Best Wordsmith Poems
He welds and melts, pours and molds
In his "Conversations with My Soul"
He smooths the rough steel of syllables
Into a "Portrait" graced by his "Play on Words"
Unrolling "Scenes from a Countryside" to "That Starry Night"
Whether "October Skies" or "In November" "Moonlight"
So, "If Ever I Don't Know"
which way my adjectives should go
when wandering "A Starry Galaxy"
I follow the "Sinuous Melody"
To cross the river and climb the boulder
While tapping "Gently on the Shoulder"
He finds summer in "A Piece of Winter"
As a friend, brother and mentor
He is welcoming, and when reading your poem
His comments are "To You Alone"
And if you come to say
"I Needed Wings Today"
He will weave lines in a "Distinct Ballet"
As if "It Came Upon a Prophecy"
And not from some stifled "Academy"
Dear John, please continue to "Compose"
Even when "Getting Old is Getting Old"
Without your gift
We are "Too Soon Bereft"
The "Verbal Miracles" you perform
Show how "All of Life is a Poem"
You have been my friend
my artistry sibling,
"And I Am Grateful".
12/20/23
Categories:
wordsmith, appreciation, friendship, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Emotionally,
a wordsmith, caregiver, plant tender, embroiderer;
enjoy studying esoteric astrology, being in nature and dancing,
daydream of owning land, living remotely, publishing.
Sadness lives in me over global greed, power thirst, cruelty,
I fear Burger King's king, public speaking, being alone when old;
wish I could promote self-love, peace and forgiveness for all,
resident of the human condition as God's child.
Intuitive ....
Categories:
wordsmith, dream, emotions, fear, identity,
Form:
Bio
"Dark-heaving . . . boundless, endless, and sublime . . ."
Lord Byron 1788-1824
_____________________
I am the wordsmith, guide and editor of this narrative,
this epic chronicle and story of abysmal dream love;
my fingers are ink-stained and worn from writing,
this account of my journey is both tragic and dreadful;
it is a ghost story both poetic and darkly painful.
I awoke one night to find a gossamer shape watching,
it was vague, misty and hovered vapor-like;
the form soon became a phantasmal beautiful man,
ethereal and cloud-born, unworldly and spiritual;
he floated about my bed whispering my name endlessly.
His face was noble with a smile dazzling,
fathomless eyes made me feel so calm and wanted;
when he reached for me I felt glorious and filled with love,
his touch was sublime and he whispered I was his;
at that moment- I was whirling into darkness.
I gasped and realized his skin was corpse-like cold,
oh, was he the spirit of a dead man- an apparition;
a ghostly shadow come the take me to some deathly destination,
but when the specter spoke it was like a warm wave;
washing over my soul and I found my arms embracing him.
All night I lay in his celestial strong arms kissing his lips,
it felt both heavenly and decaying and I had to escape;
I had to leave this divine desire- and this beautiful man,
so with all my strength I pushed, pushed him away;
and his arms became threadlike reaching out for me, reaching.
I woke in the morning in my bed with sun shining brightly,
but my blankets and feet were grave stained with mud;
and I fell back weeping for this love boundless, and endless.
______________________________
May 14, 2019
Poetry/Narrative/I Am The Wordsmith, Guide and Editor
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1144-258-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Epic Ethereal Editor
sponsor, William Kekaula
Second Place
___________________________________
Submitted to FGI Blog Series 20 - Epic
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
Categories:
wordsmith, dark, death, dream, surreal,
Form:
Narrative
You write such pretty words
About a lot of things you feel
The things you write are wonderful
Your words make them sound so real
A magical trip, a fantasy world
So many thoughts and places
You make them sound so very true
One can even see the faces
Without the wonder of your words
Our lives would be so dull
The things you write for us to read
Make our lives so very much more full
Categories:
wordsmith, words, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
contrary to
conformity
finding com
fort in in divi
duality she's
the redhead
in canada
that uses
her words
carefully
and her
pen as
an anvil
knowing
which word
even before
writing it down
what shape it will
take maybe a
razor sharp
blade of
a haiku
katana
or simply
to wait for
the weight
of a twist of
her wrist and
end a poem while
brandishing in hand
a Scots broad sword
but haven't you heard
that a sculptor can
size a marble
stone no
matter
the size
by touch
knowing if
this is where
an arm will be
then all falls into
place proportionately
placing an arm
at arm's length
and the waist not
to waste a single
chip of chisel to take
away the balance of what
figure that is figured out to
be even to the tiniest detail
so as Michelangelo
lay on top of the
stone that he
knew would
become
David
he runs
and rubs
his hands
over what will be
come a young
man's ribs
and down
lower his
mind al
ready
sees
what
people
will talk
about for
centuries
of mankind
and manhood
Categories:
wordsmith, muse,
Form:
His words like a sword
Slice with precision ear to the heart
Samurai warrior to wordsmith
Categories:
wordsmith, poetry, words,
Form:
Haiku
The blacksmith a gunsmith he says he is, therewith aligned with Lilith
Giving birth to death and pestilence, his allegiance is to his conscience, which is
Greed.
