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Allen Ginsberg

Allen Ginsberg, I love you
You have inspired me to be a poet
Your creation “Howl” and other writings have stimulated me to write
You are a real poet
A poet of your own
Your life, your philosophy all
Mandate you to be the ONE
As I go learning you
I find something new in you
You have moved the west and the east together
And have stirred all new things
Specially when you write “September on Jessore Road”
And utter “Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes”
I, as a Bengali feel proud

poem by Kazi Ahmed
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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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A Poet To Be

A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.

I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.

I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.

I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.

But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.

I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.

I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.

I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.

A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.

I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.

I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.

It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.

A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.

But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.

How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.

As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.

poem by Adam McKim
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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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The life of a Poet

The poet listens
the poet hears
he writes down
all his fears.
He observes things
that others don't
going to places
that others won't.
Inspired by simple things
like a sound or smell
the poet has lots
of stories to tell.
Even when asleep
his mind isn't at rest
in fact this is the time
it's at it's creative best.
The poet can be a restless soul
his life reflected on the page
some verse can be sweet and mild
then full of anger and rage.
The poet can be mysterious
and write in a strange way
he will say Black is White
and that night is day.
The poet is an artist
but instead of paint it's the word
painters want their work to be seen
but poets just need to be heard.

poem by Kevin Halls
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The Poet

The poet can only utter the word fine
The poet has to bear the sorrow and the sin.

The poet can only say I am happy
The poet can only say I feel no aches no pain
The poet can only say I am not in loss
The poet can only say I am in the side of only gain.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Nice Fun

pen

love the poem...

so...

not write...

poet love

the poem

pen will bee

write..

pen is

only tool

tool is
pen...

on sky..

on river...

on life...

on sad...

on happy

all watching life...

with poet

take him to write...

pen...

poet will bee

having nice fun...

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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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 Poet Who No Longer Believes In Himself

THE POET WHO NO LONGER BELIEVES IN HIMSELF

The poet who no longer believes in himself
And writes on anyway-
The poet who is too weak to stop writing-
The poet who has died as a poet,
Before he has as a person-
The poet who may never have lived as a poet-
The old old old schnook,
Still trying to write a poem
And believing he has done it once again.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poet is free

Poet is free
No grammarian can guide the poet
Do not tell before a poet you are dare
And I know there are so many grammarians
With so many grammars
The poet is one with truth with love
All the grammars old middle modern
Are of no use for a poet
At the time of poet's thought
Poet's love poet's poetry
Nobody can search research poet's history
Nobody can dare to described poet
Poet can create his own language
His own grammar and it does not bother the poet
Whether you like it or not
Leave the poet on his own way
It is better you to read him love him
If you are alive.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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World of beauty

Before I meet you I believe that there’s a limit for the beauty

But when I see you I know that I was wrong

Because your beauty don’t have a limit your undescribable beauty

When I see you I see the real beauty a sea of beauty
So I try to write about it to descript it and I do write and write and write
And I look to your eyes and start remember what I write about this beauty
So I find out that all what I write don’t equal a dot in your beauty sea
And I ask the poet’s to help in describe this beauty and the all try but we all know that what we write and what the poet’s will write is just a dot
A dot in your beauty sea…

By Walid T Salame

poem by Walid Salame
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Goodbye Poet! ! ! !

Very sad when a Poet close your book
leave his pen and left us
So we say: There goes, Aphrodite, Apollo, Hades
find your ethereal Muse and make peaces with God

Because
The Poet goes different

He goes taking all of us with him
He goes but leaving your scrolls, hymns
His Ilíadas, Odisseias
For ever and Never

Because
The Poet let us different

He dare to be absent without a motive
confront dead and write the more beautiful Poem
Poet's heart now beats alone!

