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Literature Text
Poets are philosophers,
trying to convince others,
they are deep lovers.
But they are hypocritical,
sounding almost political,
always hypothetical
Never sure what to talk about,
they remain always in doubt,
constantly in rout
These love seekers,
those mind readers,
are your secret admirers
I will admit though,
they write with amazing flow,
each poem as thoughtful as mellow
What they say and what they write,
reveals their plight,
to make everything right
Poets will change your mind,
they will help you find,
the truth to any bind
So fall in love with poets and their rhymes,
love the romantic on whose mind you thrive,
admire the one you keep alive
As long as you know how they feel,
about how much you're a big deal,
and how they doubt you're even real
As for me, my admiration will remain a mystery,
kept a secret in my reverie,
from the beauty who inspires my poetry.
trying to convince others,
they are deep lovers.
But they are hypocritical,
sounding almost political,
always hypothetical
Never sure what to talk about,
they remain always in doubt,
constantly in rout
These love seekers,
those mind readers,
are your secret admirers
I will admit though,
they write with amazing flow,
each poem as thoughtful as mellow
What they say and what they write,
reveals their plight,
to make everything right
Poets will change your mind,
they will help you find,
the truth to any bind
So fall in love with poets and their rhymes,
love the romantic on whose mind you thrive,
admire the one you keep alive
As long as you know how they feel,
about how much you're a big deal,
and how they doubt you're even real
As for me, my admiration will remain a mystery,
kept a secret in my reverie,
from the beauty who inspires my poetry.
Literature
I Gave My Heart Away
I gave my heart away
to the boy
with rosy cheeks,
but he kindly
gave it back, saying
'It's not meant to be'.
I gave my heart away
to the boy
with big brown eyes,
and he gently
held it in his hands
and loved me by surprise.
Literature
dreamergirl
The Last Time I saw you,
you were down in the dirt,
[literally] on hands and knees,
looking for the bit of magic
your father had promised was toiling
just underneath the surface.
You feel it, you whispered in
a cotton hush like the vibrancy
of your voice would intimidate the
dreams you scraped at beneath the
faultlines. Daddy never told a lie
[excluding the usual good things
come to those who wait, and 'tis better
to have loved and lost, and every end
is a new beginning]. You feel it,
you whispered, trembling at the hands
the same way you did for the Pills
that couldn't quite fix the Problem.
.
I never really understood all the ways
you
Literature
Just One Kiss
I hate that there will always be
A lingering regret
An ache set so deep inside me
I cannot forget
I turned away as my thoughts strayed
“What chances have I missed?”
I don’t want one more regret
To add among the list
I need to know what could’ve been
What could become of this
I’ll take my chances, no regrets
For just one kiss…
Between what I feel and I say
Is what I don’t understand
You say it’s better this way
This is not what I had planned
I watched as you just walked away
“What chances have I missed?”
I’ll add just one more regret
To the top of the list
I need to know i
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Seems like I'm posting my poems in the order I've written them (or maybe not...). Anyway, the title is a reflection of the uncertainty expressed in the beginning and a contrast of the change in mind near the end. Tell me what you think 
From the comments below: "[this poem] sort of has two meanings that go hand in hand: one related to the content of the poem and another related to how/why it is written. Content-wise, I start out by claiming that poets are usually confused, uncertain, and self contradictory and that those are bad qualities for a lover. The typical image of a poet is a sensitive person who writes love poems. Another conception about poets is that their poetry is sometimes very hard to analyze, and therefore seems confused or at least unclear. (first 3 stanzas). In stanza 4 I basically say 'that confused lover I just described is the person who secretly admires you.' After that, I begin to reconsider everything I had just said, by recognizing the value of the poet's words and revealing that I've been misinterpreting poetry the whole time. On the surface poetry (in this case love poetry) may seem confused and unclear, but upon closer evaluation you uncover that it has a lot of meaning. The opposite of confused. In the last 3 stanzas I finally say 'ignore everything I said in the beginning, poets are great.' And the final stanza is me saying that I myself will remain a secret admirer.
Hopefully that's logical.
Structure-wise, I follow that same logic. I start out by making uncertain (and basically false) statements and later begin to contradict myself by making opposite claims, keeping up with (my own) conception that poets are confused. But what is also true is the fact that I changed my own mind, proving the claim that "poets will change your mind."
In short, my goal when writing any poem is to find some correlation between the content of the poem and the motive for writing it. You can sort of say that this poem makes claims about itself, and makes an example out of itself"
From the comments below: "[this poem] sort of has two meanings that go hand in hand: one related to the content of the poem and another related to how/why it is written. Content-wise, I start out by claiming that poets are usually confused, uncertain, and self contradictory and that those are bad qualities for a lover. The typical image of a poet is a sensitive person who writes love poems. Another conception about poets is that their poetry is sometimes very hard to analyze, and therefore seems confused or at least unclear. (first 3 stanzas). In stanza 4 I basically say 'that confused lover I just described is the person who secretly admires you.' After that, I begin to reconsider everything I had just said, by recognizing the value of the poet's words and revealing that I've been misinterpreting poetry the whole time. On the surface poetry (in this case love poetry) may seem confused and unclear, but upon closer evaluation you uncover that it has a lot of meaning. The opposite of confused. In the last 3 stanzas I finally say 'ignore everything I said in the beginning, poets are great.' And the final stanza is me saying that I myself will remain a secret admirer.
Hopefully that's logical.
Structure-wise, I follow that same logic. I start out by making uncertain (and basically false) statements and later begin to contradict myself by making opposite claims, keeping up with (my own) conception that poets are confused. But what is also true is the fact that I changed my own mind, proving the claim that "poets will change your mind."
In short, my goal when writing any poem is to find some correlation between the content of the poem and the motive for writing it. You can sort of say that this poem makes claims about itself, and makes an example out of itself"
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Comments21
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perfect!!! in english one day my teacher was like, Poets are very simple people, and i was like, WHAT!!?? so i stood up, completely forgetting that i was a student and he the teacher, and delivered a 10 minute rant at him on behalf of the community of poets…… not the best idea, but the look on his and the other students faces was PRICELESS!!!