Isolation Rocks
to read poets
their poems
is time choice
actually poet
would write
more superior
poems
if educated read
other poets?
interacted more
nothing happens
in still isolation?
isolation rocks
soul voice would
become more
mainstream
golden voice
is orchestra
soloist singers
must solo sing
orchestra backed?
therefore
give me
the crags
rivers
waterfalls
wilderness
as I sing
their alone
only echoes
are
distant
heard
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Soloist Singers
isolation rocks
soul voice would
become more...
mainstream
golden voice
is orchestra...
soloist singers
must solo sing
orchestra backed?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time Choice
to read poets
their poems
is time choice
actually poet
would write
more superior
poems
if educated read
other poets?
interacted more
nothing happens
in still isolation?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Voice In The Wilderness
therefore
give me
the crags
rivers
waterfalls
wilderness...
as I sing
their alone
only echoes
are
distant
heard...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Write Poems For Poets
I WRITE POEMS FOR POETS
I write poems for poets
Our situation as poets-
The longings the feelings
We so need to express-
The love of language-
The hunger for recognition-
The frequent rejection-
The kind word of a reader that moves-
Poems for poets
We as we each are
All so different-
And we as we share
Words and worlds
We hope to have read.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Do not read my poems…. [for YOU ]
Do not read my poems…
After I am dead
As a lament, a wail
An elegy, a requiem
Do not read my poems…
After I am gone
When no more I can
Hear your velvet voice.
Do not read my poems…
Alone without me
To comment along
And read with you
But, do read my poems
When I beside you lie
With my head resting
On your supporting arm
Listening to you read
In whisper, in kisses
In silence, in love
In sleep, in dream
Watching you feel
Every word I wrote
I’ll close my eyes - Love
Brush aside my hair
With your breathe
Which half veils my face
Sleepless fevered I wrote
Read me my poems
Now sing me a lullaby
Rock me to sleep
On your broad chest
Diving into your eyes
A thousand times
I am refreshed
By your smile
I’ll write on you a poem
Traced by my fingertips
To be etched in your heart
And burnt into your soul!
So, do not read my poems…
poem by Angelina Pandian
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I Have Read Many Poems I Know I Never Could Have Written
I have read many poems I know I never could have written
Poems whose language was far richer and more remarkable than mine
Poems that saw as I cannot see and sounded as I cannot sound
Poems of magnificent music and many hidden meanings
I have read many poems greater than those I could ever write
And have been humbled and saddened and inspired by them
Out there somewhere else
There have been real poets
And I in my own little lines
Love and respect them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Please Do Not Be Another Poet Biting The Dust
please
do not be one of those poets biting the dust
this is not an arid land
a desert
this is a paradise, a place where rivers from our hearts flow
where we like to hear birds singing
where clouds drift like our freedom to be where we want to be
please
do not succumb to the call of popularity
there is nothing there but an empty bag
a wind in our heads
please
write because you want to
not because you want to be read
but because you want to sing to the gods
because you have an offering
to the altar of the divine
without expecting anything in return
look at the bird flying in the skies
they do not skyjump or go
into an exhibition for a show
they fly because they have wings to fly
we write because we have many poems all waiting to be written
we are poets because we are here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Read and Reread/ The Poets I Love
I READ AND REREAD/ THE POETS I LOVE
I read and reread
The poets I love-
I seek new poets
To love poetry more with-
I write my own small poems
And read them again occasionally-
Sometimes I find in them lines
I want to return to
And remember.
If only I could be such a stranger to myself
That I in reading a poem of my own
Would know it belongs to Literature.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Professional Poet
and of course it was wrong
to label him as that – in just that tone of voice;
a touch of envy there, no doubt
implying a comfortable life,
a smart careerist, older poets youthfully
cultivated, poems in the right magazines,
editors gently kept in touch with;
keeping on the right side of his peers,
'interesting' reviews of their poetry skilfully woven,
professional favours quietly exchanged;
academic posts gracefully filled, and
moved on from; leaving grateful ex-students
recommended for the vacancy;
and an acquired ability
to write just enough, but not less;
so it should be rather, a lifelong devotee of poetry,
and when he started to read to us I felt mean
for assuming him to be some artificial thing
a professional poet;
I wanted to inhabit his poetry, the
house of his poetry; but some doors
to rooms were open, some were shut;
would I give the time to find and love the key?
