Philanthropic Acrostic
Love of your fellow Man.
(Acrostic) .
Poets of today, of Christian bent,
Have so many ways to display their skills
I am told not to measure time misspent
Literary culture is only food for Fools.
A Love of Mankind men should not resent.
Nor Women for that matter overrule.
Thrive on Poets past or near present.
Hero’s since the dawn of time to school.
Respect the rhymes of ethereal guidance sent.
Of words, your hoard of very precious jewels.
Poet? Praise of every Peer pursuant.
Indicates you’re not alone to quest.
Cynical? Not to do this for a reason?
Simply just to understand you’re truly blessed!
. -------------------
The Thousandth Man: 27th November 2007
poem by Philip Winchester
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Related quotes
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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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Perhaps You Might Call Me An Old Fashioned Man
Many love poets like Whitman and Eliot and Poe
The first of the moderns from decades ago
But of their sort of poetry I am not a fan
Perhaps in my ways I'm an old fashioned man.
I still love the old ballads I loved when I was young
That on Winter nights by the fire grate were sung
By then ageing men and women who now with the dead lay
But fond memories of them I have with me today.
Us youngsters learned from them the words of many a memorable song
And with the old songsters we used sing along
A love of old culture from them I did gain
And in the ways of the past I am one who remain.
The mentors of my young years much to them I do owe
The love of old culture in my mind they did sow
Songs they learned from their elders to us they passed down
May they rest in peace in their graves in the town.
I do love the songs that I learned as a boy
And memories of what was I still do enjoy
Of modern poets and their poetry I was never a fan
Perhaps you might call me an old fashioned man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Am Not The Poet's Poet But Perhaps The Would- Be- Poet's Would-Be Poet
I AM NOT THE POET’S POET BUT PERHAPS THE WOULD- BE- POETS WOULD – BE –POET
I am not the poet’s poet-
The one poets of name and fame admire-
But perhaps the would- be- poets would be – poet-
Who tries to be a poet
And tries to understand what it means
To love poetry and live by writing it
Even when the world does not recognize me..
.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Liking For Rhyme
My literary tastes have not changed with the passing of time
I have always been one with a liking for rhyme
To rhyme is so easy as some like to say
Though rhymers seem so out of fashion today
But I am a lover of ballad and song
And rhymes with a lilt that just jingle along
I loved reading the old rhyming verse as a boy
Something to this day I do thoroughly enjoy
Some literary dons refer to a rhymer as a doggerel poet
As not anyone worthy of literary note
From the Poets Club with their words rhymers they exclude
For educated people they seem rather rude
But I am a fan of good old rhyming stuff
And for many years now I have been a rhyme buff.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Most Of The So Called Literary Experts
Most of the so called literary experts are dismissive of rhyme
They say 'tis the poetry of a long gone time
Yet the poets that they laud the poems they do write
Cannot be put to music and are hard to read and recite
The rhymer of today is not looked on as a poet
Or is not seen as one worthy of literary note
By the so called literary experts with literary degrees
Though their judgement on what is or is not poetry not everyone does please
They never will convince the old style rhyme buff
To him or her well written rhyme is not throw away stuff
In well written rhyme are the words to a song
And good rhyming poetry to music belong
Yet the degreed literary experts who on poetry like to have their say
Dismiss rhyming poets and their poetry as of yesterday.
poem by Francis Duggan
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God's Poets A Good Poem & Love
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
The First Poets
The First Poets hunted game in the forest and on the plains-
inventing signs and gestures; guttural sounds and mime-
and ultimately Words.
The First Poets wrote words and drew pictures
on the walls of caves
stamping their feet to drum-beats;
learning to dance.
The First Poets invented music for their words
religion, books and counting-conjuring up
in each instance-new things.
The First Poets imagined names for plants,
animals, birds and creatures of the sea;
sang songs about them-wrote poems and hymns.
creating sentiment, vows and promises-
marriage ceremonies.
Poets invented the idea of the Idea, of kindness, and visions.
Poets invented hope and the future, love of the past, community.
Poets invented the rhythm of our lives.
Poets re-invent themselves and civilization each generation.
They peer into the gauzy dream and dream what is not yet;
they peer inside themselves
reaching in
with-drawing something new
from that which had not been
there
before.
The First Poets invent and re-invent civilization each generation.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God's Poets, Love & A Good Poem
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
EVERY OTHER NIGHT
If it was left to me and my desire
I would seek satisfaction every other night.
I would enjoy your divine, God given love
And hold you forever close and tight.
Every other night would be Heavenly for me
Though I must respect and honor what you do and say.
My need for you is far greater than your need for me
As I patiently wait for our time of play.
I will always remain watchful, loving and caring
Not to hurt, destroy, mistrust, dissatisfy or offend.
Out of all God's blessings from Heaven to Earth
You're my greatest treasure, passion and friend.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom's 465 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/
A Smothering of Poets
A love which ends badly-
if we let it-
freezes Time;
and we move on
covering it;
leaving it unchanged and unresolved.
