Poets and Poems | Examples of Poems for Poets

ADRIFT AT SEA sea-worn bottle, bobs on a digital tide. inside, not parchment brittle with ocean’s brine, but luminous lines of light, coded in metaphors and rhyme. message tossed into the sea. unknown sender, no harbor designated, no destination on any map. it drifts, an abandoned, forlorn vessel, across oceans of indifference, until… a seacoast appears, unsummoned, unexpected. my eyes, the sand. my mind, the beach. I pick it up, this delicate...

Continue reading...

"A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language." (W. H. Auden) They sit in their glass-paneled chambers, these judges, tuning their ears to the hum of silicon— eyebrows raised at every metaphor too deft, too dressed, too drenched in sense. Who wrote this? they ask, tapping screens that blink like oracles but lie like...

Continue reading...

I'm lover not a fighter, me spilling exclamations instead of blood, its what I resamble, the ink in my viens that paints not images but setting reactions on the loose. Please! blame me not, creativity is access, mean not to invade but i'm without bearings, this din in my words, put flames to my surrounding, ...

Continue reading...

Wailing for her demon lover, Coleridge had it right A masterful poet, his words are ominous, not light. Did he have his own sweet love? Was she a secret too? Gothic ideas of mystery swirl around my brain in blue. Coleridge was a master; his work keeps me on the edge. His imagery on the brink of pushing me just...

Continue reading...

Love wins, with all the bliss, it sailed in and gave me a kiss. The kiss was wet and came as a shock, it hit like a lightning bolt. Like a spark, it hit my heart, making me feel like I had a heart attack. Love can show up any time, it can come, straight out...

Continue reading...

I've always been drawn to poetry Robert Frost writes my favorite one I've tried to be just as magnificent But my words don't match what he's done I have wrote touching beautiful words That fill hearts with different emotion Depending on the words and their use My words will touch you proving their notion I want you to...

Continue reading...

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...

Continue reading...

strong and loud, of cobblestone made - I won’t become some cheap concrete grade...

Continue reading...

It's no surprise that I'm back here looking out over the river, painting thoughts, dripping memories, smearing streaks of the here and now across the canvas of a dull, overcast day. There was a time when I had ambitions to be an artist, high school dreams of a life in smoke filled studios, tee shirts and paint splattered Levi jeans. ( A la Jackson Pollock ) Fate...

Continue reading...

i ask everything to never be the blood spilled on your beautiful pages written with your beautiful hands...

Continue reading...

/ "Like Open-Mic Explosions from the End of Language". ~ Chat-GPT / _____ Madmen leaked a rash of sky-blue puddle; fatally cloistered the hat-flu's hubble - To wit: - the half-time half-life smile of she and the other half-wonder of me. Far far ready to say maybe to love; moved in half-dream to plumb half-baked memories. ("But weren't their novel 'dogs-of-war' and lovely...

Continue reading...

Truth is not for everyone -- some prefer lies...some prefer dyes, and not natural soul color. Some prefer love~ and some just mouth the word...never to be heard nor felt deeply nearer the heart. It's like that with most things, the prose and cons of openly living as opposed to falsely revealing: Some contrive a story-line, while other authors...

Continue reading...

Multiple are handles they use, perhaps a mere whim, yet a ruse, which patterns of the mind betray, of scents which from their ink so ooze. We smile and let them have their way, as masks they don to make their day, until the time their soul’s stripped bare, which is when they sit down to pray. Egos are strange, handle with care for...

Continue reading...

how can heartless conjure magic meant to be bled by a broken heart? A/N: For the Monoku contest Why I Abhor AI Generated Poems....

Continue reading...

Old weeping willow why do you cry Your beauty is green leaves not blue Your roots a pillow from which to thrive As Mother Nature’s sun smiles on you Many a kid has used your brown branches To climb you or swing in your shadowy shade Many a poet you inspire romantic antics Carving heart in your bark or writing on page Your...

Continue reading...