Still Images Of Poet's Soul
I will follow you not for your expressive words
written but for the beauty of nature photographs
taken posted for these still images of poet's soul
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hand Of The Infinite
aeons ephemeral beauty
balancing beautiful thought
contrast from gifted mind
to hand that gives bestows
images of an embellished infinite
sharing rare beauty perception
the hand of passion infinite
written into indelible patterned nature
written into seasons lessons
through years flows eternity
across life seasoned minds renewal
are sight sound felt senses
images spoken through whisper
whisper creation through eve receptive
serene cosmic harmony beautify
in spoken crystal moments
creation nature kaleidoscopic infuses
sparkles divinity personified
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Metaphors of A Free Poet
Leaves shine their best
In the fall,
When they are dying.
Days grown cold
Are left behind,
While the sky comes around to crying.
Shadows can only show
True beauty,
Scattered in rays of the sun's light.
While nature's darkest picture
Is the moon hidden behind clouds,
On a chilled and rainy night.
What sets the soul
Of the poet free?
- the lack of law to conformity -
To bend and blend at will
Time with eternity;
Outter inspiration with inner ability.
Some times (with surprise) arrive
With no name,
Leaving only questions to ponder
Why they came.
Words in cryptic ways
May design delicate days,
Adorned with wonders so brief
Bringing just the slightest spiritual relief.
If even one soul
May find,
In some word I've pressed
A small peace of mind,
Or see just a glimpse
Of beauty so divine,
Then what I have sought
Of all that I feel,
(written metaphorically)
Shall finally become real.
This beyond all else
Is what sets the soul free,
Within the likes
Of a simple poet... like me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Innocent Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent beauty lives below the mountain;
Enjoys the beauty of the fountain.
Magnifies the beauty of Nature;
With sweet conversation contents poet’s desire.
Innocent Beauty is a beautiful flower;
In the lap of Nature is a lovely creature.
Her innocence provides inspiration;
She is a cosy rosy Beauty in the lap of Creation.
A little sweet conversation delights the poet day and night;
He is inspired to depict verses with delight.
Derives peace and pleasure;
Derives peace from the lap of Nature.
Beauty passes on the path delightfully;
Poet depicts poems gaily.
Enchants enjoying the Beauty;
She is a Brook of Gaiety.
Vernal Sun beam provides gay;
Beauteous looks the vernal day.
People enchant delightfully;
Poet surrenders on Mother’s feet gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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I'm A Poet
I'm a Poet
A twister of words
I open a world unseen to others
I bring meaning to the meaningless
I use words as my weapon
It's a double edged sword
I can bring beauty to a slum land
Horror to a smile
I can give life to the dead
Immorality to a flower
Then destroy it in the next line
I'm a poet
A rhymer of words
I see the unseen
And create new worlds
I am an artist of the written
A magician of the pen
I can make words rhyme
Or go free verse
It all depends
On how I feel in that moment
I'm a poet
To the end
poem by Rachel Dowd
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Written words
Written words
~
Where the written words
Depict the heart itself
How can it fail to touch the soul
The beauty of language
In the expression of thought
Is the unbound creation
Within us all
It is know as humane beauty
The life breath
A belief in a dream
Immortal and thought filled
Alive upon the page
There the written word exists
Reflecting the world
Depicting the heart itself
How can it fail to touch
A human soul
poem by Matthew Holloway
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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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Spoke To The Heart
many will read
few will comment
written words provoked
no response
in heart of emptiness
no answering echo chimed
perhaps these probing words
were not written to you
perhaps your faith
was still fledgling
unable to leave nest
to venture forth
upon world adventures
courage to take wing
was lacking
it was not your time
words never spoke
to your heart
perhaps they were not
written to you
perhaps you never
opened minds eye
perhaps you never will
perhaps this is not
your life purpose
perhaps to lead is
not written upon
enlightened soul
is not an aspiration
also born are those
who must follow
who must serve
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bob Dylan Heard The Voice
Bob Dylan heard the voice
Of a poet who died in the gutter;
That dying voice
Then seeped into his soul
Imbuing him with beauty and truth.
And that voice
Of the old poet is now
As hard as twisted nails,
But it still has the rare beauty
Of complete honesty.
Thus I continue to follow
The great wandering gypsy of song.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Nature Poet
Out there in the great ocean the wild waves toss and roll
The music of saltwater is in the poet's soul
She sits upon the high cliff that overlooks the sea
The beauty in words she captures keeps on eluding me.
