Wordsmith Poems - Poems about Wordsmith

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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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 ...

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job wordsmith a jabber jack juggles juicy jargon jagged...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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....

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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...

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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...

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”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...

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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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