Treasure Island

Matthias Pantaleon

(August 24,1984 / Oronija Island, Nigeria)

The Weeping Poet


No one knows why the poet cry
How could they
The world has never seen a bird cry
Poets cry anyway
Long stream; high tides
The tears of a poet forms a line
In every stanza a nightingale delivers

The tears of a poet is a liquid rhyme
They flow freely with Iambic meter
Like sonnet in the theatre;
Like good in a channel of plenty

A poet is a prophet of art
Art is nature
The tears of a poet is a mass of intellectual vapour
Floating on his mind

The price of a poet is service
His pride; humility, his tears; respect
For poetry is service, humility, respect

Submitted: Saturday, February 23, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, April 01, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Topic(s): art

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

service is humility

Comments about this poem (The Weeping Poet by Matthias Pantaleon )

Enter the verification code :

  • Emily Slm (3/4/2013 7:01:00 PM)

    Relatable, and the overall poem is great. I don't see the reason for the Roman numerals though. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. I Cant Afford To..., Bieze Josephat
  2. Life's Bizarre Puzzle, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  3. War's Homecoming, Edgar Albert Guest
  4. Rome, Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
  5. LET MORE ROOM FOR LOVE, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  6. His Santa Claus, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. Pa And The Monthly Bills, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. Cleaning The Furnace, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. Just A Boy, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. When We Play The Fool, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]