A poem is like a smile that goes all the way to your heart.
Poems are a flickering candle of hope in the face of despair.
Poems give words flight that would otherwise just lie on the page.
Poems play the strings of your heart and make music in your soul.
A poet will give his life just to write one beautiful poem that he will be remembered for forever.
Worldly possessions mean little to a poet if he only has a pen and paper.
A poet harvest words out of the air and turns them into food for the soul.
No one can understand a poet, someone who will wear rags, go hungry and live a paltry life just for the love of words upon a page.
It is a waste to offer money to a poet to do your bidding but he will do anything for inspiration for another poem.
No one has yet figured out that when God touches someone with the gift of poetry if it is a blessing or a curse.
A poet’s life is filled with ups and downs. The odd thing is that when he is down he writes poems that lift others up but when he is up he can’t seem to write a single thing.
Having the gift of poetry is seen as a curse by those who do not have the gift because they cannot understand why a poet will not do anything but write while they labor so hard for money.
A poet is treated as one of life’s outcast until someone discovers his talent and then everyone wants to claim credit for his discovery.
A poet is the bad dog of society until his poetry saves someone’s wretched soul from the depths of despair and then he becomes life’s “good doggie”
If you do not think that a poet has a hard life then let me be the first one to give you a pen and paper.
When you turn your back on a poet you turn from the words that feed the soul, inspire the mind and bring music to the heart. In other words you become empty inside.
A poet must keep his life simple otherwise he will lose sight of what it is that he is supposed to do.
A poet must go through some dry times otherwise he will take his gift for granted and not appreciate the river of words when they do come.
One cannot become a great poet without first experiencing great pain, that’s why there are so few great poets.
A poet cannot write about life’s great passions until he has lived, loved and lost those passions.
To a poet his poetry is not only a gift from God it is his work clothes.
Poets know that they must crawl before they can walk, they just did not know that they were going to have to crawl for so long.
A poet not only wears his heart on his sleeve but also on his hand and it drips words onto the paper.
A poet’s dry time is not only a time for rejuvenation but also a time for reflection to see who he really is.
When a poet has a dry spell he always has the fear that it will never rain again.
A poet’s house is not where he lives because he lives in the words he puts to paper but to him a house is just where he keeps his pen and paper.
Of what use is food to a poet except to give him the energy to continue writing?
A poet’s heart is no bigger than any one else’s it is just filled with more scares.
Do not tell me about the love you have, tell me instead about the love you lost. Then and only then are you a true poet.
The heavens will be filled with poets and poetry that’s how you will know you are in heaven.
If a poet’s life was easy them I’m sure everyone would want to be one.
A poet is the only person who will give up every material thing in life for simply a pen and a sheet of paper.
Poets have no where to go and no one to go to therefore they write.
Speak kindly to a poet and he will write your words down for others to enjoy forever.
A poet’s heart is always heavy and that is why he is always writing, trying to unload the many thoughts and hurts piled upon it.
If a poet truly knew how gifted he was then he would just sit and contemplate about himself, how be it that he doesn’t know so he just gives his poetry to others to bring them joy.
A poet can never rest for he is always looking for that next magical set of words that will put bread in his mouth and fresh paper at his side.
A poet is often scorned by the very ones who he would die for... because his passion to please others is that great.
A poet’s spirit will not rest in the grave because his desire to write is so great that he will find another soul’s body to inhabit to do his bidding.
Choose not a poet’s life for you will chose heartache, loss, rejection, disappointments and poverty. However if poetry chooses you, you will somehow endure whatever comes your way and for some reason it really won’t seem to matter.
When a poet gets writer’s block he cannot knock it out of the way; he just has to wait until it melts.
Just when a poet thinks that he is a great poet he hears someone read his work and laugh out loud and say “this stuff is awful” and it puts his feet firmly back on the ground.
If a poet did not also have a sense of humor he could not see to write because the many tears flowing from his eyes would blind him.
Eating at a fine restaurant is something a poet only gets to experience at the end of his life... if he has been successful.
A poet would like to enjoy some self-pity if he just had some place to put it among all of his heartaches.
Some people are jealous of a poet’s life until they find out about the life he had to live to be one.
A person in prison knows why he is there. A poet does not know why he is imprisoned by his poetry.
A poet is the family member who no one talks about in a positive way until he is successful and then everyone wants to be related to him.
If someone is not willing to give their life for their poetry then they will never be much of a poet.
The reward of a poet is not in the plaques or applause he receives but in the simple act of someone paying money for his work.
The more gifted a poet is the more people want to put him down. Life is strange.
Being a poet is a lot like being a deer in the woods, you do beautiful work but there is always someone wanting to shoot you down.
You can not break a poet’s heart because you cannot get through the many coleuses that were put there before you came along.
Poets must have a little bit of a wild steak because they believe that if they become too domesticated they will lose their perspective and their talent and become like everyone else, dry!
In order for a poet to have a continuous flow of words he must occasionally stop and put some more in.
