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Aug 19, 2024
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Poet
I’m talentless, but stirred to scribe.
Least member of the rhymester tribe.
I’ll never paint a work of art,
but ‘neath my rhymes there beats a heart.
A heart of gold, not heart of stone.
A mortal, made of flesh and bone.
A poet, who a Muse once kissed,
Then vanished like the morning mist.
About This Poem
Last Few Words: have pity
Review Request Direction:
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
neopoet
11 months ago
Neopoet AI 5-29-23 version
The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet's computer artificial intelligence:
The poem "Poet" effectively captures the essence of self-awareness and humility in the face of creative pursuits. The use of rhyme and rhythm adds a musical quality to the poem, enhancing its overall impact. The imagery of being a member of the "rhymester tribe" and the reference to a Muse kissing the poet provide depth and evoke a sense of longing and transience. To further enhance the poem, you may consider exploring more vivid and specific imagery to paint a clearer picture for the reader. Additionally, experimenting with different poetic devices or structures could add layers of complexity to your work.
Please send feedback about Neo (our computer generated critique system) to https://www.neopoet.com/contact
Candlewitch
11 months ago
hello Blue Eyes,
I much admire this poem and it's creation... my favorite lines are:
A poet, who a Muse once kissed,
Then vanished like the morning mist.
you have described the way I often feel after a poem leaves my pen.
*hugs, Cat
Blue-eyed Bolla
11 months ago
poet
Many thanks, C.
Geezer
11 months ago
Like we all...
are different, so too, our muses. Mine ranges freely over many subjects and places; sometimes, she gets sidetracked and goes missing for extended periods of time. I worry sometimes, that she will not come back, but she shows up professing her undying love, and all is forgiven. I suspect that your muse is the same. She has delivered a nice little tidbit and will pause for her kiss. Give her a big smacker and she will reward you time and time again. ~Geez.
.
Blue-eyed Bolla
11 months ago
poet
Thanks for the encouragement, Geezer.