A Favour to Ask: Attracting Poets & Writers to WordPress Campaign

1 – Sign in to your LinkedIn

2 – Go to the link below

3 – Share on social sharing icons, just under the title.

Hello everyone,

I hope you are having or had a good weekend. Could you please share this following post on social media, especially if you have a writer’s LinkedIn profile or reblog it here:

I’m trying to drum up support for the WordPress medium to attract more writers & poets to our community,

“Why I Recommend WordPress to other Writers”

The post can be found here:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/why-i-recommend-wordpress-other-writers-wuji-shiu?trk=prof-pos

Poets and writers need a community that is friendly and easy to create beauty and art, and network,

WordPress is the best I have found of late, do you agree? What are some others you enjoy?

Thanks.

LinkedIn Group for Writers & Poets on WordPress – Please join

Howdy All,

Here on WordPress, we span continents and share a passion for writing, let’s do more to keep in touch,

Link to Join:

WordPress Linkedin Group

If you don’t have a LinkedIn profile or don’t want to join as your work persona, create an artist profile portfolio on LinkedIn and join.

Please invite your friends on WordPress and help make this group fun.

If you have no discussions to make or contribute to, you can always post your blog posts on the promotions section, to increase traffic to your blog and posts.

Thanks,

We need content contributors, social moderators and poets who want more comments on their poems. Lastly please share this post on wordpress so it reaches more poets & writers.

To The place-names of the Future

To The place-names of the Future

You soul, are terrifying and strange
And beautiful with the spirit of poetry
When you weep, everyone knows
How to love and regret and want
Leaning on the balcony railing
Of literature, is enough to be read

If you know how the universe holds
Itself together, with the hands of
The downtrodden sharing, and the
Masters hoarding and profiting
There is no revolution that lasts

Corporations become the new feudal kingdoms
Holding monopolies like Google or Apple
Mere footnotes in the future I am sure
You soul, make up your own destiny
And that’s what I am here to witness

How patient is language, waiting
To be reborn in ovals open all day
To live behind sunblinds and countrysides
And to be spoken on new planets
Where restless silence no longer

Must hug the barren innocence
Of uninhabited landscapes
You soul, are wild and terrifying
And in your sovereign intensity
I think I’ve been changed by your advertisements
The archaic bleached faces of who we were.

Who is your Favorite poet of all-time? Try the Survey!

Hey Everyone,

Here is your chance to celebrate your all-time favorite poets, you will be able to choose a few of the ones in this list who have moved you the most. Tick the boxes next to the poets you treasure the most. These poets were shortlisted from an exhaustive and subjective review of the literature.

If you don’t see your favorites, let us know we can add a few more!

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/363WYDH

Choose the poets who most impacted your own writing, those rare poets who truly you feel are the most influential poets in your life.

Do note: That some of the classical cannon have been omitted from the list quite on purpose: Shakespeare, Milton, Byron, Dante, Goethe, