My Observation as an Outsider to PoemHunter Society
I have joined this group since the end of this May
On that day I was excited for I thought I had found my soul friends
Who were dreamers, sentimental and sensitive kind;
I met and befriended with few noble poets;
I consoled and healed few broken hearts;
I appealed to their souls divine noble ideas;
And for the most parts, I accomplished what I had aimed.
Then I have to deal with doubters and hunters
who sole purpose is to tear down what little I have offered
Who is so critical, judging, hidden behind word skill, riddles, hidden images or childish stories.
That is exactly the reasons my colleagues at work call poets bunch of weirdos!
And now I can see my colleagues points after one month of membership;
I can see a sinking ship going nowhere
If so-called poets keep dwelling inwards,
To analyze their own miserable self
Instead of looking outwards to help someone else,
To be humanist striving for higher purposes
In utilizing their deep sentimental mind and heart
To lift a soul, a spirit while all she might need is an inspiration or message of hope.
A poet cannot riddle into a philosophical riddle
Of life if he is only one-self-deep.
He cannot solve anything, help anybody if all he does is to ridicule
While indirectly disheartening and defaming the whole group
where still exist few of my noble friends.
A poet cannot imitate a psychologist either
As he is very poor one indeed,
For he is not even good in recognizing his goodness potential;
All he can do is to describe his sour grape full of sadness and misera-sies
He has no clue on human behavior besides his limited self.
How can you ease the defects of human nature,
To uplift a soul, to console one who writhes in her sufferings,
If all you dwell is your own unhappiness which turns into ridiculing.
Do not judge as my Lord once solemnly declared
For critical nature shall be embedded in you.
Write poems for noble purposes.
Like the great ones who once ruled and changed the world;
Who started revolution or modernized the cultural societal circles;
Be idealists, be humanists, be social workers, be miracle workers,
Be poets in plain noble styles,
No hidden meanings or childish stories,
Simply love, ideal, compassion, and kindness.
Then I will tip my hat to you,
Expecting greatness from you,
My poet friends.
(One more thing, don't use pseudonyms or fake names which resemble an ethnic group or nationality while writing for you might commit a grave sin to insult certain country or ethnic group with your so-called poetic writings. Only cowards use fake names. Why do you need to hide if anything you write is noble and just? If you are bitter person, I suggest you to quit poetry because poetry is supposed to be nobility and beauty combined! ! Such a wasteful use of my time!)
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Comments about this poem (My Observation as an Outsider to PoemHunter Society by Don Nguyen )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 April 1918 – 27 February 2002)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost