Short Editor Poems
Short Editor Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Editor by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Editor by length and keyword.
Penelope had a defiant high chest
Was it real? Many wanted to test.
She ignored men.
Outstudied them.
Became editor of Science Digest.
St Louis-born Marianne Moore
began poetics a 'The Dial' editor
In metrical patterns her verse brought fame
medal &prizes & much acclaim
Checking each link in the chain
it would be easier with a pen;
The click clack of typos;
I hope that no one knows
my editor coughed again.
Cliché is my editor’s only
enemy. He lives, entirely
his own life, upon the sea
of muses where this C-
word is not to be
used by any
editor
just like
me
Paris Angels
"Paris Angels", new title of
a monthly magazine,
and models making up to suit.
(The editor pays them extra to wear wings.)
9/3/2017
Editor Who Had A Crediter
Evidently there once was an editor;
Extremely cautious about creditor;
Was an exhibition,
Of some sedition;
He appeared on page as a predator.
Jim Horn
Oh editor are you?
Stake not your holy mark
You red pen though inclined
No critics... do embark
Better join with me
In holy food be fed
that we might join together and find
the joyous triumphs bed
The world your editor,
each season your pen
Heartache your publisher,
verse to amend
Days left to punctuate,
nights misconstrued
Memory the binding
—time as the glue
(Dreamsleep: April, 2020)
And through that door is the morgue
The editor said, motioning toward
an unassuming, flat-black, painted door
“Do you want to see it?”
The wanna-be journalists from high school
Began shaking their heads ‘no’.
To wit, the editor
the murderer’s axe
To slay the innocent
with sharp attack
To wit, the editor
last drop of blood
Now drained and syphoned
—in victimhood
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Editor edits
News Gazette called " Elephant "
In Helen ville.
Written for poetry contest sponsored
by Constance la France
Carolyn Devonshire, it has been said
Was always on time until she was dead
“She was never late before,”
Confirmed her old editor
As from her tombstone epitaph he read
*Entry for Poet Destroyer’s “Slick Limerick” contest
“Seven reasons your novel won’t sell!”
You “a writer that’s had” your work quelled?
A writer that’s had?
Now, that’s pretty sad;
I’d say eight, but these days, one can’t tell!
----------
SMH: ads popping up on my Facebook feed...
The purple lands
reading the daily papers
following others leads
A message from your editor
The Sunshine is low
the air rarefied
but every friend is now your enemy
no matter the end
and the rest is mere interest
across some arcane wind
A Profound Predator
Predicated then produced and perfected a profound predator,
Who of a naughty, neurotic newspaper was a unique editor;
We were quaking;
Identity mistaken;
Turned out to be a humbling, bumbling, cute and cuddly creditor.
Jim Horn
He publishes poems
by writers who find
no publishers elsewhere.
They suffer rejection
and he gives them hope.
Some improve
and some do not.
But hope isn't always
the best thing.
It’s not hopeful to tell
a child with clubfoot
to take ballet.
Donal Mahoney
The Poetry Journal
Sent my first electronic rejection slip.
Enjoyed reading my work
But the inaugural issue is full and are
Unable to publish my poetry…they say.
The Editor wishes me luck.
After reading his work,
Wish him as well.
Right now,
Feeling proud
Like Bukowski.
How do you feel about anger?
Does it feel good
like other passions?
Is it a friendly device
like a sharpened axe
to shape the hardwood?
Can one be
forgiven for it?
When I hold
anger in my mind's hand,
I cut through ropes,
jam smooth
uneven walls.
It vibrates hard
like a rifle butt.
Listen to poem:
A neverending compulsion.
The more space you have,
the more you want to fill it up.
Just take "uu" from "vacuum"
and add it to "continue",
"mm".
=============
“I think humans have a natural desire to fill empty spaces”
Will Shortz, New York Times, Crosswords Editor
=============
i'm the editor
of your movie
clipping out
takes to take
you home
with me
leaving
splices
for the
public
to see
that you
are the
star that
you are
but a star
is a sun
and
truth
knows
you are
the moon
in your
fullness
from the
other side
your hips
turn me
into a
lunatic
Form:
I shall write while I rest
amid the faint hues channeled
by a functioning heart bottled
to perfection during the tranquil
lessons a masterpiece unfolds
the infamous characters bonded
beyond the galleries of distant carny
and Gothic folklores tampered above
a shattered notion of writers block
journalism is objective by law
the decrease in legible statements is mathematically irrelevant to peaceful assembly
disruption of legislation is against the law.
how to correct young journalists? no press pass, press pass is test for editor to observe through french general assembly window if ink should be awarded.
E-xceptional
L-ine
I-s
Z-estfully
A-llowing
B-rilliant
E-ditor
T-o
H-ave
B-road
A-ptitude
R-egarding
R-ighteous
E-xpression
T-ill
T-ruth
B-rightens
R-eaders
O-f
W-ise
N-ote
I-n
N-oble
G-oal
Topic: Birthday of poetess Elizabeth Barrett Browning (March 06)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Only an oblique ray of sun
Applauded my soliloquy.
It shattered a wired window
(In a last desperate attempt
To stay above the night rim)
As my voice echoed
Around the walls and
A phantom crowd
Remained silent.
[First published in The Poet, Fine Arts Society, Doris Nemeth, Editor, Autumn 1980.]
June 30, 2021 Poetry Soup
S see me the invisible
T the true should be heard
E exposed for the world to be
T ………………………….
A and tra la la my friends
R roar the smell of a dollar
F for ashes are not yours
P put trash in the bin
U urge your needs
R row the boat
R rescue the editor for his mistake