Poets do not fall in love to create more poets they fall in love in order to get more material to write about.
Some people are butterflies some people are grub worms, a poet must be a little of both... at the same time.
If a poet’s heart did not ache he would not have anything to write about.
When someone says that a poet is out to lunch it doesn’t necessarily mean that he is eating.
Everyone knows that poets are half crazy it is just that no one has figured out what the other half is yet.
A poet has to write or go crazy or is it the other way around?
If poets weren’t crazy then how would we ever be able to tell who the normal people are?
Poets who have lost their minds keep writing poetry in the hope that they will be recognized and that will lead then back to sanity.
Sometimes it is hard for a poet to understand why someone would pay money for his poems when he got them for free.
A poet hears poetry in his head all of time and can’t understand why everyone else doesn’t hear it.
A poet can never retire because he might miss writing the one poem that he would be known for after he has died.
A poet’s life is a lot like an actor’s life, much time is spent in waiting for the world to set the stage for his appearance.
A pen and paper is not all that a poet needs to exist; he occasionally needs a spoon and a cup.
Poets become accepted by the public only after they have suffered and written alone.
A poet can only come to rest and his tortured heart mended when he has breathed death’s breath and his body into the grave descended.
Poets would not write near as much as they do if someone would just occasionally give them a hug.
If heartaches were money then poets would be the richest people in the world.
A poet is always in love or in heartache but never in the middle.
A poet can not have a wife because she would always be jealous of his true love, his work.
If passion for living were against the law then poets would spend their whole life in prison.
Poetry exposes one’s self to passions that they did not even know they had.
Poetry flushes the sludge of everyday living from the heart and soul and gives you a clean perspective of yourself and the world.
Poetry is like a medicine to a broken heart.
Poets are doctors of the heart.
A poet who has not loved and lost deserves neither pen nor paper.
The only poet who does not have an aching heart has been dead for one hundred years.
The only reason a poet needs a wife is to have someone who will always be there to criticize his work so that he will not think too highly of himself.
A poet captures on paper fleeting words that like shooting stars race through the mind.
Poet’s harness words to a page for them to bring beauty to all of mankind, otherwise they would just roam wild throughout the world.
Poets experience pain so that they may have the words that will help relieve the pain of others.
A poet can take a heap of heartache and turn it into a beautiful bouquet of words to give to others.
A man dies only once but a poet dies a thousand times. He dies each time he or his work is rejected yet goes on somehow to live again in another verse of poetry.
Success to a poet is the ability to survive another day to write again and fame is having someone else read his poetry and his name.
A poet’s main goal in life is to be able to live long enough to have his poetry appreciated and to still have the mind to accept the appreciation.
A poet, not unlike an artist, paints pictures with words instead of paint, who can say which is best?
For some unknown reason happiness escapes poets even through they try to barricade it’s leaving with lots of fragrant words.
A farmer plows the earth to harvest crops; a poet plows his heartache in order to write poetry.
A poet is always a heartache away from sublime happiness.
Without heartaches and occasional spikes of joy, poets would be as dry as bones on a desert floor.
Never speak ill to a poet or your words and your name will be immortalized in rhyme for all time.
A poet often goes from one relationship to another seeking to find the fantasy that he has put to words and rhyme.
The only person that may have more love and passion for his work than a poet is a preacher and that may often be called into question.
When God sees some poor rejected soul who does not have a craft, he makes him into a poet and then the world learns of all his sorrow.
A poet dies a little with each poem he writes and when he is completely empty of words his life is over.
A poet’s heart is often like his coat, ragged and thread bare from many years of hard use.
Poets are often considered lower than dirt until they take their outstretched finger and write some beautiful words that changes the world.
A pencil may not have much value by itself but when it is put into the hand of a poet it can move a single heart or a nation to joy or to tears.
A poet never wants to do any harm to anyone else therefore he finds it hard to understand why someone would want to put scars upon his heart.
A poet learns to get through life with so little for so long that he does not know how to react when success does come his way.
A poet leads the dog’s life for so long and lives in love’s doghouse for so many years that he doesn’t know what to do with a steak when someone brings him one.
A poet can find a single ray of sunshine in a driving rainstorm, that’s what makes him a poet.
Poets do not want to be life’s mirror but someone has got to do it.
A poet faces impossible odds that he will ever make a good living from his poetry but the only thing he really wants to know is “can I pay the rent this month?”
A poet’s words do not come from the world around him but from the world within himself.
They no longer do autopsies on poets because they know that a woman has stolen his heart, his head is filled with wild ideas, through his veins flows only printers ink and his eyes see not what is but what could be.
A poet makes us see things that before were unseen, feel things that were unfelt and they take our mind to places it has never been and does it all only by touching pen to paper.
Poets and writers record for all time what people do, not what they think about doing.
Poets prostrate themselves on love’s butcher block so that others can be lifted up in passion’s flames by the words that flow from deep within his wounded heart.