See how he and the rhythm of his essence is corrupt,
So allow me to interrupt his rhythm for I am, the brain of the wordsmiths stem
Verbally I strike until I reaches and breeches spinal cord, so let this be a scripted record of how my words can make you bow.
So can you, let alone will you, still go, toe to toe with me, in this
On who is the righteous smith?
Categories:
wordsmith, hip hop, how i
Form:
Free verse
~Luxurious Lady~
(The Wordsmith)
Beautiful beyond belief
Enchantingly enduring ensemble
Autumn again assents
Unleashing unruly uproars
Taciturn tender tendrils
Ideal images impact
Fall, fascinating face
Uncanny, ultra unique
Luscious, luxurious lady
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
October.25.2015
Categories:
wordsmith, autumn, beautiful, beauty, color,
Form:
Free verse
I am a Wordsmith
I love the words I play with
I respect the fith
I am a poet
Sometimes I hardly know it
I try to show it
Five, seven and five
How I make a Haiku jive
It keeps me alive
Then there is the rhyme
All about meter and time
Do you have a dime?
Sometimes I'm a mime
A run on poem's a crime?
It is but sublime
Where's the sense in this?
Where's the pretense for poet's
Like me, there it is...
That does suit sir
Are you absolutely sure?
The suit that you wore?
We're loosing the war
I don't mean to be a bore
Safely at the shore
I never abuse
I dissect he words I use
Make them more obtuse
A wordsmith my friend
Slow to start but fast to end
I have time to spend
Time is on my side
I have time to take a ride
Nowhere left to hide
Bring me my arrows of desire
And bring me my chariot
Of fire to serve sire
Yes, I'm a wordsmith
Pope Wordsmith the Fifty Fith
I need meds forthwith
Meeting of the minds
I don't color in the lines
Where has flown the time?
Sometimes I do rhyme
But don't take that as a sign
Sometimes I do not
October thirteenth
Demise of the Knights Templar
Couldn't be simpler
Give me liberty
Or give me... something to eat!
Said Patrick Henry
Time is running out
Now what am I on about
There's no need to shout
Poet on the run
I do hope your having fun
I've more lines but one
Rhyme the syllable
If you are agreeable
It's not horrible
Oh, It's a mad house!
It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world
For a boy and girl
See what I have done
Demanding your attention
It's all just for fun
How grows your garden?
Be careful where you're fartin'
Benjamin Franklin...
I have no pretense
You've read my run on poem
Sentence by sentence
Ah, one more refrain
Now that you have toured my brain
Can you still be sane?
It's my requiem
My doesn't make sense poem
Bit of funnery
What could you lose on
By reading my confusion
Now it's no use son
But now I but jest
And I've given you my best
So now I must rest
I'll put down my pen
And stop the torture my friend
Now this is the end...?
