing I can do
Because I don’t ever write poetry when I’m sad

poem by Amy
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Poems About.

There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.

poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Good to write poems

I want everyone in theworld
To write poems
Poems is the best to happy writing
Anger sad and pain
Which you write it in poems
Heal faster and better
Than any medicine in theworld
Because I know I write
In anger sad pain and much joy
Romance exotic and love
Society reality and life
Religion GOD and fantasia
I write what I feel and heard
Peaceful within, no more hurt or sad
Anger all to happiness and
Forgiveness you find
Solution you get
The joy the fulfillment
The happy feeling and heal
I can’t felt it until each poem I write

poem by See Fee Lee
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem

All I can do now is write another poem-

The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-

Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-

A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-

Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-

But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-

I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-

All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-

Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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The time I discovered myself a Poet

I wouldnt say I was patient
but I have an interest in poetry
Is it the dawning of a new error
or will the sky be grey
I write how I see life and it is not always pleasant

I like to write abou experiences that I have been through
my poetry has changed as I ave changed
I see it as a hobby as I write in my grange
My poetry is mainly fiction but I also write about things that are true

I am not a person that would share alot of enthusiasim
poetry is a work of art
on each sheet of blank paper
I put my mark
Poetry is simple in this world of sin

I am not into shakesphere
what I write is authentic
the imagination on paper creates magic
a poem can change an atmosphere

I would like to say my poems mean something
my poems are meant to sting a mind
I want my poems to create pictures for people who are blind

poem by Natasha Browne
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The afterthought

The afterthought
~
The poetry section in the library, an afterthought
A little over fifteen books thrown onto a shelf
Amongst books of quotations and how to write
Books about books and sporting anecdotes
It seems poetry here is consigned to obscurity
A disappointing assessment of literature
A few of the named greats, a few anthologies
The favourite love poems, poems on war
A three quarter shelf collection if at all
Perhaps it’s a sign of the times changing
Modern life being unable to relate anymore
To the notions and thoughts of poetic lore
The pace picked up so long ago
The gentle stroll now a sprinting run
No more stopping to smell the air
The need to be someplace doing something
Everything else consigned to the shelf
Like a mirror reflecting the new world
The poetry of life has become an afterthought

poem by Matthew Holloway
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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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Notes From The Night

Rilke once said
if he spent all of his life
studying and working
he hoped to
be able to write
four good lines of poetry

think i'll quit writing
grow a big garden,
cut and stack wood
for all who are cold
save as many stray dogs
as i can
spend a lot of time
playing with and listening to
small children
and sit with as many
old people left alone
to die as i can

read Rilke daily,
and drink a lot of
black coffee
and hope like hell
that just before i die
i can write one good line
of poetry
i'd be happy with that!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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I write and write/ And little poems come

I WRITE AND WRITE

I write and write
And little poems come -
I am happy with my life
I write and write.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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It's Not Easy Being The Love Poet

'The Love Poet' that's what they call me
I admit it's flattering being the one and only
Other poets write love poems I will concede
But none with the emotion of mine, none indeed

But being the love poet has it's price
Everyone expects my work to be happy, be nice
If I ever feel lousy I can't write it down
Because reading it might cause the audience to frown

I'm not always Happy Harry I will admit
Every now and the, I really feel like shit
Depression a remnant of the life I left behind
Has found me again and has it's grip on my mind

But sad or not, I've a reputation to uphold
I write poetry that's warm and not cold
Push depression aside begin a new love poem
2nd draft I write on my way home

Every now and then, I will read a sad one
Which leads to another, what have I begun?
I want to make people smile not cry
And here I am reading qbout how I want to die

Even love poets have their bad days
Finding out today was the end of always
Without her, love poems just don't seem right
Neighbors hear you crying, long into the night

poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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So Many People Have No Poem

SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE NO POEM

So many people have no poem.
No one writes of them and for them,
And perhaps it is not important to most of them.

But for the few who need and want a poem
And cannot write a poem of their own
Shouldn’t there be someone to write for them?

I have tried to write for a few
But not that well either.

Who will write for them?
Who will listen for them?

God Maker of all Poems and Silences,
You Alone can save us,
The makers of poems
And those who are only listeners.

God You Alone-Write their names for them.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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I love to hate

I love the way you do your hair I love the way you smile
I love the way you make me laugh every moment worthwhile

I love the way you write your poems every word straight from the heart
I love the way you do everything I just loved to love you from the start

I hate to see you angry and I hate to see you sad
I hate to see you cry and I hate to see you mad

I hate it when you say his name I hate how perfect he was
Im probably just over jealous wanting to be the one you love

But now I hate the way I love you I cant stand the pain
With all this hurt and suffering its really hard to stay sane

I know we cant be together I guess its just my fate
I loved every thing about you and now everything I loved I hate

I hate the way you do your hair I hate the way you smile
I cant stand the way you make me laugh every moment bitter and vile

I hate the way you write your poems every word stabs through my heart
I hate the way you do everything I hate that I loved you from the start

