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Oh Poet!

Oh Poet!

I thought of reading you today

You surely are unique
In your own way

No more poetry
Here shall I display

Should wrath alone
Come my way

I am but a learner poet
I’d wish to say
Metaphors rarely come,
My pathway
Tis a curse
Twas the one
That alone comes
To stay
My doorway

Comments

the s was superfluous

and weird...
what ???guy
has again given a mouthful
being ignored.....
who the hell is he
God of poetry what
i don't even read him at all
NOR SHALL

OH YES... IS THAT WEIRDO GUY... SOME SORT OF A WEIRD GUY. do u know him i hope not

loved

author comment

ok fine the guy is wicked i feel really weeerrrooddoooooooooooooooooooooooooo

loved

author comment

the wrath of the poetgods
(note the lowercase letters)
write if you must as the Muse calls upon you
improve your craft as well as you may
that is your duty and privilege to Poetry
to no man or woman be bowed down
except to Yourself and to your Muse
as for metaphors they surround you
nuggets, trinkets, precious stones
let your imagination uncover them
and your daily growing craft employ them.

__________________________________________________
'write on! let these words free.'

HELLO MR CLEARYPTIC FRND bard and well reader

loved

author comment

If only

You were a wee bit unattached
And I slightly different,
I would’ve welded
To all that is magnificent,
As you are the lion,
I the meekest lamb

Here I’m shorn
Of all trinkets,
Imagine where ever you can
Now I’m enamoured
Of the world you present.
You my friend
In the sojourn of my life
Have been
No,
Not God,
No,
Not heaven,
But by the creation
Of the Big Bang
Time sent
And
Had I been what I said before
I would’ve been lying on the floor
But albeit
That’s too late
Perhaps another life
If it may take another collapse
Of the universe,
As everyone including God,
If there is one,
Needs to rehearse

A cryptic bard you are,
A diamond among
Stacks of coal
Shining as for me
As the sun
Perhaps, a son

loved

author comment

That is the story of my life it seems
maybe this is part of poetry's secret
its power and appeal
else poetry would be empty and unconcealed
limp and impotent, without spunk.

__________________________________________________
'write on! let these words free.'

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