Call Me Not A Poet
Call me not A poet
It’s a shame to Shelly and Scott
A disgrace to Wordsworth and Frost
And heart-broken will be Homer and Tagore
Don’t embarrass those all time greats
Now sitting in the Lord’s court
Crooning their best ever cantos
In elegance, ex tempore
But I have an earnest hope
One day, one of those of my idols
Will sure by an accidental glimpse, from heavens
Catch me, standing on this Earth
With my hands stretched out
Trying frantic, to touch at least one star
In the vast poetic yonder
And make an affectionate chortle
Encouraging my puerile endeavor
It’s all! Enough for me to set on
And stretch out my trifle poetic effort
Sathya……
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Related quotes
Almost Poetic
It's almost poetic
The way you speak
It's almost poetic
The way you think
The way you sleep and dream
It's almost poetic
The way I feel for you
It's almost poetic
The way we argue
It's almost poetic
When we say goodbye
Not knowing the next time
We'll see each other
You are the curved line
And I am the dot
That creates the question mark..
And it's almost poetic
If it were not so pathetic.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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Shelly My Love
(1) Shelly my love
I only long to be where you are
Shelly my love
Now and forevermore
Shelly my love
When I see you I catch fire
And soon I'm all aflame
I feel it start
Whenever you call my name
(2) All around I feel a passion
That thrills my very soul
I put it down
To that I love you so
[Repeat (1)]
Oh Shelly my love
[Repeat (2)]
Oh Shelly my love
If this time I'm into somethin'
That is not of this world
The love I've got
It's supernatural, girl
[Repeat (1)]
Shelly, my love
Shelly, my love
Shelly, my love
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lake Poets
You have heard of William Wordsworth he was bard of Cockermouth
And he truly was a great poet if that ever was in doubt
And with Southey and With Coleridge they became known as the lake poets
And they made the Lake District famous and some famous poems they wrote.
Robert Southey was a fine poet he was slave to poetry
And he was for awhile Poet Laureate proves the great poet he must be
And though he is not well known as Coleridge and Wordsworth's is a greater name
He tends to be under rated and deserve a better fame.
And as for Samuel Taylor Coleridge a name verse critics celebrate
His works were born of genius a poetic all time great
The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner his masterpiece and some say
Is even greater than the famous elegy of Gray
And as for himself Will Wordsworth his fame seem to grow and grow
He has fifty times as many readers nowadays as he had one hundred years ago
When one talks of poets and poetry Wordsworth's name can't be left out
A testimony to the greatness of the Bard of Cockermouth.
Coleridge, Southey and Wordsworth geniuses all three
Their names inscribed in glory and poetic history
They lived in the Lake District that beautiful English country side
And due to the fame of these men the Lake District is known World wide.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Spirit Of Poetry!
when a spirit of poetry decent,
it came
In a form of dove
When it came
Jesus became first poet under sun
And Almighty God
Was already, first poet over sun?
Using Poetry in poetic foam
Almighty GOD spoke through poetry
And he is a poet himself
Now his poetry is everywhere, and anywhere
We interact with poets
Words are like soil, are everywhere
Brighter that Sun
His poetic lights lead the way
When he likes
He will come
He will be in poetic foam
To Re-arrange poems
Schedule them in a poetic manner
On a judgment, He will met poets first
And secondly meet
Those who haven't written a poem
To Discuss similes, metaphors and personifications
Future of poetry is in heaven
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Reshma
Of a poetic treat for you and i on this earth,
And being fed with the spoon of love to touch your heart;
But Yahweh has planted a seed in me and,
It will grow and bear fruit.
Life is like that and it moves in many ways like,
To consult Yahweh with Urim and Thumnim;
But sometimes it is like the highway of heroes.
Reshma, my love will touch you like a poetic treat;
And like the school of prophets,
The stone of David is what you need as at now.
