Wordsmith Poems - Poems about Wordsmith

The Wordsmith - Apr 4, 5

Yes! day and night, inside my roaring shop,
pounding my heavy hammer ceaselessly 
against the hardened anvil Poetry,
I ply tough steel into a pleasant shape.

Working words cleansed of cheap and easy trope
which would debase my art’s due quality,
I craft a blade, or else a spade, to be
the prying prod of clever penmanship.

But sometimes, in the silence

Digital Whispers

Truth drowns in pixels, one click at a time
While falsehoods spread faster than summer wildfire
We scroll and we swipe, consuming the lies
Each share button pressed makes deception rise higher
They dress it in headlines that scream to be read
Package poison in posts that are perfectly spread
Algorithm-approved, bot-amplified.

Until, fiction feels realer than what's verified
"Did you hear?" they

Tight lines taut

A poet who fishes, wishes for tight lines
with fish hooked, caught and ready to play.
The poet wishes for taut-line inspiration
while whiling away the hours of solitude
in the quiet peaceful wilderness
waiting for a nibble or bite.

For there can be no better place to go
and no time better spent,
by a poet who fishes,
than to enjoy the wait

Word-Slinging

The wordsmith’s art is a game of chance,
Where meanings dance and ideas trance.
A deft hand wields the pen with grace
A subtle symphony, a nimble chase.

From arcane whispers, and secrets told,
To audacious strokes, both bold and old.
An amiable muse, with a gentle heart,
Inspiring words that tear apart.

A clandestine plot, a cunning scheme,
With boisterous laughs and jovial

WORDSMITH

Science they say
Is discovery
Poetry a craft
Properly put 
An industrial Art
A genre of creative Art
But wherein
Is the place of the Muse
And wherein
Is the place of the Wordsmith…
In everything
And on a daily basis
I eternally thank God
That
Ohwojevwe Ese Ganiyu
Is a wordsmith
Divinely given 
to mankind
by our creator

a jabber jack wordsmith

job
wordsmith
a jabber jack
juggles juicy jargon
jagged

The Wordsmith

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

RYHME UNTO ME PRIOR-Appeal Reveal Wordsmith ZEAL PRAISE OF OLE' WILLIAM SHAKESPARE-

Lo, Oh poet of mine admire;
Speak to the fire;
Converse open flame thine heart dire;

Arch-poet, ballad maker compose lovely lyric rhyme unto me prior;
 Ballad singer, balladeer voice still cry;

I ballad monger, idolize beat poet, bucoliast, elegist shy; 
Fair epic poet, folk singer gleeman,  journey lands,
 Idyllist speak unto me emerald skies;

Imagist, jongleur, laureate recite

Apothecary of Wordsmith Dreamscapes

My sleep is disrupted, badgered
by incessant wordplay,
a thesaurus of woolgathering
in semi-conscious dreams.
I keep a voice recorder,
bedside, to record the tidbit morsels
Lest they're forgotten
when I awaken and make bread
from the crumbs dropped
on my passage through the night.
The poet's worst nightmare is that
the crumbs will be eaten by crows
or carried away by ants in the night,
so the

Wordsmith Theoretician Postulates Kooky Equation

Addends, minuend, subtrahends... all Greek
to poor student long haired pencil necked freak.

Damned (internal) revenue stream
plus plugged egress
equals flood of woe
torturous suffocation
of biosphere quite slow
particularly concerning one
Norwegian bachelor farmer from Oslo
amidst the bajillions of people,
one common Joe
(cur) just biden his time

pleading to acquire
much needed dough,
attorney General assistant Lynne Costello
sought out to help yours truly
(to no avail)
hoof

A Riddle a Wordsmith

You try to teach but don’t listen,
talking all over me again;
Threw up that riddle
from a high pedestal;
Tossed it to a wordsmith, I win.

Wordsmith

Suddenly he is gone
His words unspoken
And, more sadly, 
Unwritten

Some said he’d been a preacher
He could certainly hold a crowd
Teasing them and pleasing them
As he spoke his words aloud
A painter of word pictures
Spoken with verve and style
With asides and interjections
Every random once in a while

A spoken word performer
One of that select band
Who could hold an audience
In

The Wordsmith

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

The Poet

”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

Poetry Pondered: For One In the Art Thereof

A Wordsmith’s pen
Is mightier than the sword
For he can turn a tricky word
Into a verbal weapon
And win the day against the hoard
The words of the Bard
It’s not very hard
The turn of a friendly card
The changing of the old guard
The wicked witch is feathered and tarred
The sky above is dark and starred
It’s feeling out loud	
The dancing

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