But I still hate to see you angry I still hate to see you sad
I still hate to see you cry and I still hate to see you mad

I still hate hearing his name and how perfect he was
Im still just over jealous wanting to be the one you love

If I could heal the broken cracks and mend I broken heart
I wouldn’t change anything I'd love you over from the start

And if I could turn back time and ask for one last wish
I would only want from you the warmth of one last kiss

poem by Dakota Erickson
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Soap

you wish i were true
to every word i wrote in my poems
like sadness
that i must be sad when my poems
talk about sadness

like separation and disgust and pain
that i must suffer
with the poems i write that i must have despair
and pain too
and disgust
for every word of disgust written in every word
in every line

how cruel of you
how cruel of truth
how can i justify my death when i speak only of death
and in the very poem
where i write the word
death

there is soap
there is this box of untruths in pandora and when i open it
they must spread and you may refuse to believe
me again

but it would be very cruel of you
to make these poems
all these poems be my life my only life
and lived
and day by day lived in accordance with the
mouths of these poems

empathy
is the word, it is like i am putting my feet in another person's
shoes

then i write, and i could have written about this word: happiness
joy, bliss
ecstasy, light, and amazing glory

i choose not to,
i think, i have too much of it, and i do not share it for now
there is no necessity
and i cannot really help

with so much loneliness and sadness out there
with them i stretch my hands to hold them and feel them
and they all become

myself. it is not soap then, and there are no bubbles in the skies
there is no child playing amazed by the bubbles that burst and by the
bubbles that

are so abundant.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Only Poem at the End of the Universe

The only poem at the end of the universe
That will be heard is God’s Poem.

Why then write and write
What will in the end be forever unheard?

We are here now
And we write poems now
Because writing poems
Is what we can do.

Beyond this
‘The lone and level sands stretch far away’.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wrote My Last Romantic Love Poem A Long Time Ago

I wrote my last romantic love poem a long time ago-
Now I write quieter poems
Poems of the pleasure of the old-
A walk in the morning
A sudden turn of sunlight on a cold cold day
A small kindness I may do
Or someone may do for me
Poems of love for my family
And of sadness at the sickness of my friends
Quiet poems
That do not know the wildness of passion
The bitterness of love disappointed
The up and down motions
Of when she does and when she doesn’t
And all her yeses and nos-
I write quiet poems
And I live happily in them
And I sometimes think with sadness
Of the great passion there was once-
But I am old now
And happy and quiet in small things
Grandchildren, among the best of them.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Did Your Love For Him Last?

i am just wondering why you do not
write poetry anymore. I am asking myself
if your having jumped over the fence
yielded the bliss on the other side of things.

Are you too happy to forget the sad refrains
of poetry?
or Are you too sad
mourning over another
love lost
that your hands are too weary
to write another love poem for this
valentine's day?

whatever happened, please write me a love poem
sad or happy, please do write me one

i just want to know what a love poem should be all about
after all those years
when we think we really found the true one.

write me, please a love poem, show me the color
and scent of each word, show me the texture of each line,
show me whether the heart is bleeding
or leaping with joy like the one we used to write before together

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Legacy Of Love

Before the day my parents met
And love was found within
And their romance was firmly set
So they would not give in,
The Lord knew I was soon to be,
His heritage of love,
The firstborn of the ones born free,
Each granted grace enough...

Before the day I went to school,
Eleven years to learn,
I knew that life was kind and cruel,
Their lessons to discern...
I faced exams like others did,
With mixed results I passed...
So what? For I was just a kid,
Till I left school at last...

Before the day I went to work,
To earn a daily crust,
Here was the chance I could not shirk,
The chance to prove their trust...
So years passed by, with small reward,
A pittance, nothing more,
Until the day I found the Lord
Who showed what life was for...

Before my life had run its course,
I preached the Word for years,
About God's Prophets and God's Laws
To open hearts and ears...
But nothing moves me quite as much
As this one certainty,
God grants to me His loving touch
When people pray for me...

Before I leave this world behind,
Its destiny to face,
I thank those people who were kind
My problems to embrace...
They gave me strength to help me cope,
They prayed by day and night...
To these I leave the words of hope
I write and write and write...

poem by Denis Martindale
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My Poems Came Back To Me / As Rhythms Without Sounds

My poems came back to me
as rhythms without sounds
Imitations of anothers music
Falling down and down
Like winter snow
To whitening ground-

My poems came back to me
As distant whispers of other destinies
Flights from deeper spaces
Mankind has not yet surmised
They were somewhere in the distance of distance
Beyond all distance
In the mystical language
Only Wisdom heard
Though it had no words of its own-

Only ‘now’ and ‘more’ and ‘dreams of another century’
And I, I with all these confusing words
Wondering if my friend would ever be sane again
And why God does it this way
While I in my writing play and play again
Bringing my own rhythms back
And making poetry my own small happy game
Which I write and I write
Without memory.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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