Critic Poems - Poems about Critic

1.) Gutter bed for a hope held ransom, Three bottles opened, Drunk reflections of my mirror got me feeling handsome. Can’t go a day. I can’t go a day without a glass handful of rum. Funny how these bottles got me feeling hopeless, Random thought but my problems are the only ways I know to start...

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He used to take his lectures with a cigarette and a blindfold. Can you publish a single sentence? Didn’t work for James won’t work for me choclate sorbet sunday in the pipe playing old mexican sweat from an old tube amp and how’s that for a sonnet? Close but no dice this ain’t horse shoes and you ain’t no hand gernade ten stone gained while im ten stones...

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Dripples When many drops SPLASH in a puddle and mottles the reflection Mappelled When geolocation plots or PINGS you in the...

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Roger Ebert was a consumate wrter and movie critic. Internationally and in Chicago, where we met after the Chicago Riots. Each New years Eve, all his friends and to his famed, New Years Eve Party…. He went out of his way to see we all were treated more than well in I learned from Roger, that people’s hearts came first. What...

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It's a Myth until it's Acheived He doesn't take what he's doing seriously. he goes in with a script: he's going to do what he has planned, not taking into account that people are watching him and his opponent is watching him feeling the strength of his blows and feeling him tiring. He telegraphs moves and moves around like he's done know thing to...

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The Poetry Critic We have ourselves a critic on poem of the day Like being a good parent, it’s not quite his forte I think what we’re seeing is a little Vulcan blood His words are illogical and they drag through the mud Some call him a king as they walk hand in hand They should start reading the lyrics of...

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No matter what you’re trying to say, be it in your poetry or song. There’s still going to be an expert, who’ll tell you that you’re doing it wrong. I think maybe there is something skewed, going on in their philosophy. I wonder what makes them the expert, on what my poetry means to me....

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That is what I tell Joyce: She's got a world's free choice To fasten words of praise On a thing without base Or take a snake's poise Raising a critic's voice... Over rubbish rejoice Like she'd done as free Joyce Because she had the choice To make an impure noise Yet, it shall count later One failed a life better: Spoke no healing letter... Caged self with fetter....

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Edgar Alan Poe Is dead. Seriously, I read it. He died in October 1849 - or did he? Do we really know? Poe wrote about death a lot, he teased with it, it was his favorite tool. He kept death close and twisted it like a knife. His profession was the macabre, the shadow, the summoned dread and the gruesome aftermath. He was...

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Harsh self critic please resign Everyone else rates me just fine You have outstayed your welcome I don't know you're coming from I don't need a reminder to feel guilty today It's something I was doing anyway Keep advice and negative thoughts to yourself You are starting to impact on my health If I was to score myself on a tick sheet The...

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My brother, one year younger and an athlete of some note, once found my private notebook, seeing poetry I wrote. Before that day I fancied that my writing held some unction; I worked to craft each poem so to serve a noble function. I'd rather hoped each one would stir its reader's soul profoundly, but brother claims their value lies ...

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That is a persnickety pussycat someone said. She eats daintily with forethought, fork close to her head. She wields a knife in the best technique of all. Stabbing her fish with pizzazz and timely gall. She is a food critic, she has wily wide ways. Tasting our kibble and bits with tartar sauce glaze. We see her doing it, and...

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Singing to dog she bites me music critic...

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I Do you connect with struggling writers Would you know it Harry the Weaver, poet Graces communities, fraternities, (Sororities, too?) II To have someone read your scraps of work Going back as far as is feasible prince HH reads closely, generously With the gentleness of weavers, Care, calmness, goodness - fruit of the Spirit Makes it tolerable to wait to be heard Pleasure to be respectfully read To...

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Fragrance of words I’m, who are you? Romance of lines brought in from blue, Make words dance in rhythm, Cut out noise in freedom, A poet asked: so, what’s your view? I wield a sword vibrant of hue, A species that poems review, A slayer called critic, I tick ye off, one tic, I work...

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