Why poetry and I?
I love to free myself in other men’s dorm
When am not trailing, am in lexical home
I cannot sit and think, book taps for me.
The flood of books is a great grieve
There is no limit to this fever for writings
When once the itch of writing comes over men
Nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen .
I have met with people
whom I really think would like
to be married to a poem
And to given away by a novel.
How pleasant to know Mr. Sam
Who has written such volumes of stuff
Some think him ill-tempered and queer ,
But a few think him pleasant enough
The cure for this ill is not to sit still
The poet and the dreamer are distinct,
diverse, sheer opposite and antipodes
Even when poetry has a meaning,
as it usually has
It maybe inadvisable to draw it out.
Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure
Poetry is not absolutely dead things
It contain a potency of life
Rhyme being no necessary adjuncts
Or true ornament of poem
Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest mind
“Fool” said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write
Your true lover of writing is never fastidious
Learn to read slow……
All other grace will follows in their proper places
Poetry should surprise by a fine excess
And not by singularity
it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts and appear almost a remembrance.
A great poet is a second government in his country
For that reason only minors loves him
For me; poetry is my way
Am not bothered if I have no friends
In as much am in love with my pen
Shout out to my people
The owners of Breeding pen
You are my muse and book
I see more the less i look
Christ Eagle (Sam Rantimi)