Peace to the one who is with love and,
Care to the one who is with hope;
For my mind is around the world to teach many.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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0026 To live in poetry
So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry
as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess
roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue
living in poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Something so ordinary can be poetic
Something like
NO PARKING
Is poetic to me
You are a soul
Lost to this
Town of indifference
And you have
Been roaming
Around in your
Old car of a
Soul and you
Want to rest
And think
And what they
Say is
NO PARKING
That is actually
Poetic
Or shall we say
THIS WAY TO THE RESTROOM
Oh that is really
Poetic signifying
Relief that in this country
There still exists A WAY TO
A way a path a footpath
for someone lost
someone wanting to empty
Himself like a heavy cloud
Wanting to empty
Its accumulating heaviness
Like your urinary bladder
Looking for a restroom and
Oh heavens
This is the way to the rest room
This is the way to the heavens
Where I can just
Have the freedom of pursuing my happiness
Of a simple poetic pee
So this way to the rest room
Is a feeling of relief
It is a feeling of relief and poetry is just like that
You look for a way to unburden yourself
A way to this and that of relieving your
Urinary bladder your poetic urinary bladder
Discharging a discomfort
A heaviness of unwanted liquids
Which you have accumulated
In time
And you hold your thing in the manner that you
Want it held and in the process that you want it done
Without anybody looking
Without anybody saying you this is the proper way to pee
And no other else that can make your pee wholesome
To prescribed rules
And you point it to the big basin of a bowl
You pee
You have just discharged a discomfort
With all the images of
THIS WAY PLEASE TO THE COMFORT ROOM
To your comfort zone
Because you have been in such a discomforting fit
In complete release
You feel relief
And that to me is very poetic
THIS WAY TO THE COMFORT ROOM PLEASE
when all you want in life is to pee
On that instance
that moment is the best poetry
To the lines and verses of a person
simply peeing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Good Lord Watches Over Poets And Fools
The good Lord watches over poets and fools
Not exactly one of life’s little rules
Now which one do I happen to be?
Give me a minute and you shall see
I know it’s not cool
To be called a fool
Although I consider myself a poet
There are many who don’t know it
You might consider me a foolish poet
I know this poem is silly but I wrote it
I’m having fun with this little rhyme
Although some may say I’m wasting my time
My poetic license seems to have expired
Cause this isn’t exactly what I desired
But playing with words is such great fun
And knowing they’ll often touch someone
I sleep Poetry
Last night I wrestled with poetry
As if a lion wrestling with its prey
I sleep poetry
I dream poetry
I walk poetry on thin line ropes
binding together steeply slopes
I make love to poetry like a new catch
On heat waiting to be let loose from its latch
So out of ten if I am bad, take a pen
And give me a score of five or a four
I constantly make love to poetry
With dramatic grammatical metaphors
The root of my poetic hunger
Is I starve myself a bit longer
In sleep I twiddle my poetic lines
Sharpen them to be as fine as a riddle
I sleep poetry
I drink poetry
Not just to quench my thirst
But to differentiate amongst
Good, Better and Best
There shall come the day
I have to say
When I will definitely call it a truce
When I have run out of poetic juice
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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My Moments
MY MOMENTS
AS Moon I enjoyed my moments
In spite of my waning fortnights
When Romeo blamed my light
As bellowing his desperate romantic ember
I smiled at his love-sick plight
When Omar Khayyam did plaudit
That I heartened his poetic craft
I did inflect a wholehearted lilt
When a sneaky burglar cursed that
My fully waxed nights played a spoil sport
Always, on his professional pursuits
I laughed aloud with a glistering taunt
But what I saw tonight
Depressed my spirits, beyond thought
Here is a beggar in the street
Running without food, his third night
Bleary eyed; half-swooned and
Sinking further into a blissful faint
Pushed his feeble hands aloft
To catch me! Thinking that
I am a well-roasted ‘roti’ to eat
I wept, wept and wept my heart out!
And left in shame the night abrupt
To hide behind the cloud curtains! !
