The Top Ten Celebrity Poets of All Time

10: Ronald Reagan

Our troubles break and drench us.

Like spray on the cleaving prow

Of some trim Gloucester schooner.

As it dips in a graceful bow ...

But why does sorrow drench us

When our fellow passes on?

He's just exchanged life's dreary dirge

For an eternal life of song.

9: Benjamin Franklin

Little strokes

fell great oaks.

Plough deep

while sluggards sleep.

Vessels large may venture more,

but little boats should keep near shore.

He that goes a-borrowing

goes a-sorrowing.

Early to bed,

early to rise,

makes a man healthy,

wealthy

and wise.

8. Britney Spears

I may have made it rain

Please forgive me

My weakness caused you pain

And this song is very sorry

I believe that you are here

It's the only way I see clear

What have I done

You seem to move on easy

7. George Washington

From your bright sparkling Eyes, I was undone;

Rays, you have, more transparent than the sun,

Amidst its glory in the rising Day,

None can you equal in your bright array;

Constant in your calm and unspotted Mind;

Equal to all, but will to none Prove kind,

So knowing, seldom one so Young, you'l Find

Ah! woe's me that I should Love and conceal,

Long have I wish'd, but never dare reveal,

Even though severely Loves Pains I feel;

Xerxes that great, was't free from Cupids Dart,

And all the greatest Heroes, felt the smart.

6. Muhammed Ali

Clay comes out to meet Liston and Liston starts to retreat,

if Liston goes back an inch farther he'll end up in a ringside seat.

Clay swings with his left, Clay swings with his right,

Look at young Cassius carry the fight

Liston keeps backing, but there's not enough room,

It's a matter of time till Clay lowers the boom.

Now Clay lands with a right, what a beautiful swing,

And the punch raises the Bear clean out of the ring.

Liston is still rising and the ref wears a frown,

For he can't start counting till Sonny goes down.

Now Liston is disappearing from view, the crowd is going frantic,

But radar stations have picked him up, somewhere over the Atlantic.

Who would have thought when they came to the fight?

That they'd witness the launching of a human satellite.

Yes the crowd did not dream, when they put up the money,

That they would see a total eclipse of the Sonny.

5. Marilyn Monroe

Only parts of us will ever

touch only parts of others —

one’s own truth is just that really — one’s own truth.

We can only share the part that is understood by within another’s knowing acceptable to

the other — therefore so one

is for most part alone.

As it is meant to be in

evidently in nature — at best though perhaps it could make

our understanding seek

another’s loneliness out.

4. Abrahm Lincoln

In eighteen sixty three, with pomp,

and mighty swell,

Me and Jeff's Confederacy, went

forth to sack Phil-del,

The Yankees they got arter us, and

giv us particular hell,

And we skedaddled back again,

And didn't sack Phil-del.

3. Barack Obama

Under water grottos, caverns

Filled with apes

That eat figs.

Stepping on the figs

That the apes

Eat, they crunch.

The apes howl, bare

Their fangs, dance,

Tumble in the

Rushing water,

Musty, wet pelts

Glistening in the blue.

2. Queen Elizabeth 1

I grieve and dare not show my discontent,

I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,

I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,

I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.

I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,

Since from myself another self I turned.

My care is like my shadow in the sun,

Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,

Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.

His too familiar care doth make me rue it.

No means I find to rid him from my breast,

Till by the end of things it be supprest.

Some gentler passion slide into my mind,

For I am soft and made of melting snow;

Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind.

Let me or float or sink, be high or low.

Or let me live with some more sweet content,

Or die and so forget what love ere meant.

1. Albert Einstein

Solitude is painful

when one is young,

but delightful

when one is more mature.

I live in that solitude

which was painful in my youth,

but seems delicious now,

in the years of my maturity.

All these primary impulses,

not easily described in words,

are the springboards

of man's actions—because

any man who can drive safely

while kissing a pretty girl

is simply not giving the kiss

the attention it deserves!

Oh, it should be possible

to explain the laws of physics

to a barmaid! . . .

but how could she ever explain,

in a million years,

love to an Einstein?

Now it gives me great pleasure, indeed,

to see the stubbornness

of an incorrigible nonconformist

so warmly acclaimed . . .

and yet it seems vastly strange

to be known so universally

and yet be so lonely.

But heroism on command,

senseless violence,

and all the loathsome nonsense

that goes by the name of patriotism:

how passionately I hate them!

Perfection of means

and confusion of ends

seem to characterize our age

and it has become appallingly obvious

that our technology

has exceeded our humanity,

that technological progress

is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal,

and that the attempt to combine wisdom and power

has only rarely been successful

and then only for a short while.

It is my conviction

that killing under the cloak of war

is nothing but an act of murder.

(I do not know what weapons

World War III will be fought with,

but World War IV will be fought

with sticks and stones.)

Our task must be to free ourselves

by widening our circle of compassion

to embrace all living creatures

and the whole of nature and its beauty.

And peace cannot be kept by force;

it can only be achieved by understanding.

Few are those

who see

with their own eyes,

and feel

with their own hearts,

and think

with their own minds . . .

and he who can no longer pause

to wonder

and stand rapt in awe,

is as good as dead;

his eyes are closed.

Learn from yesterday,

live for today,

hope for tomorrow.

The important thing is never

to stop questioning.

Never lose a holy curiosity.

Reality is merely an illusion,

albeit a very persistent one.

Only two things are infinite,

the universe and human stupidity,

and I'm not sure about the former.

Not everything that can be counted counts,

and not everything that counts can be counted.

Do I believe in immortality?

No, and one life is more than enough for me!

Want to write better poems? Why not try a different technique to become a better poet? Stop trying to write better poems.

Because most good poetry comes from a place deep in the subconscious, judging your poems as you’re writing them can be problematic. If you’re worried that your poetry isn’t strong, that your metaphors are wobbly, that no one will be interested in your subject matter, then you’re clipping your poem’s wings at the same time that you’re asking it to take flight.

Here is one way of writing that works for some poets. Feel free to expand and alter this as you please to suit your own writing needs!

1. To write better poems, turn off the part of your brain that is conscious of what other readers might think of your poetry. Let your subconscious do the writing. Don’t go chasing after the words you want to write; instead, follow the words as they come from within you. Don’t censor, second-guess, or hesitate. Just open your mind so that it can make connections that you might not consciously see.

One way of “turning off your inner critic” is to set an intention before you sit down to write. Take a few deep breaths and gently tell yourself that you’re open to whatever it is that your mind is about to do. Consciously allow your subconscious to take over. Intend to follow where the muse leads—even if what you end up with is messy, garbled, clumsy, and unfocused. Embrace that lack of control as part of the process.

2. After you’ve done the brainstorming portion of your poem-writing, put it all down for a while. Don’t rush yourself into creating a masterpiece. Like good food, good writing takes time. When your poem sits quietly for a while, the various flavors of it will mingle and recombine in new ways. You open your poem up to new levels when you leave it alone for a while.

(However, if you’re worried that you’ll lose the “fire” behind your poem, start the revisions right away. You can always put down the revised poem for a while and come back to it later on.)

3. Finally, after you’ve taken the time you need to get a little perspective on your own writing, go back to your poem with your “editing hat” on. Because the creative act is generative and the act of editing is critical, it can help to break those two processes apart and tackle them one at a time. Edit carefully and without judging your own creativity. When critiquing your own writing, always strive to be the generous and sensitive editor that you would be for someone else.

Sometimes writing better poems isn’t a matter of learning more technique or doing more thinking. It’s a matter of NOT thinking. Dig deep to let your subconscious do some writing, and your poetry will grow.