We Are Poets

A celebration of writers and poetry

From where within my soul is it found?
A beautiful verse in rhyming round. 
With zealous search, eyes closed, heads reclined, 
in silence, mouthing words we choose to refine.

 

Being the antitype of many who walk on this earth, 
poets pen our thoughts by weighing a words worth. 
Writing what we mean and meaning what we write, 
we use our intellect alone and not our fists to fight.

 

Whether we write of love found or that of scorn,
maybe we will pen words of a death to mourn. 
Never the matter of what topic we compose, 
it's for certain that our thoughts we impose.

 

For some are blessed with many musical skills,
still others who can calculate telephone bills. 
But it is we who are given the greatest of ability -
that of communicating all of life’s complexity.

 

You may think that for hours we might labor,
only to write simple words upon some paper. 
One might even be so emboldened to inquire:
“Poet, of where do you think your work is required?”

 

In resounding triumph you would hear us sing:
Our words ended battles as well as humored kings.
We have lifted spirits and spread good cheer; 
some of us have brought an end to political careers.

 

So there good man, our labor has not been in vain.
Know this, that our poems will echo with refrain.
Writing our thoughts daily, we faithfully pen;
being poets before statesmen, we get the last word in.

Reviews

[Emily Elizabeth]

This is the poem to end all poems! A fantastic write! The concept of this is just inspired! You've written it so beautifully and with such a fine, eloquent touch as well. It flows wonderfully throughout. Thanks so much for sharing. I especially loved his verse:

'With resounding proclaim you would hear us sing;
Our words ended battles as well as humored kings;
We have lifted others spirits and spread good cheer;
A few of us have even ended several political careers.'

Long live poetry! :D

[Gandré]

I loved your poem. I consider it as perfectly rhythmically conciped and executed. I love its waves. They carried me into the mirracuous world of yours. I adored this stanza:

Being the antitype of many who walk on this earth;
Poets pen our thoughts by weighing a words worth;
Writing what we mean and meaning what we write;
We use our intellect alone and not our fists to fight.-------really wonderful. Hmm please read me, too.

the meter was so perfect and I don't see it often here.

regards from Germany,
Gandr�

[[untitled]]

I very much like what you have had to say! I studied poetry considerably this winter along with work shopping, and poetics. Interestingly, poetry once reflected society and all of its mean ills. Then poets became professors in order to make a living. I do not have to tell you that professors do not well reflect society. But this has again been changing as more and more hear the call and come forward to write their poetry. I could not live without it although I tool a long hiatus...when I was not reading poetry. I this that the middle aged poet simply has more to say. I am glad that you are writing.

[Constance]

What a wonderful way to express it!
The second stanza is my favorite, but the entire poem has a message, as any poem should, and was well worth
the time taken to pen it.
The flow seems a little off in the last two lines of the third stanza. You may want to edit those at some point later, if you want it to be flawless.
Very nice, and thank you for sharing.

[J]

Oh! What a grand read! I'm sitting a little taller in my chair . . . "antitype" indeed, mostly relegated to the back page following the obits. Enjoyed your inspiring thoughts here ~ especially "we get the last word in." ;-) Who doesn't enjoy the last word ~ well placed in this finely wrought piece.

j

[DiamondNRough AKA Patty..]

Oh...a killer! Well written and "echoes with refrain" indeed. Can I have permission to share this with others with your credits of course.