Wordsmith Poems | Examples

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 of sorrow,
my forge sits still, uncluttered and unmanned.
My arduous tasks exhaust me, and I say
“Let what labour’s left be done tomorrow!”—
For when my mind and vision wallow bland,
It’s best to rest and recover for a day.

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 a while,
to catch fish and words,
with lines tight and taut.

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 gleam.
Words ebb and flow, a vibrant tide,
Capricious, and whimsical, they cannot hide.

Some dance with flair, with eloquent might,
While others fade, ephemeral in the light.
An egregious error, a poignant plea,
An insidious plot, a symphony.

We seek the luminous, the serendipitous find,
A moment of joy, to soothe the mind.
With cunning wit and a sly remark,
A raucous laugh, a playful spark.

Through boisterous humdingers, and shenanigans,
A wistful sigh, or a sweet, mawkish stance.
The playwright’s art, a dance so grand,
A poignant twist, with a skilful hand.

Let us savour this exquisite game,
Where words intertwine, an artful flame.
So open your heart, let language soar,
The play of words, forever!

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 the "Sinuous Melody"
To cross the river and climb the boulder
While tapping "Gently on the Shoulder"

He finds summer in "A Piece of Winter"
As a friend, brother and mentor
He is welcoming, and when reading your poem
His comments are "To You Alone"
And if you come to say
"I Needed Wings Today"
He will weave lines in a "Distinct Ballet"
As if "It Came Upon a Prophecy"
And not from some stifled "Academy"

Dear John, please continue to "Compose"
Even when "Getting Old is Getting Old"
Without your gift
We are "Too Soon Bereft"
The "Verbal Miracles" you perform
Show how "All of Life is a Poem"

You have been my friend
my artistry sibling,
"And I Am Grateful".

12/20/23

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 toss the voice bell righteous ringer;
 Librettist, major poet, maker, Meistersinger, minnesinger;
Best-loved favored treasured vocal
closest to one's heart preferred chosen

Sightseer mishear appeal reveal wordsmith zeal
Mimic speak life Celtic minstrel bard of Avon, Shakespeare!



12/12/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Bard Poetry

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 way back to recall
the thought trail is lost
and the poem will never
see the light of day,
and will never be crafted.
Any loss of these dream-let gems
is so frustrating and intolerable
to a poet, forever on the hunt
for magical meaningful words
beyond the hocus-pocus
of abracadabra in dreamscape thoughts,
and images, that pop into my head when dreaming.

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 palm of his hand
A raconteur and humorist
A veritable bright spark
Love his work or loathe it
But he certainly left his mark

Now suddenly he is gone
His words unspoken
And, more sadly,
Unwritten

Rest In Peace

Emotionally Intuitive

Emotionally,
a wordsmith, caregiver, plant tender, embroiderer;
enjoy studying esoteric astrology, being in nature and dancing,
daydream of owning land, living remotely, publishing.
Sadness lives in me over global greed, power thirst, cruelty,
I fear Burger King's king, public speaking, being alone when old;
wish I could promote self-love, peace and forgiveness for all,
resident of the human condition as God's child.
Intuitive ....

Bio Modified - Visionary Wordsmith

Visionary,
I am imaginative, adventuresome, dramatic and funny,
Bob, my hubby I love, writing and birdwatching next, 
ideas of mentoring new writers, teaching and dreaming,
feelings of contentment, positivity and hope,
fear of heights, monsters in my closet and being alone,
a bucket list of writing a novel, traveling and antiquing, 
a resident of the Potato State,
Wordsmith

Wordsmith

contrary to
conformity
finding com
fort in in divi
duality she's
the redhead
in canada
that uses
her words
carefully
and her
pen as
an anvil
knowing
which word
even before
writing it down
what shape it will
take maybe a 
razor sharp
blade of 
a haiku
katana
or simply
to wait for
the weight
of a twist of
her wrist and
end a poem while
brandishing in hand
a Scots broad sword

but haven't you heard
that a sculptor can
size a marble
stone no
matter
the size
by touch
knowing if
this is where
an arm will be
then all falls into
place proportionately
placing an arm
at arm's length
and the waist not
to waste a single
chip of chisel to take
away the balance of what
figure that is figured out to
be even to the tiniest detail

so as Michelangelo 
lay on top of the
stone that he
knew would
become
David
he runs
and rubs
his hands
over what will be
come a young
man's ribs 
and down
lower his
mind al
ready
sees
what
people
will talk
about for
centuries 
of mankind
and manhood

Wordsmith

He's a stable smithy
Thinks his genius words are pithy
As he pounds, pounds, pounds
Into the night

Swings his big word-hammer
Never minding lies and grammar
Cuz he's gotta, gotta, gotta
Fuel the fight

With his bellowslike ire
He stokes the fire
As it burns, burns, burns
To his delight

On his huge word-anvil
Pounds rumor and scandal
As they sizzle, sizzle, sizzle
Burning bright

Hones his words untoward
Like a two-edged sword
As they stab, stab, stab
Like a knife

As his words extrude
They can get really rude
As he pushes, pushes, pushes
Wrong as right

He's a stable smithy
Thinks his genius words are pithy
As he pounds, pounds, pounds
With all his might






***
November 30, 2019
F G I series 19 satire
Brian Strand, sponsor




***
Poetry notes:
05/26/2019

In the context of this poem, "Wordsmith" refers to any who attempt to mislead by using fake news or disinformation. 

***

Wordsmith

Wordsmith 

When writing shall we dare call it poetry
I, because of my lack of academic learning
cannot seek inspiration the classics,
except for the god Sisyphus which
I find funny realising I`m laughing at self.
The lacuna between me and poetry I have
tried to fill with words, one day I can build
a park for lovers,
At my relative old age which is no more
then a blinking star I have read hundreds
of books that have been stuck on my mind.
A few writers name are remembered,
most of the American writers, sprinkled
by Norwegian and Russian authors.
When writing I draw from this well 
what I need to cobble together the wisdom
which is everlasting, because I`m bringing
forward what has been said before me.

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