She does not write for love of money nor she does not write for fame
She lives a quiet existence and her's is not a well known name
She writes of the four Seasons that ever come and go
A woman who loves Nature and of Nature's ways she know.
Some of those who think they know her say she is rather strange
Her moods are like the Seasons her moods are prone to change
But she is close to Nature and how could they understand
Her anger at human damage to the ocean and the land.
With folded wings into the mighty ocean from the sky the gannets dive
And her wonderment at the ways of Nature's creatures it once more comes alive
And she writes about the gannets as she sits on the cliff above the shore
And her beautiful words inspired by Nature's beauty will live on forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Farewell To The Poets And Poetesses Of Nature
Farewell to the poets and poetesses of Nature
Their beautiful rhymes are a gift of the heart
In literature they will always be remembered
For their promotion of Nature in which they played a huge part.
In their verses they captured some of the beauty of the Natural World
And their legacy in words is still with us today
In their poems one can visualize the wild birds singing
And in the warm Summer breeze get the sweet scent of hay.
Not all of them World famed or publicly acclaimed
Though a literary gem or two they created with us does remain
They played their own part in the promotion of Nature
And their likes perhaps we may not see again.
I love those old wordsmiths and their musical verses
They sung of the beauty around them they see
They had music in them their words so well written
With Nature they lived in complete harmony.
Farewell to the poets and poetesses of Nature
Their beautiful words do not have in them a use by date
To them we feel grateful for promoting Nature
And we thank them for the beauty that they did create.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The nature of her beauty
The nature of her beauty
~
her pale soft skin
pure like untouched fields of snow
her lips red like the roses petal
feather like in their kiss
those eyes warm like the earth
feed my soul with a richness of passion
the depth of which is limitless
bury my heart into hers
let me lay amongst her nature
let me rejoice her beauty
let her words sing to me
the essence of her soul
place my hands in hers firmly
that I may feel their warmth
holding eternally
there is a beauty undying
embedded into my heart
and its all in her nature
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery beauty passes on the way;
Poet beholds the beauty of Beauty with gay.
The creation of Nature is alluring;
Innocent Beauty is dazzling.
Beautiful face allures passes by;
Allures lovers with gay.
Beauty is the creation of Almighty;
Beholding, poet derives gaiety.
Beauty tranquilises poet's mind on the way;
Poet derives profound peace with gay.
Curly crisp wavy long cloudy hairs entice the poet;
Mind remains in the world of peace with delight.
Innocent beautiful face allures the poet in evening;
Poet's mind is delighting.
With a little conversation mind is peaceful;
Her sweet talk is delightful.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Poet not to remain
It is essence of poet not to remain quiet
Even though may not have knowledge considered to be basic
The thoughts and images must reach to the masses
As they may have enough of it to read in classes
The flower may not know what fragrance it has
There might not be awareness yesterday as it was
Still there may be bright tomorrow to celebrate
It may be simple try by poet to project and narrate
The poets are called crazy and thought driven
They do not bother for their appearance even
They eat whatever they get and stay wherever they are
The world is so close to them and not very far
They are part of each living object
They accept it in mind and never reject
They try to feel natural belongingness
And it is there as gift to feel oneness
Not all can feel the impulse of nature
Not all can see the well being of future
Only few can breathe with it and survive
They make it perfect and try to revive
It requires third eye to feel the real soul
You may witness it casually and not as whole
You get hurt when something wrong is done to nature
You express sorrow when over apathy to cure
Not that people are cruel and less sentimental
They may be part of bad set up and very much instrumental
Yet poet is different from others and feels grieved
He has the noble soul and her words are respected and believed
Everybody may be passing through critical phase
There may be mad race and long chase
Yet there may be enough of reasonability in approach
Poet may try to project but not attempt to teach or preach
Some of them may be called nationalist
Some one may be well known as futurists
Some may come out as strong supporters of the liberty
Some may prove very good at prayers of almighty
It is not that only poets do great service
People from many walks of life also suffice
Their contribution is well known and of very good standard
It is the basis for which to go ahead and look forward
But the rainbow can only be seen in poetic heart
By little appearance of natural beauty it will simply start
It will pen beautiful words to please old and young alike
Not all the ideas may occur to all or strike
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Poet not to remain quiet
It is essence of poet not to remain quiet
Even though may not have knowledge considered to be basic
The thoughts and images must reach to the masses
As they may have enough of it to read in classes
The flower may not know what fragrance it has
