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
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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A Poet To His Baby Son
Tiny bit of humanity,
Blessed with your mother’s face,
And cursed with your father’s mind.
I say cursed with your father’s mind,
Because you can lie so long and so quietly on your back,
Playing with the dimpled big toe of your left foot,
And looking away,
Through the ceiling of the room, and beyond.
Can it be that already you are thinking of being a poet?
Why don’t you kick and howl,
And make the neighbors talk about
“That damned baby next door,”
And make up your mind forthwith
To grow up and be a banker
Or a politician or some other sort of go-getter
Or—?—whatever you decide upon,
Rid yourself of these incipient thoughts
About being a poet.
For poets no longer are makers of songs,
Chanters of the gold and purple harvest,
Sayers of the glories of earth and sky,
Of the sweet pain of love
And the keen joy of living;
No longer dreamers of the essential dreams,
And interpreters of the eternal truth,
Through the eternal beauty.
Poets these days are unfortunate fellows.
Baffled in trying to say old things in a new way
Or new things in an old language,
They talk abracadabra
In an unknown tongue,
Each one fashioning for himself
A wordy world of shadow problems,
And as a self-imagined Atlas,
Struggling under it with puny legs and arms,
Groaning out incoherent complaints at his load.
My son, this is no time nor place for a poet;
Grow up and join the big, busy crowd
That scrambles for what it thinks it wants
Out of this old world which is—as it is—
And, probably, always will be.
Take the advice of a father who knows:
You cannot begin too young
Not to be a poet.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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The tree and the grass
I feel high thinking that I am held high.
I stay high refusing to be held low
I am shy doing anything so low.
Let me stand like a tree to break in storm.
I feel low unmindful of others’ frowns.
I stay low unmindful of others’ applause.
I am shy doing anything bogus.
Let me stand like grass to bow to the breeze.
09.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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
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The Mind Of A Poet
If horses could fly,
I could have been the first person in heaven;
But, here i am today as a bard.
If roses could smile,
I could have love all the woman in the world;
But, here i am today as a teacher.
If donkeys could teach,
I could have been the first Professor on earth;
But, here i am today with my mind.
All that muses teaches the world,
All that is lively makes me glad;
This is the mind of a poet unknown.
I am sitting next to you and,
I am seeing what you do;
Like the love of poetry.
I am the eye to many,
I am the mind of many,
The love of a muse is what i bring to you;
This is the mind of a poet unknown.
The love of poetry,
The love of a muse;
The mind of a poet to the world so sweet!
If horses could fly,
I could have been the first person in heaven.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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An Ode To The Poet Friends
Note: Please, read this poem only after reading
PLAYING A HOST FOR YOU
submitted by me prior to this. The old GUESTS please, go ahead.
.....................................
O poet friends from lands far and near,
I thank you all for having been to my small abode
For an evening`s chat and for smiling at one another.
You have all left for once; not for ever.
You are all gifted with Apollo`s fertile mind and I swear
You are laden with thoughts never ever on the same line made
As your lands and concerns are there much diverse with one another.
Your wet pens now write more often than ever.
O poet friends, read what is writ large on this world`s forehead
And speak out to your friends what we all ought to do now
To save ourselves from the discomfort of alienation of ourselves
And whisper into the skies your dreams cherished.
Each day you awake a little earlier to see the sun surging
And before the stars spill around to twinkle never say, 'good night'.
Each poem you write must flow like a rivulet quiet
Though the floods and the ebbs may still ring within it.
Near my abode I shall plant a tree of a high breed root
And grow on it fruits like your own ones delicious and sweet.
I shall play on its branches often and still will break none!
And in your great castles its orchards will be once grown.
O poet friends, blow your horns unto the heights and depths
And let the waves thereof transcend our dwarfed earth
Into a Jupiter of cheers, hope and right fauna and flora.
I beseech you all to tune your music that will ever be heard!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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The Poet Finds....
The poet finds whatever the moon could not see,
The poet finds whatever the earth does not know,
The poet finds whatever the sun could not see,
The poet finds whatever others do not know,
The poet finds whatever the stars could not see,
So why do the heathen rage and the people plot vanity? !
