Poet Poems - Poems about Poet

I'M a Poet Listen! I'm a poet,cause I'm got many hurts From them ,never want to lose So, I leave false dirts. And pick up pen to express, Never abuse them , I write to their happiness, Pray, with saying their name. Alright,I don't love like a poet, I'M a poet who loves you! And that love more great Than a poet whom know you. Remember! loyalty exist...

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Black poet by Adejola Joseph Black poet His skin is black but his heart is white His tongue is honey and his hand is spirit He is a mirror of reality The reflection and shadows of things to come He is the revelation of the Providence The truth untold for ages He is black Powerful Strong Bold Dynamic Iconic Principled Honest Disciplined and charismatic Black poet...

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The tortured soul will never let go When off the tongue the words will roll At all hours never knowing when inspiration will hit Thoughts running wild, then bridled with a bit When ruminating on your bed Tossing around words that rhyme in your head All the rights that are wronged Need to be corrected and not prolonged So you fight in the...

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With nothing but a jawbone, I unhinge the night, let silence die— book of broken psalms, toothless songs of what was right, of what went wrong beneath the hush of watchful sky. No prize, no game, no lullaby— just marrow's oath and blood gone dry. I didn’t mean to last this long with nothing but a jawbone. Still, blood remembers how to lie, to shape...

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Let us think not only of instrument and music though a poem sort of a dance let is think not only of voice and cadence though a poem also a trance let us not think let us not think for mind has an echo compounding the same I adhere to conduit mystery taking no credit nor blame --...

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Always the cheerleader Never the star player Always the sanctuary Never fully safe Always a poet Never a poem Always a romantic Never ‘the one’ Always smiling Never at peace Always sleeping Never fully rested Always trying Never enough Always an option Never a favorite Always a friend to all Never had a true friend Always hating myself Never truly hating others Always here to stay Never been stayed for Always begging for empathy Never understood Always terrified Never...

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"Thoughts must not be stifled; they need tears, an outlet, a sigh, words." ...

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To take a thought and shape a poem Takes patience, and a clue – The patience for the diligence Required of a muse The clue for clever subtleties Engaging poets use To form connections yet unformed Reveal with clarity The mysteries that men have known Throughout the centuries Unraveled with apparent ease In fonts of industry – To trace the riddle of a thought Decrypt it...

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Have you any pride Why must you use AI Poets submitting honestly Are the ones deserving to compete I look at the AI detector results And shake my head at insult If your goal was to get published Don’t use AI it is detected rubbish!!!!...

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In the eyes of society, the poet is dead, and the only one unaware is the poet himself, Because his vanity binds him to verses like an invisible thread, a thread of destiny, He writes his words on the sky of memories, unaware that they are merely shadows, Shadows of a changed reality, where poetry no longer sings...

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the poet makes a big meaning in few lines the poster makes small meaning in many lines the writer knows when to make it short or long...

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I sit and ponder, allow my mind to wander And wonder about what I ponder Then put pen to paper, begin to scratch and scribble Hoping endless hoping that someone will read my dribble And then reading perhaps exclaim “This poem deserves acclaim” crickets Ahh, what’s a poet to do But ponder through and through Then wander further afar Find a wonder so bizarre And purchase...

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Wandering in the corridors of my heart Somewhere in a mystical part I came across a curious door But It felt like the life's core It was decorated with joyful lights Which had brighten my dark sight On opening the door, the new world emerge I entered it as my heart urge After entering I...

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Once upon a dreary time A boy set out to note a rhyme Pen in hand with paper lined Prepared he was to share his mind But thoughts lay barren and confined Without sense, reason, or rhyme Suffered he did this weary time Both his soul and cheerless mind His eyes grew dark, his face grew lined And tho he sought to redesign Something, anything...

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(Begin: There is no beginning.) (O' my--not again--you should not have started.) The quill burrows. No--splinters. No--fractures. No--was never here. Ink spills--no--veins spill--no--veins collapse--no--veins rewrite. The vowels--black-lipped--no--the ink coagulates--the ink tightens--the ink breathes- acrid, metallic, it stings the tongue. Teeth in the--grain. Teeth in the letters. Teeth in me--no--teeth in you--no--teeth in the mirror- splinters in the gum's raw edge. (First...

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