Sathya……..
poem by Sathya Narayana
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I Do Not Feel Very Poetic Today
I do not feel very poetic today-
And now I make that feeling the ‘subject’ of a poem-
Once Poetry seemed to be confined
To certain more sublime subjects -
But in our time
When every Form seems to expand to take into itself its opposite
Poetry makes itself of the non- poetic also -
There is no subject apparently
Which is non- poetic
Once a poem is written about it-
I do not feel very poetic today
And these plain and unbeautiful lines
This awkward presentation
Is what I am capable of
Poem or not,
I have written it now.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Is Poetic And Prophetic
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'I see the holes in shoes.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Those shoes have not been used.
Since many are afraid of walking.
But talk about nonsense,
They choose to do.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
It could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Lips flap flip flop so much.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'Flipping lips lick ears to touch,
With venom spiced and nothing nice to say...
Yet quick to pick from empty pockets.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
'Woe goes the mogul to spend from thieving.
Wishing to steal more.
To take and not to give.
Or...
Sympathize with those begging.'
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
'I see the holes in shoes.'
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
It is poetic and prophetic,
With some tongue in cheek stuff.
And...
This could be interpreted,
As comments from a cynic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poet Recondite
With one stroke he can make
With one knock he can break
With one spill of his ink
He can wake the world up
But flying is his mind in the skies
At the bays of the heaven fictional
Unmindful of his legs in the earth
So well rooted one foot up to knees
He’s a poet recondite unmindful
Of his social duties
What a waste is talent that serves not
Populace that is grinding in grief
My advice to fellow poet greats
You better ask your pen what it prefers
Its purpose; if I’m right
It tells straight,
To invest on this earth its finest letter wealth
But it sulks, if at all
Better break its nib-neck
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Blown With The Wind
You have taken my heart in your hands...
At first you were very gentle with it
But now you have left me with absolutely nothing
Nothing but a broken heart and shattered promises
Every commit you made had been broken
The wind is my sole witness...
For they carry with them all your lies and false dreams
Now I don't know if I could ever trust you again
For so long I waited and kept you in my heart
I never thought you would do anything to cause me hurt
I thought you loved me, at least that's what you claimed.
Then why am I sitting here all by myself?
And why am I having to put the broken pieces back?
Now you tell me if you want another chance...
How can I trust you again, to be true and sincere
You took me in once, twice, thrice, but let me go...
We were in love at least that's what it seemed
If that is what you think love is then, I don't want it!
Yes I loved you, I still do and I always will
But your love isn't unconditional like mine
You seem to fall in and out of love easy, at least you did with me.
So how do I know if you will carry my heart
Like it is fine china that you cherish?
You did really good at breaking my heart the first time
Then the second, then the third...I lost count
I've yet to collect pieces bit by bit
Can you put the memories back to make me complete?
*This is a narrative poem better off said than written, I wanted to convey its message, wanted it flow freely without minding the technical aspects...that's what we called, expression.
However, I experimented on rephrasing the poem with a more poetic touch. See it for yourself on the poem 'Swept'
poem by Cynthia Aluning
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Shelly Meets Majesty Mermaid
Kavasutra Kava Bar is the only Kava bar
where you can play fun games,
Kavasutra has a mascot which is a coconut
and Shelly is her name.
Since Shelly befriended Majesty mermaid,
Shelly’s life has never been the same,
Majesty and her play hide and seek games.
Majesty mermaid can swim really fast,
Shelly tries to catch up with her and
swims into a seaweed patch,
Shelly gets stuck and laughs and laughs.
Majesty now has to use her tail to unknot
the seaweed that makes Shelly the shell caught.
Luckily Majesty gets Shelly untied,
they go to Kavusutra Kava Bar to unwind.
Sitting by a window at high noon,
they drink a cool Kava drink so smooth.
More adventures with Shelly and baby Majesty,
color in their picture and give it to mommy.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on January 13,2011
www.suechevalier.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Shelly Meets Opal Octopus
Shelly notices eight legs sticking out of the sand,
she goes over and gives Opal octopus a hand.
Opal was washed up close to shore,
Shelly introduces herself and hands her an ore.
