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Once upon a time in a quiet corner of my mind
I deemed myself a poet.
What an arrogant ******* I am.
To think my less than subtle rhymes, written at best
in erratic time, qualify somehow as poetry.
Still I write this drivel from the heart
and I guess, Hell, maybe that's a start.
And maybe, It shouldn't be.
But maybe, just possibly
In the mind of this arrogant ******* poet
That's good enough for me.
No,
the poet is not always
the bringer of light!
he can also bring
darkness, hatred, and pain.
he can sing of evil and ugliness.
the poet knows how to squeeze out tears
and smear blood into your eyes.
from his nails, claws can grow
and from his teeth, fangs.
on his forehead, horns he could place
if ever needed.
No,
the poet is not necessarily
dressed in white garments.
he can pass through naked
and laugh madly in hysterics!
and if you strike him,
he will not always
turn the other cheek.
No,
the poet is no angel!
he is a wound—always bleeding—
on the sick heart of the World
and the sleepless eye on Its forehead,
the unforeseen eye.
This poem was originally written in Romanian.

Analysis of "No! The Poet"

Theme:
The poem challenges romanticized notions of poets as solely virtuous and enlightened figures, presenting a darker, multifaceted portrayal instead. The poet becomes a vessel for light and shadow, capable of evoking beauty and ugliness, healing and harm. This duality emphasizes the raw and unpredictable power of art and the humanity of its creator.

Tone and Structure:
The tone is defiant and provocative, confronting the reader’s expectations with stark negations. The repeated "No" asserts the rejection of traditional archetypes and sets the poem’s rhythm. The structure, with its free verse and escalating intensity, mirrors the chaotic, untamed energy of the poet described within.

Imagery and Meaning:

The Poet as a Creator of Duality:

"The poet is not always the bringer of light! / he can also bring darkness, hatred, and pain."
The poet is portrayed as a figure who embodies and expresses the full spectrum of human experience unbound by societal ideals of purity or enlightenment.
This duality challenges the reader to see poetry as more than a tool for comfort or beauty.

Violent and Monstrous Metaphors:

"From his nails, claws can grow / and from his teeth, fangs. / On his forehead, horns he could place."
The poet is likened to a beast or demon, underscoring creativity's primal, untamed nature. Poetry here is not sanitized but raw and visceral.
These images emphasize that poets may disturb or unsettle as much as they inspire.

Human Vulnerability:

"He is a wound—always bleeding— / on the sick heart of the World."
The poet is presented as deeply empathetic, absorbing and reflecting the world’s pain.
This wound symbolizes the poet's role as a witness and participant in humanity’s suffering.

The Unforeseen Eye:

"The sleepless eye on Its forehead, / the unforeseen eye."
The poet becomes a seer, perceiving and revealing truths that others cannot or will not see.
This suggests a sense of duty or burden, as the poet remains ever-watchful and aware.

Message:
The poem asserts that poets are not merely idealistic figures of inspiration but complex beings who confront the full spectrum of life’s darkness and light. They wield their art as both a weapon and a balm, embodying truth's chaotic, painful, and transformative power. The poet’s role is to provoke, unsettle, and challenge while carrying the weight of the world’s wounds.

Conclusion:
"No! The Poet" is a bold and courageous portrayal of the poet as a figure of duality—creator and destroyer, angel and beast, healer and wound. By rejecting conventional expectations, the poem forces readers to reconsider the nature of art and its creators, emphasizing the poet's raw humanity and limitless potential. It is a celebration of poetry’s ability to confront the sublime and the grotesque, offering a vision of art as both a mirror and a force of transformation.
Let's sit in silence,
and not look at each other.
I'll patiently wait,
till your heart discovers
my stolen glances,
and subtle advances,
till our eyes meet, in the rearview mirror.

And once your breath slows down,
I'll climb the mountains in your mind,
trace the rivers in your veins,
and help you gently unwind.

So you can see you,
a man, forged in silence and dreams—
so much left unspoken,
but so much more seen.

So while I sink in your solitude,
you bask in my summer.
Let the world resist us;
we'll still find each other,
like night and day, earth and sky,
On horizons we'll meet,
in dawns, be lovers.
My mind is a
scrapbook of
tattered
memories and
ghosts that waltz to
sullen Cohen
songs in my heart.

Sometimes
it hurts
like a
rotten tooth.
I have a foul and
electric
taste in my mouth.
A metallic bitterness.
There’s a febrile and
pale stranger in the
mirror that cowers
back at me.
Tears, like candle wax.