We plant the last Kiss
with a question mark
knotted in the Semi-finish..
We drag our Dead Poet Love
into the future
bound and gagged
in the truck of the car
because all past loves
are Dead Poets;
we ignore the muffled cries
in the rear;
drive toward the future
tamping down the present
with a finger
dipped in
past and jaded memory.
We smother old past poets
put them away in the dark closet
because New Love
most often
doesn't share our love of
Former Poetries.
We reel in the Future now
before it is born;
strangled;
we make Hope for New Love
to lie
down in the cold;
but, our warm coat
is in the closet
which means
at odd times
in the chill
we dream of dead poets,
who sometimes
don't remain
dead still
in the trunk of the car
in the closet
in the category
nil.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Try to Understand Me Too (Autism)
Today might not be my day,
You might understand what I want to say.
There are times that I want to wave my hand,
And you might think it is something that I am trying to demand.
Can you hear the soun
ds as I pound my feet,
Well maybe not, but all I am doing is trying to sound a beat.
Do you remember when I read the book with you?
It was about the ghost and you made me laugh when you said BOO.
I love to hear it when we whisper and shout Lullabies, songs and rhymes,
To me I wonder, if they can hear us while we do this during school time.
This is one reason why I always say things over and over again,
And when you try to stop me, I get mad every now and then.
I only wish I can understand everything that I'm being told,
But to me it feels like I am always being controlled.
Can you remember when you asked the class a question and I wanted to answer it when was not my turn,
All I am just trying to do is show you that I can remember things that I learn.
I try to understand why I get so mad and I cannot control myself and I hurt you,
When I think about it I get sad and cry because I wish someone could, Try to Understand Me Too.
I wish the other kids would let me play,
If they took the time to talk to me, they might understand things my way,
I also love it when you want to teach me how to pray,
And you ask the Lord to help thru this day,
I know that you understand me and even, if no one ever wants to even take a guess,
So, this is my ways of saying thank you and telling you that I will always try and do my best.
poem by Frank Pulver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The poet's page
Like a band of beggars
Revealing to each other
Where to find the bread
Is the poets page
An open line
Where poets reveal what's
Inside their heads
A platform of
Artistic exchange
Where an accompany of poets
Express what should be said,
As the
Words seems to take on life
For they are poet read
Poets can feel one anothers pain
As well as relates to each
others shame
Emphasizing on a topic is
A poet's personal lane
Poets dvides the spoil
As they expand, due to
sharing their gain
This is partly my analogy
Of a poet's fame
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God's Most Publisghed Poet & A Good Poem
GOD'S MOST PUBLISGHED POET
I'm God's most published poet
Whose poems have meter and rhyme.
Stories of love, faith, hate, honor and duty,
Obedience, war, heroes, history and crime.
I've performed my gift on T.V. and radio
Before millions I've never met.
Preached my praise of God and country
With 462 poems on the net.
Satan's soldiers, shepherds and bards
Spew forth their foulness and grief.
They attack the joy and goodness of man
Dishonoring life, family, country and belief.
Prospering through work, love and conviction
Enables us to remain whole and how we should be.
Fortifying our soul with fulfillment of faith
Lets our worst tribulations be shouldered by Thee.
Moses, Samson, David, Solomon and Jonah
All failed God in their own human way.
He chose to forgive them and bless their powers
So they might dwell in hearts of man today.
Without God's grace, wisdom and glorious domain
There's no doubt all would soon cease to survive.
Through purpose, morals and Christian conviction
We are able to transform and keep hope alive.
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent his poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom Zart's 462 Poems Are Free To Share To Teach Or Show Support!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet On The Web!
Google = Tom Zart's Radio Shows
My Poet Time Travelers
I thought of it all day and well into the night
That for you a poem I would write.
What words can you use to describe a person
You’ve never seen.
Then a realization came into my mind
I’ve been writing them for a very long time.
Every time we write about GOD and his begotten son
The words flow freely and never left undone.
So it matters not if it is sight unseen
We write about everything- it’s a poets dream.
Poets go into worlds never traveled before
Seeking all that GOD has made
And come back with knowledge that they’ve gained.
Into the realms of mystery, love, excitement and fear
So that with you these words they could share.
They see the realities of today
The dreams of yesterdays
The future of tomorrows
And the pains and sorrows.
They are the time travelers of the mind
Their eyes are open - they are not blind.
So when you read what they write
It’s because of this time travelers insight.
So to my time traveling co-poets, this I must say
I am proud to have traveled this road with you
Into the minds of man, and writing
The stories that they all understand.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lenexa Poet Most Published On The Web!
LENEXA POET MOST PUBLISHED ON THE WEB!
I’m God’s most humble poet
Whose poems have meter and rhyme.
Stories of love, faith, hate, honor and duty,
Obedience, war, heroes, history and crime.