Categories:
wordsmith, allegory, allusion, analogy, crazy,
Form:
Haiku
Visionary,
I am imaginative, adventuresome, dramatic and funny,
Bob, my hubby I love, writing and birdwatching next,
ideas of mentoring new writers, teaching and dreaming,
feelings of contentment, positivity and hope,
fear of heights, monsters in my closet and being alone,
a bucket list of writing a novel, traveling and antiquing,
a resident of the Potato State,
Wordsmith
Categories:
wordsmith, perspective, visionary, writing,
Form:
Bio
To take a stand and to defend it
A broken vow and try to mend it
A learning line and try to curve it
To beef it up and try to serve it
To fashion out of nothing
So gracefully and grand
Ever surging stream of lire
Flowing from the hand
Appealing thoughts
As one can find
Take two or three
To somehow bind
Cunning ploys
Made to deceive
Compelling tales
To spin and weave
Holding back
Confusion neither
Here nor there
Nor cabin fever
A penny for your roaming thoughts
A dime for all the time that you spend
A dollar for your fortitude
A fortune for your attitude
Have you all sorts of plexing woes?
.. and vindication grand?
Just take it to the Smithy
SHe’ll help you understand
Categories:
wordsmith, philosophy, poems, poetess, poetry,
Form:
Ode
"The Wordsmith"
by: Eric L. Boddie
You only Live once, so do what you choose
He Gave us Free Will....so it's your Life to lose
How is your relationship with God?
And I may not be a Saint, but God Knows I Try
Because He Always Knows The Truth whereas man will tempt you with a lie
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you whose task
Is to promote negativity, I ask
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who will smile in my face
And talk about me in another place
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who go to church on Sunday
And raise hell way before Monday
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who never have a good word to say
Who don't realize that the devil is having his way
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who try to point out my flaws
Who act as if they have never broken His Laws
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who think they are better
Than any other because it was God Who Put us all together
How is your relationship with God?
To those of you who think they can Judge
When That Is Reserved For The One Who Saves Souls With His Blood
How is your relationship with God?
He's Coming Back people....it might just be tonight
How much time is left......right!
How....is your relationship with God?
Please....Pray for me....as I Pray for you....
Categories:
wordsmith, art, bible, blessing, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
”He is a Poet”, It was said of him.
And so they sought in proof a poem, made alone for them.
A tome for all the ages, every eye, and every ear.
Words of witness dedicating prose, to those would hear.
So he complied. Rolled up his muscled sleeve of thought
and pounding words like blacksmith sought, to swing them to his side.
For what is poetry but words, like cattle in stampeded herds,
or formal, business-structured, Oh so neat,
every word and every sentence measured to complete.
Why, he could write for days on end, make poetry, or just pretend,
as long as everything would just combine,
to give the folks their simple endless rhyme.
But this is not a poem, as It has no heart.
True poems come, not on demand, but as with art,
they are created by, an inspirations’ spark;
then guided by one's passion to their universal mark.
For what is poetry but prayer, holy in its plea
to set the heart of every person soaring ever free.
These words… these very words he wrote. He wrote for you;
that you would know the beauty in the moments shared, so few.
He could not give more love to you, than you already own;
if he might open all the hearts and souls of angels shone.
He could not add one ounce to all the joy you might allow
within each heartbeat, where we hear, the voice of God somehow.
A voice that whispers to us all, the word we need to grow,
"Love", the only word, a poets’ heart need ever know.
Categories:
wordsmith, identity, jobs, literature, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
Wordsmith
Dendrites playing.
Firing. Laughing. Collecting.
Excited. Glad to Remember.
Wordsmith.
Categories:
wordsmith, power, write,
Form:
Cinquain
read her while sipping my morning cuppa
'tween news bytes and clock chimes-
I found myself in her words and wept
as I imagined honey dripping from her
lips whilst she read aloud each cherished verse
bringing back to my mind a song I once knew
singing my life with her words
killing me softly
killing me softly
it was then that i realized that this vain
life that i lived had meaning, for her
words were balms of healing to me 'neath
a starry sky filled with both beauty and pain
and I knew from that moment on
that my world would never be the same
As in this world my mind does fall
'neath evergreens of zephyr's dance
midst echoes endless come to call
and posy dreams now set to chance
These words of written complex feel
‘pon verses painted paisley flow
her ink now drips like molten steel
‘twixt softer reach of moonbeam'd glow
Of turnstile motions, spinning ‘round
my head now dazed though not confused
of every sorted page once found
along a path her thoughts infused
As Hepburn smiles Chantilly lace
I find there ‘neath this photo’d frame
emotions plead in wished for grace-
my world shall never be the same
read her once while sipping my morning cuppa-
my life has never been quite the same
Categories:
wordsmith, tribute,
Form:
Free verse