poete lets meh eksress mah felings. et also lets meh leyt oot meh emotoins two

Somehow the rest of the day
Fleeted like our fragile thoughts.

The preoccupied crustacean
Washed upon the shore,
Thanks to the high tide,
A swirl of earthly obsessions.

An old woman awoke early
In the morning to water her bonsai.
Who is that at the front door?
Who could it possibly be?
Was it the childbearing of symmetry
From a timid chamber?

Does a poet create poetry or does poetry create a poet?

Read and decide for me.

Originally written 4/10/11
Revised 10/18/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

huge black hulk of sunken sagging bedding
his armchair has seen its better days
his mousy derelictions from society's dictums
have born a wastrel with feet of clay
a bookworm hiding from the birds of prey
a lover unloved except for that long ago kiss on a Paris quay

cigarette burns and sudden coffee spills
scarce paper and broken quills
tribunal assaults on ambition's embattled frays
he holds fast to this chair
through many a  disorienting maze
holds fast to this comfort flop of better days

canaries mourn the demise of his old dog lassie
while johns down the street rejoice over their ******' chassis
and the ice cream man takes a breather on the Santa Monica sands
listening to the far away poet
wrap up his film in the can
for video night at the local poetry slam

milk wood meetings in slumberous afternoons
enforce the guilt of absent attractions
though grateful bon ami erases
evidence of the satisfaction
then often leans back in his chair
falling asleep on a half remembered line of Poe or John Clare

awakening wishing once for a computer
though he thinks them a crime
a luddite at heart
neighbors revile him for being an old ****
yet sometimes he sinks deeper into his chair
imagining taking the big step if he dare

burp me mrs sweeny pleads
to her lover who raps her on the back
2 or 3 times and a fourth for FOOD luck
as on the bachelor's chair they commence to ****
though after stepping into the morning's widowed wind
all seems bleak and commonly thin

but both he and she kept the loss of a sedentary promise fearfully within

It was for good, I just did it once and it was for good. I realized that there is nothing like an ex-lover, where love been it sticks there forever, nothing impossible as unloving who you once loved. Yeah, you left me, I wasn’t probably enough for you but I assure you, you were for me, I wasn’t probably as perfect as you wanted me to be but I loved you with all my imperfections, probably you weren’t seeing the future with me but I honestly cherish our past and the whole bunch of memories we had. I could have done anything to keep you by my side but the universe always revolves to bring new changes, what meant to happen happened. Please always remember I loved you, I still do, and I’ll forever do.
#mali for life
@mxnzilepoete

In the future of all mentioned below
art intuition activated internal, global re-plication,
twist the three-fold chord,
ping measured steps,
poet (n.) Semper fi… lie and die.
"one endowed
with the gift and power
of imaginative invention and creation, attended
by corresponding eloquence
of expression, commonly but not necessarily
in a metrical form"
[Century Dictionary, 1895],
early 14c.,
"a poet, an author
of metrical {measured or measurable}
compositions; {positions, posed with intent
to stretch a touching feeling with a point,
to pop my bubble - is it me or vain to think… I am}
one skilled
in the art
of making poetry;
a singer"
(c. 1200 as a surname), from Old French poete
(12c., Modern French poète)
and directly from Latin poeta
"a poet," - - a very old idea, indeed --
from Greek poētēs
"maker, author, poet,"
variant of poiētēs, from poein, poiein
"to make, create, compose,"
from PIE *kwoiwo-
"making,"
from root *kwei-
"to pile up, build, make"
(source also of Sanskrit cinoti
"heaping up, piling up,"
Old Church Slavonic činu
"act, deed, order").
Replaced Old English scop
(which survives in scoff).
Used in 14c., as in classical languages,
for all sorts of writers or composers
of works of literature.
---Kersplat---

Poète maudit,
"a poet insufficiently appreciated
by his contemporaries",
literally "cursed poet,"
is attested by 1930,
from French (1884, Verlaine).
For poet laureate see laureate.

{Brief crown stuff, the laurel,
worn but a  brief while, a bit of a life,
though not so brief a while
as one formed of thorns}

"Communication" will not explain poetry.
I will not say that there is not always
some varying degree
of communication
in poetry, or that poetry could exist
without any communication taking place.
There is room
for very great individual variation
in the motives
of equally good individual poets;
and we have the assurance
of Coleridge,
with the approval
of Mr. Housman{A.E.},
that "poetry gives most pleasure when
only generally
and not perfectly understood."
[T.S. Eliot, "The Use of Poetry and the Use of Criticism"]

From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/poet?ref=etymonline_crossreference>