So go Poet
Go, because you are different

poem by Mirna Morgan
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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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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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I read another poet I could not understand

I READ ANOTHER POET I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND

I read another poet I could not understand
The metaphors racing one after the other
The eternal thoughts taking on a new particular dress
Words and more words
Lines and more lines
Rushing toward meaning and beauty.

And in it all my simple not understanding,
My waiting to hear words that would return to me-
My understanding
That only by my own effort
By my reading again and again
By my willing to believe
Could I make another poet real.

But do I want another poet to be real
When I am a question,
And when there are already others real for me also?

Oh selfish little man oh poor poor reader-

Write your poem alone again
As if no one but you will ever be able to write
The poems which are real.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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POET and POETESS

Poet and Poetess can write words oh so sweet.
They can make you throb inside,
make you feel the heat.

Poet and Poetess can write words oh so strong.
They can make you hurt inside,
make you feel what's wrong.

They take on love.
They take on hate.
They make your mind saturate
with tears of joy
and tears of woe
that just grab hold
and won't let go.

Poet and Poetess can write write words oh so true.
They can make you think inside,
make you think things through.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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I Am More A Poet

I AM MORE A POET THAN ANY OTHER KIND OF WRITER

I am more a poet than any other kind of writer-
But I am not a pure poet -
And not the best of what a poet could be-
I 'think' in my poetry
And it tells me what I dream and feel-
It is my soul-

God made me a poet
Perhaps not a good one as I would have liked to be-

It is so wonderful to be able to write these lines now
After long long hours of difficult silence.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Self

Bluff it is
If I say I'm a learned poet
For I'm not a scholar
So too my poems

My master's degree..
Lost in the abyss of oblivion
Searching out of and on
Those learnt reminiscences

I write to learn
Learning to write
And that learning
For my heart's happy content

You're welcome to read my words
For shared should be my happiness
Pat or hit..I don't bother
For I'm not a learned poet

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Don't

Don't fall in love with a poet
for they will melt your heart
and there is no escape, you see
for romance is their art.

Don't try to vie with a poet
for words trip from their mouths
as easily as quick silver
that lines the darkest clouds.

Don't tell a poet your secrets
for very soon you'll see,
they'll write them as a metaphor
upon a paper sea.

Don't make a stance with a poet
for you don't stand a chance
they'll sway you with emotions
and words that sweetly dance.

Don't fall in love with a poet,
however they endear,
for strong romantic gestures
will conjure flowing tears.

Don't fall in love with a poet
for life will surely change
but oh how happy you will be
to have it rearranged.

poem by Ruth Walters
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The Poet Despairs

THE POET DESPAIRS

The poet despairs,
He cannot write-
All his thoughts and words are confusion.
He has lost who he is,
And does not know why he is in the world.
The poet cannot write
He is no longer a poet
He does not know why
But he can no longer be.
Oh how he loves Poetry
And how he is tormented
By having lost it.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poet

a poet knows nothing best than a seer, nay neither
touches like a magician nor prays like a monk, yet!
feel the tremendous heart that breathes and sees the
oozing shadow of the light, a poet lives

Oh! what wonder! each word exists where
every poet has come to paste, as the world
turns its page every color the pen refreshes

as the poet begins to tell, every feeling makes it
to fulfill, though in every edge there is always some
sad stories that everybody could feel and relate

a poet always wins in every ink of a pen, there is
always pain, turning others' gain, the end
holds on to reign, and the heart of the immortal fight
has just begun, transcend beyond it rainbow's
plain, wherein every poetry the dying soul comes
to raise the wonderful surprises of life

as the fulfillment has gone, and every one's dream
has achieved and the poet now wishes to repose in the
lamp light grave the pen it lays, leaving the world to
be freed watching my hand to flee

wish me luck; the time has to come, where my day is
counted in the pen everyone is perfected and my
moment is for you to remember that in very write our
soul leads us to be upright and every way is alright,
and now haggle me to know that I am a poet at the
end of my life

a poet in a shining armor of light.........

poem by Antonio Liao
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