For she who is pregnant is closer to us,
And the hart pants after streams of water.
Your tears have been your food night and day,
And like your inner self in the lan dof your muse;
But the poet finds whatever the sun could not see.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Poet, O Poet
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Your imagination is our wealth
Your imagination is our health
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Create things on your own
In your own world my dear poet
That is not known and that is owned.
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
We have no control over anything
We have no control over the land
That is dreamy.
It is only you O poet
Who can control us from that land
Where nothing to be shame
Where no body is there to blame
Where there is only fame and fame.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Poem Is The Poet
THE POEM IS THE POET
The poem is the poet
It tells his story even when he does not intend it to-
It bears his signature even when he forges it-
The poem is the poet-
It reflects his mind his soul-
It cannot be written without what he is
Though he denies what he is to himself-
The poem is the poet
And the poet's contradictions-
It is the mask of his self - expression
And his ultimate definition in words-
When he writes he becomes himself
And when he finishes it
He leaves a part of himself in it for as long as it exists.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Seraph and Poet
THE seraph sings before the manifest
God-One, and in the burning of the Seven,
And with the full life of consummate
Heaving beneath him like a mother's
Warm with her first-born's slumber in that
The poet sings upon the earth grave-riven,
Before the naughty world, soon self-forgiven
For wronging him,--and in the darkness prest
From his own soul by worldly weights.
Even so,
Sing, seraph with the glory ! heaven is high;
Sing, poet with the sorrow ! earth is low:
The universe's inward voices cry
' Amen ' to either song of joy and woe:
Sing, seraph,--poet,--sing on equally !
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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All poetry has to do is to make a strong communication. All the poet has to do is listen. The poet is not an important fellow. There will also be another poet.
quote by Stevie Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man o War
Why u screaming?
U know Im not a man of war
Break the gold chain that I gave u
Throw it down on the floor
Instead of this 7 page letter
I wish I had piece of mind
My friends tell me: u should go get her
But loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time
Oh yes it is, a waste of time - ooh
I need 2 get out of this city
I need 2 get u out of my head
I need 2 get away from the words that u said 2 me
Why u screaming? (ooh)
U know Im not a man of war
How could u think that i
Could put something inside of someone
That I put inside u, inside u?
Even if I tried 2 (tried 2), tried 2 (tried 2)
I couldnt cuz I still smell like the last time that we ...
Loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time (a waste of time)
Oh, yes it is
Loving u - a waste of time (ooh-oh)
I need 2 feel wanted again
I need 2 feel love is alive, yeah
I need 2 hear u say
That u aint looking 4 another reason 2 make me cry
Why u screaming? (ooh)
U know Im not a man of war
Ive been trying 2 make u happy, baby
Ever since we were sophomores
(but loving u, loving u, loving u)
Is a waste of time, oh yes it is
Oh, is a waste of time, waste of time, waste of time...
If theres no future
Then there is no past
And all weve got is right now
Lets make it last
Make it last, make it last (ooh)
Why u screaming?
U know Im not a man of war
Break the gold chain (break the gold chain that I gave u)
Throw it down on the floor - oh baby
Instead of this 7 page letter
I wish I had piece of mind
(my friends tell me: u should go get her)
Tell me: u should go get her
(but loving u) loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time (a waste of time)
Oh, a waste of time - oh yeah
I need 2 get out of this city
I need 2 get u out of my head
I need 2...
I need 2 get away from the words that u said 2 me
I need 2... [...]
I need 2 feel wanted again
Oh, I need 2 hear no sin
Hear me...
(but loving u, loving u, loving u)
Why u screaming?
U know Im not a man of war
Break the gold chain that I gave u
Throw it down on the floor - oh baby
Instead of this 7 page letter
I wish I had piece of mind
My friends tell me: u should go get her
But loving u, loving u, loving u
Is a waste of time
U know Im not a man of war
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here On Earth …, There In Heaven…
Here on earth imperfection, there in heaven perfection
Here on earth discontent, there in heaven content
Here on earth disgrace, there in heaven grace
Here on earth disease, there in heaven ease
Here on earth hatred, there in heaven love
Here on earth war, there in heaven peace
Here on earth decay, there in heaven freshness
Here on earth selfish, there in heaven selfless
Here on earth oppression, there in heaven liberty
Here on earth agonize, there in heaven relax
It’s either on earth, or in heaven
The decision, all yours
poem by Obed Akuma
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Greed
Over the hills they came from the valley
Making innuendoes about my lack of talent, oh well...
