A virtual
world of
friends
connected by
our writing
threads
Bards brood, thoughts crowd
Rhythm glued, sing loud
Once there is no romance
No passion,
No impulse,
It will be no spark in a poem;
Once there is no true understanding
No wisdom,
No reason,
It will be no content in a poem;
Even if a poem has all them
If no one reads it,
It will fade
And die
I love discovering new poets so I click the new user link a lot
There are so many feelings on a page, lest that I’ve forgot
I feel excitement as I read the new one’s first line or two
Trying to find something positive, wanting to encourage too
If the poem is about sex or cutting, I stop reading it right away
They will find the readers, but I will not be one of them, okay?
If it is about suicide, I will skip that one also, believe me.
These kinds of subjects take away my happy energy.
If the poet is a beginner their rhymes may sound like a forced jot
I overlook this, knowing they’ll get better, experience does a lot.
I write something upbeat and exciting, to encourage poets who are new.
For when I began writing poetry, this was done for me by many of you.
I want to hear your voice
Not by will but by choice
I seek your guidance
For on you alone is where
I place my reliance,
Alliance, radical defiance.
I want to hear your voice
Above all voices that ever pieced
My ear I seek your final word what
Is it your declare?
I wish to hear your voice
To calm the turmoil of inner
dialogue and rumination.
I want to hear your voice,
the divine melody that guides my footsteps
Your words are the calm to all storms
Protection from external devastation.
I want to hear your voice
A light house and beacon
among all dark forces that
may come against me.
I want to hear your voice, the gentle thunder
that awakens my soul from slumber,
I want to hear your voice calling me to purpose beyond the noise of this world.
I want to hear your voice, the sacred song that resonates
in the silence of my heart,
I want to hear your voice reminding me I am never alone,
That within your words I find my true home
SOUP TROUPE (CM)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
peer group, Soup group
write verse, scribe troop
Ah my friends please lend an ear,
I have a secret I must share.
When the sun goes down at night
and the moon is in full sight,
I dim the lights, turn off the phone,
slip into bed, but not alone.
For when I crawl between the sheets
it is with Byron, Shelley, and Keats.
Shelley makes me a wanton soul,
ever playing the lover's role.
When I'm wrapped in Byron's prose
the fervor penned curls my toes.
I'm up 'til the stars are at sleep.
Keats words of beauty make me weep.
I have this need I can't deny
that makes me keep a poet nigh.
When I close the book at last
there are no shadows to be cast.
For I have wiled away the hours
enthralled with the poet's powers.
The soul is his home,
detachment an intruder.
He is like a street dog
who sees rainbows.
A slate reflects life;
emotion exposed by a pen.
Pain and beauty cut deep.
No bandage can heal;
only words can complete.
My heart longs to have a poet
Willing to write with me a duet.
TAKING ROOT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A field of snow before the first footprint.
My hand hovers, a hesitant bird
above the frozen ground.
What seeds to scatter here?
What thaw to coax from the barren space?
A word takes root.
Another follows, tentative, green shoots
pushing through the icy crust.
It unfurls, tentative,
a fragile bloom pushing through concrete,
nourished by doubt and desire.
The pen, a conduit,
trembling at first, then finding its rhythm,
a dance between intention and impulse.
The page surrenders,
accepting the ink's embrace,
the birth of something new,
A poem emerges, breathing,
where only emptiness resided before.
By Poet "The computer is the delivery room for a new poem."
Pen, ink and paper join forces,
Opening up a wonderful story.
Everyone will enjoy reading,
My dancing words are now a poem.
A point of time alone I mark,
And shine it best I may,
And plant brave flowers upon the way,
Before I must embark.
Common may be handsome, common may
be nice -- but common, as a common spice,
the pallet becomes less excited. And thrice
no more appealing than twice. Think of
your love as special. Think of your love as sacred.
See me in your perfect prayers, and may God, think,
of me~ as your soulmate perfect.
A song is a poem
With rhythms and rhymes
It would be a blasphemy
Not to say it and explain it.
A song is a prose
Put on pause
Intermittently
With various beats and tempos.
A song makes you dance
A poem makes you dream
And a prose helps us examine.
A poem is a classical prose
With harmonic words
And well-calculated rhymes and verses
A poem is really fantastic.
A song makes you live
A poem makes you revive
And a prose helps us survive.
Copyright © December 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Written for the prompt Rose Moon 15 - 25 words set by Poets Island via Instagram
Eclipsed hips part, unearthing
a rose moon in bloom,
opal sighs glimmer,
ruby heat spills, sitting
bodies ablaze in molten embrace.
Specific Types of Poets Poems
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Definition | What is Poets in Poetry?
Poems Related to Poets
artist, author, balladist, bard, dramatist, lyricist, lyrist, metrist, odist, parodist, rhapsodist, sonnetist, writer