He read his own poems
as if they were step-children –
proud to show them off, and yet, not really his;
the audience, taken aback by this,
hesitated to applaud.
But when he read the poems of others,
he read them as though they were miracles
to stun and to admire, yet he was, we were, barely worthy of;
dropping as fine mercy, as the gentle dew of heaven; he read like
an amateur would read the great, in awe; as -
a lifelong devotee of poetry. He shone.
In each of us, a poet was born and lived.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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Voice of Poet
Poet voice is echo of mankind, speak of angels
Can inspire the soldiers to take on to the battle,
That sprinkle flowers of words, leading to love,
Hearts are bound to melt, even tough enough.
Poets voice can pain and heel wounds of heart,
So create romantic scene causing heart spurt.
Poets read out hearts, can see deep in dark,
Any place in cosmos, are capable to embark.
Their fabulous words can add colours to rainbow
Draw picture of the soul as an amazing shadow,
Voice of poets engender love and compassion
That is mirror of society giving lucid reflection.
Martyrs of war who gone time back to graves,
Poetry has power to keep alive those braves.
Poems expose creatures, portray orb’s images,
Poetry live the human life through out stages.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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If I Knew What Poets Know
If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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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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Absolute Necessity
Absolute necessity
Is poetry a luxury or one of life’s necessities?
I have to read, I have to write poetry a pure delight.
Other poets inspire me.Exploring the variety
of forms and styles that I can find, serves to stimulate my mind.
I do not claim to be the best I am just one amongst the rest
of poets posting on the net. Who you remember or forget.
Is poetry a luxury the answer must be NO from me.
To some it seems a waste of time to other folks it is sublime.
You are quite free to make your choice. But I will always raise my voice.
Applauding poets who can write fine poetry that brings delight,
Uplift the hearts of other men, more power to the poet’s pen.
27/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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So Many Poets
so many poets
so many poems
all popping up like mushrooms after the lightning and thunder
no one comes to see
no one comes to say the mushrooms are not so white not so good
so many poems
so many poets
the readers are few, the readers are lesser
but what can you do?
what do you expect?
well, i am just writing my diary, and i am the reader who reads it myself
to ease this pain,
to let myself know that with all my unrequited loves, i still dare to write
and exist.
and i don't really care.
so many poets
look at these poems
they all look and sound the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetry
To those of you who've never read poems
there is a vacancy in your homes.
For poets dream
and poets scream
words that should be said
and never left dead.
They speak of love in artful wonder
and even love that's torn asunder.
They tell the stories that affect the people.
Their hopes, their fears,
the ageing years
their laughing times,
their weeping tears.
Poetry has its own special flow.
If you've never read it you don't know
its magic with word
not silent but heard.
To evoke in the mind
something you find
with rhythm and cadences
allowing your senses
to come alive.
Alive.
Most poets are quiet except with their pen.
They become quite vociferous especially when
conveying to you what they deem to be true.
For poets are sensitive
to all they see.
They speak from the heart
and hope to be
inspirational, controversial
to awaken in you
a picture or image
for your mind to view.
Poems are music and praise for the soul
that hungers and thirsts
for you to become whole.
All of the poets who've come and gone
have left their thoughts and then moved on,
moved on to pursue loftier goals
accompanied by words to soothe their souls.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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On The Goddess Of Poesy
The Goddess of Poesy the Goddess of Song
To the Universal immortals she surely belong
The poets of the World her praises do sing
The gift of poetry to their souls she does bring.
The poets to write poems Goddess Poesy inspire
And of singing her praises they don't seem to tire
The poetry of sorrow the poetry of joy
The poetry of youth of the young girl and boy.
The poetry of youthfulness and of growing old
Of young women in their prime lovely to behold
The beauty of Nature the birds and the bees
The mammals and fishes of land and of seas.
The Goddess of poets of every gender race and creed
For their inspiration to write in her lives her they need
Of love, life and Nature she inspires poets to write
For the lovers of poetry to read and recite.
poem by Francis Duggan
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