They say that when Im supposed to be singing
All I m really doing is yelling, oh well...
To you I say ....
Break out or get out
Then they say that I cant sing
That I dont say a thing
That I make everything up...oh well
To you I say...
Break out or get out
Break out or get out
Get out of your mind
Cause its much too small
And theres so much going on
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Lasting Peace on Earth
The peace that’s found on earth lasts not for long,
As leaders break their promises often;
The peace that wars bring serves to just prolong
The rivalries, when differences soften.
Man needs the peace of mind, of heart and soul,
Apart from peace surrounding his earth’s space;
Progress in fields occurs when peace is goal,
And keeps the health and wealth of human race.
The peace that wars unleash is quite futile;
The peace that dialogues bring, much better;
The peace that world bodies give is fragile;
The Maker is the final peace-setter!
The peace that man bestows on earth is short;
The peace that God ushers, none can abort!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-9-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Break It Up
Where in the world, where in the world,
Where in the world did I get this hurt?
I dont mind, yeah I dont mind.
If you call me bad, call me wrong,
Call me anything but your own.
I dont mind, yeah I dont mind.
I dont care if you leave me.
I dont care if you go away.
I dont care if you wanted this.
I dont mind.
Break it up, break it up, break it up, break it up my love.
If you think that you cant stay with me break it up my love.
Oh break it up, yeah break it up, oh oh break it up, yeah just break it up.
So where in the world, where in the world,
Where in the world can I hide this hurt?
I dont mind, yeah I dont mind.
If you call me sad, call me strong,
Strong enough to make it on my own.
I dont mind, yeah I dont mind.
If you tear down your walls inside
Go for the brandnew ride
But babe please dont let me so, oh oh oh.
Break it up, break it up, break it up, break it up my love.
If you think that you cant stay with me break it up my love.
Oh break it up, yeah break it up, just break it up, oh oh break it up.
Oh oh oh, break it up, break it up, break it up, break it up my love.
If you think that you cant stay with me break it up my love.
Oh break it up, yeah break it up, just break it up, oh oh break it up, yeah.
song performed by by Scooter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Manuka Waka Migration Journey
flax fibre
twist plait
knot
ropes pull waka
rata season scarlet
letter tui bellbird chant
forest call
dawn chorus
awake spirits
melody songs
kauri earth rooted
sky stand poet
chant flies
spindle poet taxes
starvation soul
screaming write
visions boil in own blood cells
eyes boil flay flesh in vision quests
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Spring
Wake up again, sad heart, wake up again !
(I heard the birds this morning singing sweet.)
Wake up again ! The sky was crystal clear,
And washed quite clean with rain ;
And tar below my heart stirred with the year,
Stirred with the year and sighed. O pallid feet
Move now at last, O heart that sleeps with pain
Rise up and hear
The voices in the valleys, run to meet
The songs and shadows. O wake up again !
Put out green leaves, dead tree, put out green leaves t
(Last night the moon was soft and kissed the air.)
Put out green leaves ! The moon was in the skies,
All night she wakes and weaves.
The dew was on the grass like fairies' eyes,
Like fairies' eyes. O trees so black and bare,
Remember all the fruits, the full gold sheaves;
For nothing dies,
The songs that are, are silences that were,
Summer was Winter. O put but green leaves!
Break through the earth, pale flower, break through the earth !
(All day the lark has sung a madrigal.)
Break through the earth that lies not lightly yet
And waits thy patient birth,
Waits for the jonquil and the violet,
The violet. Full soon the heavy pall
Will be a bed, and in the noon of mirth
Some rivulet
Will bubble in my wilderness, some call
Will touch my silence. O break through the earth.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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