There once was a poet named Seale
With writes of far reaching appeal
He wrote through the night
Where his poems took flight
And when they were done he'd reveal
quote by by Stevie Taite
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The Poet Writes Of Poems And Poets And Poetry
THE POET WRITES OF POEMS AND POETS AND POETRY
The poet writes of poems and poets and poetry,
And the world goes by
And nothing is done.
And the sky- the sky.
Is it still above?
And Love and Kindness
Are they still deep in us,
Words or not?
Without Poetry the world does not exist for the poet-
But for others,
Dreams have other names,
And Music plays on,
And singing and laughter
Go on as the Beauty of Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Death Toll 5,000,001
whew
if you as the modern poet
writes
ten poems a day,
this man writes
30 poems
a day......
giga...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the 'Guy'
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
He even wrote a character named Sarah Brown
I have a character Sarah who lives by a clown.
Little Miss Marker was a play he wrote-
I wrote a poem Little Miss Melodie who sings a note.
His grandfather was from New Jersey just like me
I see a lot of similarities-
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Damon Runyon In A Past Life?
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the 'Guy'
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
He even wrote a character named Sarah Brown
I have a character Sarah who lives by a clown.
Little Miss Marker was a play he wrote-
I wrote a poem Little Miss Melodie who sings a note.
His grandfather was from New Jersey just like me
I see a lot of similarities-
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
www.suzae.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Poet Is A Poet/Wherever He Goes
A POET IS A POET/ WHEREVER HE GOES
A poet is a poet
Wherever he goes
He can stop and sit on a bench anywhere
And write a poem
The poems come from without often
But what is within is the poetry-
Like a dream like a fire like a small light
That never goes out
A poet sits anywhere and writes his dream-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Where is He - Is He Dead?
Where is he -
Is he dead?
Where is the poet
Whose poems I just read?
I hope he still writes
It's a pity if he's gone
He may have lost the fight
But his poems will live on.
We are like miners of gold
These poems are the treasure
Though all poets will grow old
We had the best of pleasure!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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There Was Nothing Left To Write
THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT TO WRITE
There was nothing left to write
Everything had already been written
And was being written over again and again
By thousands elsewhere-
There was nothing left to write
And nothing new to say -
And no need for anything he had to give-
It was over for him as a writer
Whether he accepted it or not-
No one would ever need or want anything he could do again-
And so when he despite all this still wrote
It seemed to many simply pathetic-
The obsessive reflex of an already lost soul-
Who wrote and wrote and wrote
Who writes and writes and writes
Who cannot stop
However senseless all he does, is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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
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George Crabbe Wrote Of
George Crabbe wrote of hardship and poverty and woe
In the England he lived in a long time ago
But perhaps his poems might be more popular today
Had he looked at life in a less truthful way.
George Crabbe wrote of children in dire poverty
The poor sad victims of Human cruelty
And the poems full of pathos and the poems full of truth
Of a poet who was blessed with the great gift of ruth.
He wrote of human cruelty to their own kind
A God in the soul of such a person you'll find
He did not write of mythological figures or monarch or squire
He wrote for the poor his type I do admire.
Of the poverty around him he was all too aware
But poets like George Crabbe they have always been rare
Though if you feel a bit down and a good laugh you do need
His poems lacking in Humor are not for you to read.
Of the poor souls of England George Crabbe did write
His poems not hard to understand or to read or recite
And though as a person and poet he was great
Such poets the masses never do celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Ships Of The Night
Poems pass
in the night also.
Port starboard lights
burn bright also.
Poems pass stirred
hear wave slap night gongs?
Have you not heard
their salty soft saline songs?
Poems pass plotted
in navigated narrows; of lapping passage night.
Have you not heard
their soft spoken saline songs; by glow of candle light?
Poems pass navigated
in natant night also.
Daily cares contested
at last laid low below.
Poems pass
in shadow seamed night.
Poems pass
in nuptial nocturnal night flight.
Has not herald heard
silver shimmering saline songs?
Poems pass like flight of bird
as eternal endless night sails on.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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To God Give The Glory (Monchielle)
To God give the glory
Is a treasure to read
Christina R. Jussaume
Is great poet indeed
Her poems vanish gloom
To God give the glory
Her love for Christ is pure
It reflects thru poems
Her words are wise and kind
Uplifts the soul is true
To God give the glory
I'm glad I got a copy
You'll enjoy what you see
She writes witty and nice
Happy her book I read
To God give the glory
Poet tells some funny jokes
She writes of God and life
Of Christ and all she knows
Poet shares loves and strife
November 25,2009
Author's note:
'To God Give The Glory' is a wonderful
and very uplifting poetry book written by
the great poetess Christina R. Jussaume
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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0240 The Poet and the Tree
Tenderly
under the tree's shade
the poet wrote;
wishing
that his poems
might have the grace
of the tree.
the tree heard
the poet's wish
and gave itself,
to share his book
leaf for leaf
for as long
as his poems lived
and so it was
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Portable Poet
THE PORTABLE POET
The portable poet writes
wherever he goes
On backs of envelopes
Poems-perhaps prose.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My revealings
What I wrote might not appeal,
Might lack flavour and favour
But are ones that reveal my thoughts,
Sentiments and secrets, mind.
24.08.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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An Old Man Sits and Writes Poems
An old man sits and writes poems
And each poem is a cry from his soul
An old man sits and writes poems
And who is he what does he know?
An old man writes poems
And they are his soul
Poems and poems and poems alone-
His soul.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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That's The Man
Unknown -a stranger in Antioch- the man from Edessa
writes and writes. And at last, there,
the final canto's done. That makes
eighty-three poems in all. But so much writing,
so much versifying, the intense strain
of phrasing in Greek, has worn the poet out,
and now everything has gone stale.
But a thought suddenly brings him out of his dejection:
the sublime 'That's the man'
which Lucian once heard in his sleep.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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A Message Here For All You Poets
The love poet writes of lovely things like true love and flowers in bloom
And the roses in the poet's garden scent of a sweet perfume
And the gentle hearted applaud him saying what a marvellous poet
He surely is a child of God and one worthy of note.
The love poet writes of love of God and the God fearing say
He's a fine poet one of the best love and respect to God he pay
He hear no evil speak no evil only write of God and love
And there's a place reserved for him in God's Kingdom up above.
The social issues poet writes of the poor and few his verses read
They say he writes such morbid stuff sob stories we do not need
He keeps highlighting the downtrodden and those in poverty
He ought to put more trust in God and in Humanity.
A message here for all you poets don't write of the downtrod
But write of affairs of your heart and write of your love of God
And some will say how great you are and your praises they will sing
And they will pay respect to you and call you their Poetic Queen or King.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Universe Writes A Poem
The universe is a poet.
She looked at him
with a forgiving smile.
How would you know that?
Well, the credo flows
from the unity
of the knower and the known,
he said.
Besides,
symmetry involves reciprocity.
And the holographic qualities
of the cosmos imply
that just as the poet
is part of the universe,
the universe is part
of the poet, too.
So, when a poet writes a poem
the universe writes its own.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Epitaph For A Poet
His poems in millions sold
The poet lies here dead and cold!
Here lies the poet
Who through toil and sweat
Played word games,
Wrote many poems.
From his heart deep thoughts
Poured out in lots
Creations of his mind
Made his readers blind.
How was he as a person?
It’s mostly unknown
His own comforts he did embrace
Little he cared for others’ happiness
With mortal temptations he was bewitched
Never followed the values he preached.
Small lapses (or are they?) for a poet so great
Aloof in life, he lies solitary in death!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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