En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The world is a stage
Said Will, the bald poet
You forgot your lines

haiku by Eddie Roa
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A Poet Became His Own Poetry

A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY

A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.

A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am A Poet Of Short Lines

I am a poet of short lines-
Of lines that are phrases,
Of lines that are small and broken-

I am a poet of short lines-
Of impatience and small breath,
Of hurrying and not taking time-

I am a poet of short lines-
Of condensation and conciseness,
Of maximum meaning in minimum space-

I am a poet of short lines
Short ones.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Poet Without A Poem/ Empty and Desperate

A POET WITHOUT A POEM

A poet without a poem
Empty and desperate
Forces a few lines
As way of reviving himself.

The lines lead to other lines
A poem begins to come.

The poet hears his hope as he writes
And then when there is a poem
He just rests happily
Knowing he is alive again.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poem about Poetry - what is not poetry

writing lines
not like a child
writing lines
robotlike
hitting at keys
rather than own heart
writing lines
throwing words
which are yet
our friends
words picked
from thesaurus
dictionaries
for word's sake
an alley of prostitutes
we treat as our wives
godless
writing as if
the world
possesses
no soul and
god, the real poet
who spares symbols
for his creation
trees, lightning,
thunder
for poets
to colour their world
to see the other side
of the world
how the trees, lightning
thunder
are a part of men
themselves
described,
the trees - spring of youth
lightning - rage
thunder - warning
the warming effect
god's verse to men's uncaring verse
misinterpretation of his symbols
god the leading poet
the world a repository of symbols
for his masterpiece
a masterpiece
we could only admire
the real poet leaves us
something to ponder about
and to add a verse or two
to his work
like the almighty poet
who when he likes
answers us back
in riddles

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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How

I want to be a great poet
But how I forgot word sentence
Letter grammer so on and so on.
I want to say my story your story
But how I forgot the home the body
land water air sky fire so on and so on.
I do not want to be here at this moment
But how I forgot to live in the playground
With the children with the buds of garden.
I do not to go anywhere at any point of time
But how I forgot to explain the reason
That are within that I have not done.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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 Poet Fears Failure

The poet fears failure
& so she says
"Hold on pen--
what if the critics
hate me?"
& with that question
she blots out more lines
than any critic could.

The critic is only doing his job:
keeping the poet lonely.
He barks
like a dog at the door
when the master comes home.

It's in his doggy nature.
If he didn't know the poet
for the boss,
he wouldn't bark so loud.

& the poet?
It's in her nature
to fear failure
but not to let that fear
blot out

her lines.

poem by Erica Jong
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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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All Day Long/I Have Been Walking And Thinking

ALL DAY LONG / I HAVE BEEN WALKING AND THINKING

All day long
I have been walking and thinking
Trying to write a poem.

And the lines are not lines
And the poem is not a poem
And the poet is not a poet.

And as the Jerusalem winter wind
Quickens my soul
And the sun flashes at me
The beauty of this world,
I know I have wasted my life
On what was beyond me.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Scholars

BALD heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.
All shuffle there; all cough in ink;
All wear the carpet with their shoes;
All think what other people think;
All know the man their neighbour knows.
Lord, what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way?

poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Poet Overwhelmed

THE POET OVERWHELMED

The poet overwhelmed
By the momentary beauty of the world –
Stops -
And writes his little lines
In the Morning Light.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Basically, they had asked me if I would shave my head or wear a bald cap. I said look, if you are doing a series for five years I would want to shave my hair because I would go bald with all the gum and glue from the bald cap.

quote by Persis Khambatta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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If you really wish to know the poets

If you wish
to understand poets
If you wish
to know what’s in their minds

Then you must read
their poetry
But you must also read
between the lines

For The most revealing lines
a poet writes about himself
Are the ones…
not written upon the wall

Unwritten yes…but hints abound in…
can be found in
Choice of subject…And choice of title
About the poet…tells us all

poem by David Whalen
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Being A Poet

being a poet
is not an ambition

it is ironic
that i do poetry and

yet i do not want
to be called a poet

nor be identified with
any movement in poetry

nor take the challenge and opportunity
of being crowned by laurel leaves

and be dragged on the stage of
an island of light focusing my head and body

and they shall all clap and say
this is the poet, this is our poet

not in the figment of my imagination
not an ambition not a profession not a career in the field of literature
to be a poet on a certain degree

you see, i live in a crowded universe
i am a fish in the sea of people

and i, never imagine once in my whole life
that i will be swimming so meaninglessly in the corridors

of this vast ocean of men and mice and snakes
and goats and pigs and eagles

poetry is what i do but i am not a poet
this poet, that poet
their poet

the reason is here inside my heart
this is my place &
this is my only chance to be alone

to be myself to be human again for out there
i, we, you have become pillars
and dams.and walls and continental shelves

it is only here in this spot
that i become my island

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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Goodbye

Digging a hole down in your room
I watched you disappear too young, too soon
And you run out of stories to keep them entertained
All of the vampires forgot your name
You forgot why you came here today
And so you ran away
I said bye bye bye
When the world has passed you by
I will never forget your name
Do you know why?
Millions of people know what you did
But when it hit ya, you ran and hid
From the money and muscle
The rules of the game
They bought your face boy
They bought your name
You forgot why you came here today
And so you ran away
I said bye bye bye
When the world has passed you by
I will never forget your name
Do you know why?
You forgot why you came here today
And so you ran away
I said bye bye bye
When the world has passed you by
I will never forget your name
Do you know why?
I said bye bye bye
When the world has passed you by
I will never forget your name
Do you know why?

song performed by by Fastball
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Siege

Your love threw me
In the land of wonders.
It took me by surprise
From my neck
While I was
At my preferred café,
At my preferred table,
While I was teasing my poems,
While my poems were teasing me.
I forgot my preferred café
And I forgot my preferred table
I forgot my poems
I forgot whom I was teasing
And who was teasing me.
.
Your love surprised me
While I was reading my hand
For luck
And fate.
I forgot my hand,
I forgot my luck,
And I forgot my fate.

Your love invaded me
the same way a tsunami
Invaded the moon
In its ecliptic wedding
With the sun.
I woke up weak
Thirsty,
And thirty million light years faraway
From my birth galaxy.
I forgot the moon,
I forgot the sun,
I forgot the wedding
And I forgot my birth galaxy.

Your love surprised me
Like the Christ surprised the ancient world
I forgot Christ
And I forgot the ancient world.

poem by Atef Ayadi
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