I used to
try and drink the
pain away.
Chase worldly
pursuits, like a
dog at the track
after that mechanical
rabbit.

As I get older,
I try to practice
wisdom.
I got off that
dirt road to
damnation Island.
We are in this
carnival of ****
together.
I seek a higher love
and try to ease another's
aching,
a pursuit worthwhile.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbj9bj58Txw
Kat Oct 3
Poetry
The word itself sounds poetic
My bad, I meant to say pathetic.
Poetry. Poet-try.
I do try
In pain, in vain.
Again, and again.
I am a poetrier.
Micko 7d
How can you hate a  Poet?
How can you hate a person who  freely pours, his/her fantasy imaginations and art to the world?
How can you hate such a pure and honest soul?
The new dawn 222.

Micko
There comes a time when you will meet someone. This someone will be a tiny crush at first. Youll look their way to try & catch their eye, “run into” them in public knowing where all their favorite spots are.  
Then, there comes a time where your heart feels bold.  It cant contain the fire it feels for this other soul. It pushes you to say something or do whatever you can to be noticed by that one person.  
Finally, there comes a time where you take a chance and you finally get what your heart has been craving, connection. This connection sends you over the moon with no intention of bringing you back down.
Until, it does. Yet you hold on to its comfort like a baby blanket.  
You let the months drag on.
Days go by.
The spark fades. The fights increase
The gravity of reality starts to sink in.  
You loved the comfort of not being alone.  You loved being the hero and saving the lost soul that has been doomed to hell from the start.  
An angel in a cruel world just trying to love the way she was intended.  
This cruel world is no place for an angel with a heart of gold... yet, in her lies the only hope that this world will see.  
She will make mistakes.  Go down her own path for a while, but finally she will see why she was put in her world of turmoil and hurt.  
She chose to be here to love the ****** and forgotten.  
She chose to be the love in a place where all she felt was hate.  
She chose to understand what its like to feel heartbreak to better understand humanity.  
These moments of hell that she goes through only teach her the most valuable lessons of life.  
Love will always be more powerful than hate.  
Dont ever underestimate the power of kindness to those that need and repel it the most.  
Dont hate anyone for everyone is on their own journey OUT of hell.
It's been a while since I've wrote a poem, or an entry
It feels like I haven't been honest in almost a century
Feelings are deeper that what we actually feel.  
The emotions quickly turn into something more real.
Maybe anxiety or depression,
But let me tell you, it's all the same, a lesson.  
I was once in a deep dark place,
Confronting the mirror, I couldn't look myself in the face.  
Shadows clouded my every thought and emotion.
Making me feel as if I would never escape the commotion  
All around me was help, yet I couldn’t seem to cry out.  
I couldn’t move, and started to fill myself with doubt.
"Will they ever notice I need to be saved?"
"My voice seems to have completely caved"
All of a sudden, it felt as if an angel had come to my assistance
I gave them my hand with no resistance.  
Slowly I was pulled towards life once again.
I saw things as if my life had just began.
Everything now glows with a new spark and fascination
Everyday I find more and more to give me inspiration
Once I allowed help to take its course on my destined path
I’ve learned to accept the truth in the aftermath.  
Live your life with purpose,
There is much more meaning than what's just on the surface
Ich bin ein Dichter
Ich besprenkle Herzen
Mit Versen, Blumen
Reimen und Küssen
Vor dieser stummen
Schönheit
Die sich entfernt
Und die ich anstarre
Oh! Frau
Madam
Gott hat den Himmel geöffnet
Um uns zu treffen und zu begrüßen
Zwei Kelche mit Honig
Sind in der Nähe der Oase
Du und ich gehen schwimmen
Mitten im Sommer
Und danach, auf dem schönen Bürgersteig
Werden wir spazieren gehen
Was für ein Abend der Schönheit
Der Liebe, des Friedens
Der Freude und Fröhlichkeit
Vor der Bucht!

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Hébert Logerie ist Autor zahlreicher Gedichtsammlungen.
Translation of ' I Am A Poet' in German.
Atlas Moth Nov 8
I am no poet
For I don't understand
the way people format
or the way people write

I am no poet
For I can't ever find the correct
phrases and words or
why I have to sound
d e e p and meaningful

For I am no poet.
But I do like to put my thoughts down,
no matter how weird or unimportant
Always want to be heard but sometimes
I'm too quiet, can't be heard or I say something, some word wrong

I am no poet
I hate rhythm and rhymes
I just want someone to
l i s t e n
I write terrible poetry but I like the idea of sparking something
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