It may not be for some, and I respect that, but please, do not presume to make that true for me. I can only speak for myself when I state that there are absolutely no rules to define absolutely what art is. There are rules that define styles and techniques, to be sure. But there are no rules that can say factually that something is art and something else is not on a universal level. Not true. Whatever I say is poetry is poetry to me. Whatever I say is good poetry is good poetry to me. No one can say that something is not a poem as an absolute fact.
No one can say that something is not a good poem as an absolute fact. If someone considers poetry and a good poem only to come from some type of honed skill or craft, then absolutely, that is how it is defined for them. However, to even think of dictating that to the rest of the world is silly at best and highly arrogant at worst. Hard work? I will never qualify art or artists in some formal institutional way.
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As if only they can truly make art or art that has any social, monetary or artistic value. Found art, art made on the spur, on a whim, from a sudden need to make it, by a person who never made any art before is often enough meaningful to many people for so many different reasons. The only criteria for me is how it makes me think and feel. If I connect with it on any level. I would never define what art is for anyone else. I would only compare reactions, discuss any topics the art inspires in me and others around me, say whether I like it or not for only myself… you get the picture.
Pun intended…. Oh and one more in Sarawak, few people came up to me to ask for a copy of the poem. These four poems were not my best writing in the intellectual sense but they resonate with people. Answering your question. I could vividly remember the reactions from my three different performances. Another boy came up to me and said he felt like he was the character in the poem.
When I look back, I felt that was one of the poems that was badly constructed but it touched the audience. Thank you Anonymous II- this crystallizes a significant point. What poetry is not is just writing a rush of words that a mood evoked. Great start for inspiration- but there is meter, rhythm, voice , diction, and most of all discipline.
Pour Me Another Glass - Poem by Drunken Mystic
Poetry, like ballet requires training and discipline. Good poetry like accomplished ballet looks easy and light. There is no absolute standard that qualifies a poem. No one can take that away from you, and that is what makes your poem unique. I know some people absolutely dislike it, but I like it.
My younger sister, who is nine, is very good at it and her poetry always leaves people intrigued at what they just heard. Writing has always been a passion of mine, since I can just pour out all of my feelings and feel very satisfied and content afterwards. Posting on Facebook,handing them out in town,mailing them to friends,and family,news stations,they love all ,show me love,all ages,all races,its ministers to those going through,impacting the world.
They are grateful,and love my passion,and concerns for mankind! This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. Facebook 0. Twitter 0. Pinterest 0. LinkedIn 0. Submit To Our Review Board. Phobia or Fobia , Phrank is my friend. I put that one on my wall at home.
Gotta love poetry…. When my friends read my poems, I got these comments: How could you express the emotions like this? Two ladies came up and said they were glad their daughters heard what I wrote about body image. It is a craft, as well as an art and the skills required are demanding ones, indeed! This poem has not been translated into any other language yet. What do you think this poem is about?
For Example: love, art, fashion, friendship and etc. Shel Silverstein's Other Poems. Famous Poems. Still I Rise Maya Angelou.
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Famous Poets. Social Media. Delivering Poems Around The World. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge Too fragile for this world, ceremoniously destroying ourselves before anyone else can do it for us. CK Baker Jan Alyssa Underwood Jul What Can Your Idol Do? Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life? Can it connect you to eternal beauty?
Can it save you?
Can it redeem you? Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable? Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart?
Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name?
Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself? Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind? Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things? Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights? Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself? Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe? Can it know you through and through and still desire you? Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing?
Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles?
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Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters? Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you?
Pour me another
Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened? Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing? Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself?
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