There might not be awareness yesterday as it was
Still there may be bright tomorrow to celebrate
It may be simple try by poet to project and narrate
The poets are called crazy and thought driven
They do not bother for their appearance even
They eat whatever they get and stay wherever they are
The world is so close to them and not very far
They are part of each living object
They accept it in mind and never reject
They try to feel natural belongingness
And it is there as gift to feel oneness
Not all can feel the impulse of nature
Not all can see the well being of future
Only few can breathe with it and survive
They make it perfect and try to revive
It requires third eye to feel the real soul
You may witness it casually and not as whole
You get hurt when something wrong is done to nature
You express sorrow when over apathy to cure
Not that people are cruel and less sentimental
They may be part of bad set up and very much instrumental
Yet poet is different from others and feels grieved
He has the noble soul and her words are respected and believed
Everybody may be passing through critical phase
There may be mad race and long chase
Yet there may be enough of reasonability in approach
Poet may try to project but not attempt to teach or preach
Some of them may be called nationalist
Some one may be well known as futurists
Some may come out as strong supporters of the liberty
Some may prove very good at prayers of almighty
It is not that only poets do great service
People from many walks of life also suffice
Their contribution is well known and of very good standard
It is the basis for which to go ahead and look forward
But the rainbow can only be seen in poetic heart
By little appearance of natural beauty it will simply start
It will pen beautiful words to please old and young alike
Not all the ideas may occur to all or strike
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Beware Words Written
words celebrating what is written
beware allure of beauty in words written
seek instead words thoughts not written
words not written thoughts not written
themes not written which need to be written
the importance of the unwritten demands writing
important world needs consciousness needs writing
urgent global necessity issues demands needs writing
actions resolutions policy change harmony restoration needs writing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.
quote by Ansel Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery Beauty allures the poet;
Poet waits a while for a little delight.
Admires the art of creations;
Pervading the mystery of Beauty she frees tension.
Silvery Beauty allures delightfully;
Poet drinks the nectar of Beauty gaily.
The vehicle waits a while on the path;
Poet enchants with mirth.
Beauty is a gift of Almighty;
Lover enjoys with Delight.
Beauty enchants mind, heart miraculously;
Lover functions duty delightfully.
Poet heart reminisces Beauty’s face with gaiety;
He derives peace and delight;
All beautiful things are attracting;
In the lap of Nature are delighting.
Beauty appears with peace and pleasure;
Contents lover’s desire.
Beauty is a Deity;
Lover prays with gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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This Poem Should Have Been Written Long Ago By Someone Else
This poem should have been written long ago by someone else
They should have said what needs to be said
Clearly and yet beautifully
They should have known what to do with their words and their intimations -
But instead I old I tired old I I with the I I I always I’ing
Have to write it again-
This poem should have been written by someone else
The way I was when I was young
But even then probably it should have been written by someone else
Younger happier stronger wiser more courageous able to give and inspire others to love life more and make it more good and more beautiful
A real poet a great poet should have written this poem
And then it would be one
Even I would try not to forget.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poems Of John Clare
For years in Northampton mental asylum he battled his ghosts of despair
His Nation's finest poet of Nature the marvellous wordsmith John Clare
So many of his poems are relevant today
The one who loved Nature with words had a way.
The Helpston he grew up in not a cultural place
And though in that old Village his was a known face
They little realized the fame to them he'd bring
That poetry lovers World wide his praises would sing.
Without him less people of Helpston would know
The great poet of Nature of centuries ago
He died in Northampton mental asylum in dire poverty
Yet is there one greater Nature poet than he?
His flora and fauna poems have passed scrutiny's test
And as a Nature poet he was surely the best
Into the soul of Nature it seemed he could see
And his verses have outlived his mortality.
He never did enjoy his literary renown
And he died in the asylum in Northampton Town
But he was a true poet and his type are so rare
And old Helpston lives on in the poems of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Ars Gratia Artis
i will say this
and i will say this
again to you
it is for art's sake
that i write
not for the rating
not for popularity
that is why i never
go on campaigning
that you read me
i do not advertise
no gimmicks
just plain writing
because i just feel
like doing it
words come and
i welcome them
they ask to be written
and so i have to
write them
art must be for art's sake
words are written
and poems are posted
because they are here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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