What is it
that a poet needs?
Prestige, merit
or some other reward.
What is it his soul heeds?
To compete with the best:
Frost, Dickinson, Goethe and Shakespeare..
The genius, diverged and blessed,
dare to near them or even be a peer.
Is this how he succeeds?
For honor, glory or fame,
hollow taste on a shifting plate.
To make a case with his name,
front row seat to a noisy fate.
Is this the way he exceeds?
To cry out the voice within,
torn by rapture and unrest.
The trapped vessel, deeply hidden,
to be unveiled, seen and felt.
Is this what his existence greeds?
Or touch others minds and hearts,
compassion shown, respect paid.
Celebrate them like monumental arts,
like eternal summers that do not fade.
Is this what he truly seeks?
I do not know…
-
Author:
rhmn_7 (
Offline) - Published: March 3rd, 2024 07:41
- Comment from author about the poem: Why do you think we poets do what we do? Please don't stone me for the few poets a crowned as "best", there are a lot of other bests out there, I know.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet, Alan R
Offline)
Comments9
"It is not good to eat much honey; so for men to search their own glory is not glory."
Wisely said dear friend..
A great question put in verse. I can only speak for myself. I write for myself and realize that the words of others are what they wish to share with the world. Some like I are limited in this gift and I realize as I read the pomes out there that they do the best they can to express the human experience, not all are as gifted as the greats and some that are not so lucky to catch the world attention. For me poetry is therapy.
I see no limits on your work, keep sharing your precious experience with us dear poet..
Like the open ended nature of your piece on one level; I would think that the only answer you can obtain is from yourself. Many different motivations can be seen here. Some self talk may be helpful.
Thanks for the advice!
For as long as I can remember (almost) I have personally written in an attempt to capture moments, situations, circumstances and or events that either appeal and or otherwise catch my attention .. and in the hope that they will essentially serve to stimulate my own mental muscle when I am too old to wield my pen ..
More recently however, also to try and raise funds for a few charitable causes very dear to my heart ..
I very much enjoyed the reading of and participating in your poetic social experiment my friend ..
Neville
You keep your mind sharp with your poetry and also engage in charity works, you have my respect dear friend..
For me, writing poetry is not a competition with anyone, although on my main page here I say I am a slave to the poetic whims of my Muse. I write as anyone writes, to let out what will not stay hidden, what pesters my quill until it lands on the page and allows me to hit that submit button being satisfied with itself. We write not for the glory, but the expression of what's in our hearts. Deny what's in your heart and you shall suffer the consequences. Well penned/questioned rhmn_7 😊👍
Poetry as a tool of unveiling what you feel & think and hereby bridging the distance between hearts and souls, thank you for your side of the story!
I wouldn't claim to be a poet more of a Trier
However I'll try to answer
A pen paper and possibly a reader
You got everyone going with this write
Ta for sharing it
Thanks for the comment!
Great work. I love this. A poet needs to create.
Indeed we need to create, thank you for your words..
I write to find the peace in collecting my thoughts, fixing them for the given time, as if a snapshot in time. And a higher joycomes along, when someone relates to it, as if another person had the same path unfolding in their mind...
Finding (hopefully) common experiences with others by putting your emotions into lovely structured words, that is worthy of pursuit!
It can be used to condense thoughts, and can be a generous gift, or not!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.