Opal says “Hi, and starts to smile, ”
they start to laugh and chat for awhile.
Opal says she is friends with Majesty and Sarah Star,
Shelly replies “I swam with them on Tuesday
to the Lantana bridge which is not far.”
Opal replies back, “That sounds like you all had a fun day,
I will have to find them and bring them back your way”.
Then Opal jumps back with her eight legs into the sea,
she waves to Shelly and yells “Thank You Shelly,
I will say Hi for you to Sarah Star and Majesty.”
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Edge Of A Broken Heart
And there I stood, just like a soldier
I was tough, until I saw her
I said hello, but she just turned away
Hey romeo, whatcha doin with my girl,
Who are you using now, well I turn and walk away (turn and walk away)
Im gonna please her, now you can believe it
Ill be there to catch her when she falls
Oooo, here I am (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im a man (on the edge of a broken heart)
Here we stand (on the edge of a broken heart)
So run if you can cause you know
Im a man on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the outside, looking inside
Youre with him, whos on the wrong side now
Do you still think of me
Ive tried to call, but no one answers
Two silhouettes, a private dancer
Lights go dim, as the music starts to fade, away (turn and walk away)
Im the one who needs you, now you can believe it
Ill be there to catch you when you fall
Ooo you better believe Im the man (on the edge of a broken heart)
Here I am (on the edge of a broken heart)
And we stand (on the edge of a broken heart)
So run if you can cause you know
Im a man on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Solo
Ooohh
And when I hold out my hands Ill be reaching for you
I give it all that Ive got, thats all I can do
When youre waiting for love
Ill be waiting for you (on the edge of a broken heart)
Only for you (on the edge of a broken heart)
Oh baby for you (on the edge of a broken heart)
So run if you can, you know
Im a man on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (on the edge of a broken heart)
Im on the edge (of a broken, broken, broken broken, broken, broken, broken)
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What They Write About
what they write about
are so poetic, and sometimes i feel
envious, and think all nights to also
write everything poetic like the way
they write about the moon, and stars,
and sun and clouds and hills and
valleys and blooming flowers
about summer,
but honestly speaking, i think every
poetic imagery has only become too
routinary, all metaphors conceived of,
are nothing but simply variations adopted
from one poet to another like an
uncaught plagiarist on the loose,
but somehow, i also like it when i think
that writing is just a hobby, a diversion,
if not a deviation from what
we really want to become.
well, i may be a sour grape for
staying just to be myself,
an imaginary toad in the real
garden untended by its owner.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shelly Meets Opal Octopus
Shelly notices eight legs sticking out of the sand,
she goes over and gives Opal octopus a hand.
Opal was washed up close to shore,
Shelly introduces herself and hands her an ore.
Opal says “Hi, and starts to smile, ”
they start to laugh and chat for awhile.
Opal says she is friends with Majesty and Sarah Star,
Shelly replies “I swam with them on Tuesday
to the Lantana bridge which is not far.”
Opal replies back, “That sounds like you all had a fun day,
I will have to find them and bring them back your way”.
Then Opal jumps back with her eight legs into the sea,
she waves to Shelly and yells “Thank You Shelly,
I will say Hi for you to Sarah Star and Majesty.”
Written By Suzae Chevalier on January 13,2011
www.christinapoems.com www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Amazing Joyce
On such rare and marvellous talent how can one put a price
She surely is amazing the one and only Joyce
She has tried every form of poetry one must say with success
And to lovers of poetry Worldwide she brings great happiness.
The marvellous Joyce Hemsley a poetic legend of our time
The internet queen of haiku and senryu and the internet queen of rhyme
Six thousand poems to her name she just goes on and on
One cannot say about her that her better days are gone.
In every one of her poems one can detect her poetic voice
The poet for all Seasons is the amazing Joyce
What can be said about her that has not been said before
Six thousand poems to her name and from her expect many more.
She waves the literary banner for England a true poetic great
The amazing poet from Sunderland we ought to celebrate
A legendary online poet by example she leads the way
And surely a great mentor to all young poets of today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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