i smile at people all day long
young and old
fat or skinny
abled or disabled
strange looking or plain as can be
it’s all the same
but when it comes to me
too fat too wrinkled too old
i’m full of criticism
and i can hardly bear
to glance into the mirror
if this would be a friend
confiding in me
i would be appalled
i would shake them and
tell them they’re crazy
and to snap out of it
so hear me, you be my witness ~
i’m committing here and now
to wear my grandmother’s ring
(the most beautiful woman in the world)
to remind me beauty is in the heart
we should remember always
that kindness is what’s beautiful
and keep that earwig in our ear
critique not asked as serpent rises from the jealous swamp.
I judge a painting on a simple term,
one benchmark that covers them all -
considering everything else I ask:
‘would I have this up on my wall?’
I love to read other's poetry
and I hope that they love to read mine.
There's much to be gained and lost (only time)
and iron, it is writ, sharpens iron.
And yes, I can list the things I insist
make a poem a wonderful thing:
what does it say and without cliche;
does it rhyme when it's read, does it ring?
Does it resonate, this topic they chose?
Is their point belaboured or brief?
What image was used to start a thought?
What thread runs through the motif?
Criteria piles up and gets in the way -
are there artless gauges or signs?
Perhaps, in the end, did it make me say:
‘How I wish I had written these lines’?
Why I Love Writing Poetry?
Did I mean why I love writing poems?
Nevertheless, I love writing poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, make others happy,
Inspire and defend others; to fan the flames
Of fairness, and to seek justice, fairness for the weak,
The innocents, the underprivileged, and the sick;
I can go on and on until I lose consciousness.
I love expressing myself with elegance and neatness.
Ordinary jerks always make fun of the Poets, that's not new;
And the Poets know darn well how to take care of them too.
Poets have thick skin; they are Heroes without fears.
They struggle, fight, write, raise hell and wipe their tears.
Sorry, if I am going astray, that's what I do best,
Sometimes, like any human being, I like to make a mess.
That's why I love writing essays, poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, and to make others happy.
At the same time, I want others to criticize, and castigate.
I make my own decisions, and can determine my own fate.
Poets have thick skin, and by nature have no fears.
Please swallow your frown, your smile, and wipe your tears.
Hebert Logerie Monday, January 26, 2015
It’s an issue when I say something,
but also when I don’t.
There’s a problem with when I eat,
but also when I don’t.
Someone always has something to say,
or looks to throw.
No-one looks at what they do,
just at what everyone else does.
Those who crown themselves with miters and croziers
Are dry and barren canals to which I shall describe
Boats remain frozen in their abandoned and void place
The waters being a simulacrum of doctrines
Only the arid wind gives a sense of forward time
The bubbling and fizzing spring they cut from themselves
Those who pass by recognise there is nothing to drink
Only worms and serpents live within the canals
Their waters of void do not show heaven’s face above
No vision of sparkling angels appears anywhere
Nor can people see their face on the canals
Behold the crown jewels of those called servants and watchers
Inspired by this verse "Those people are dry canals." from The Apocalypse of Peter:
http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/apopet.html
Being criticized by wise
it's totally flattering
tremendously stimulating...
Not so much for obtuse !
Random thoughts flutter across a page
And take shape in verses of expression
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
While the actor repeats upon the stage
Phrases acting out playwright’s impression
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Both painting portraits of love and rage
In concise words, the writer’s profession,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Visually the reader will absorb, engage,
Theatergoers easily observe the passion
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Poets create images like a bird in a cage
Their poems coming in and out of fashion,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
The value of writers the public will gauge
Sometimes without the proper caution
Random thoughts flutter across a page
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Written May 13, 2022
#51 on the BEST POEMS LIST
June 12, 2022
Pitiful is the poor soul who finds no peace
Focusing on the foibles of a fellow poet
Who finds no fit subject to occupy her mind,
Has not learned the meaning of “Stow it!”
The poet she criticizes is expressing himself
In the only way he knows how to write,
‘Tis best she read his words without retort
Keep thoughts to herself, not stir up a fight.
The poet didn’t even have her in his mind
When he wrote words expressing his hurt
He was, perhaps, angry with his daughter
For being a careless, reckless insidious flirt
Some poems are written to express feelings
While some poems are completely fictitious
But public criticism written in a comment
Can turn ugly, especially when it’s vicious.
Written March 28, 2022
[on reading an unpleasant
criticism of a poet’s work]
Who I'm is innate to me
I'm the Fire, the Ice
They must don't
count by you
I'm not the words
you say with eyes,
hear with the tongue.
I’m the virtue.
I shall live the rest of my life in serenity
With beautiful thoughts filling my mind,
A desire to love and be loved is my affinity.
Some may say this lofty goal an extremity
No doubt, some will bitter criticism find,
I shall live the rest of my life in serenity.
I have never sought the fame of celebrity
And, I have no jealousy of that kind,
A desire to love and be loved is my affinity.
I have found nothing surpasses integrity,
While fostering those filial ties that bind
I shall live the rest of my life in serenity.
Life, I find, comes with a prized amenity
When to live the noble life, one is resigned
A desire to love and be loved is my affinity.
Anything less would be a rank obscenity
Present and hereafter could not be aligned,
I shall live the rest of my life in serenity
A desire to love and be loved is my affinity.
written December 17, 2021
wounded by constant criticisms she feels
.
worthless, commits suicide •••
parents regret life-long
~
04.09.2021
For Constance La France, kimo
When you hide the seething pain under a smile,
Making it look easy, to the people vile.
You eclipse the surging anger with a yes.
While masking your emotions fighting to resurface.
Being a victim of the nagging thoughts in the mind.
Speaking of the memories that were left behind.
Choosing to remain strong even when in pain.
Requires a will of steel and a goal to aim.
Silencing the arguments with a scream, so mute;
Your soul reverberates and strengthens the route,
To your success that takes you afar,
From the cavils of a carper and remains of the scar.
Criticism's only good,
When it is carefully given,
And if and when it's used toward,
Some sought after stipend;
For it can often cause great pain,
Considering what must follow,
For it involves admitting faults,
A bitter pill to swallow;
For often few admit the faults,
Even to themselves,
That by chance could be their own,
And hide them on the shelf,
Way in back and in the dark,
In a corner of their mind,
Where even they can't see them,
And hope no one will find,
This tiny flaw in their veneer,
Of sparkling perfection,
Of their personality,
Their personal conception,
Of their own demeanor,
Their sense of dignity.
It's delicate and easily bruised,
So tread most carefully,
Or you mayhap could lose a friend,
And create enemies,
Where once you found acceptance,
And close comradery.
my apologies
shared my honest opinions
since you asked for them
wanting my affirmation
and not expecting the truth
written May 28, 2021
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