I’ve performed my gift on T.V. and radio
Before millions I’ve never met.
Preached my praise of God and country
With 450 poems on the net.
Satan’s soldiers, shepherds and bards
Spew forth their foulness and grief.
They attack the joy and goodness of man
Dishonoring life, family, country and belief.
Prospering through work, love and conviction
Enables us to remain whole and how we should be.
Fortifying our soul with fulfillment of faith
Lets our worst tribulations be shouldered by Thee.
Moses, Samson, David, Solomon and Jonah
All failed God in their own human way.
He chose to forgive them and bless their powers
So they might dwell in hearts of man today.
Without God’s grace, wisdom and glorious domain
There’s no doubt all would soon cease to survive.
Through purpose, morals and Christian conviction
We are able to transform and keep hope alive.
GOD’S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it’s God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent his poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can’t help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom Zart Poems Are Free To Share To Teach Or Show Love And Support!
By God’s Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
To Listen To Tom Zart’s Poems Go To =
http: //new.pivtr.com/en/schedule/tom-zart/
www.bill crain.net/musicpage.htm
http: //www.veteranstodayforum.com/viewforum.php? f=38
Turn a great poet
You can turn a great poet
Only you should have an art of keeping others quiet
Keep group of four or five to support
Rest other poets may stand to deport
It happens in all the organizations
It becomes known only after some revelations
But exactly what cause we serve by doing so?
We make indecent entry for other poets to go
There is no yard stick for readers to prefer
Some of the ideas are pre set and is likely to differ
Yet some kind of favor reflects in trend
This is enough reason for good poet to buckle or bend
In new set up, he may find hardly any one to support
Where as few others poets may kill his chance to anchor at port
None may appreciate his effort to strengthen poetry base
Lot many of them may disappear without facing tough chase
I have hardly any reason to resent
But of course spirit of good poetry is absent
You go after established poets with so much to praise
And not a single word for simple poet to boost or raise
Poets are born and not made
As earth gives up nice crops when deeply spade
It is water and natural manure that cultivates fine
Green corps may stand in defiance to define
Do the words create all magic in verses?
Yes if that is felt within one honestly pursues
Poetry may be felt all along even if ignored
As sea waves rush unstoppable toward shore
Bank may feel greatly elated at striking noise
The sound is heard beautifully with sweet voice
As if music is created with each passing wave
Ups and down of journey surely represent the waves
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Exhortation
Chameleons feed on light and air:
Poets' food is love and fame:
If in this wide world of care
Poets could but find the same
With as little toil as they,
Would they ever change their hue
As the light chameleons do,
Suiting it to every ray
Twenty times a day?
Poets are on this cold earth,
As chameleons might be,
Hidden from their early birth
In a cave beneath the sea;
Where light is, chameleons change:
Where love is not, poets do:
Fame is love disguised: if few
Find either, never think it strange
That poets range.
Yet dare not stain with wealth or power
A poet's free and heavenly mind:
If bright chameleons should devour
Any food but beams and wind,
They would grow as earthly soon
As their brother lizards are.
Children of a sunnier star,
Spirits from beyond the moon,
O, refuse the boon!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Our Poetry Critics
Our poetry critics ageing males on saturday evenings from six to nine
Meet at the literary room of the Lions Club to do what suits them fine
To talk of poetry and poets each to their point of view
Though they agree on one thing that good poets only few.
Well educated gents of course and they could not be rude
But contemporary rhyme poets only poetasters and them they exclude
From their talk of poets and poetry and in their literary knowledge they take pride
And who is or who is not a poet seems their right to decide.
They never talk about bush poets such verse they see as slipshod
And they see them as the children of the lesser poetry god
And for their years in Uni they have their degrees to show
And of poets and of poetry so much they think they know.
To them a poem is not a poem unless it reads like prose
And a ballad different from true verse as a weed is from a rose
And true poets only write for the privileged few that's what they do imply
And never for the ordinary, people like you and I.
Our poetry critics at the Lions they meet on saturday
And who is a good poet and what is a good poem each like to have their say
And if you wish to become a member of their club you must have your Uni Degrees
For if not to them you are not qualified for to talk about poetry.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Respect time!
Respect! Respect!
Time I respect you
Time is of great essence
Respect time
Before it imposes on you a sentence
As if you have committed a crime
Time is precious like a diamond
Time must come first never second
Respect time
For time itself is the sublime
Time never waits
Time decides fates
In time itself you create
The food you eat off your plate
In time itself you love and hate
And find a partner or some mates
Respect time, underrate it not
Don’t say ‘time passed, I forgot’
There is a time to be late
There is a time to debate
There is a time to wait for someone
Before time decides to shorten the fun
Remember time waits for no one
Time also catches up with those on the run
Respect time
The essence of time
Is its continuous presence
And its everlasting absence
And denial of the past tense
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There are two classes of poets - the poets by education and practice, these we respect; and poets by nature, these we love.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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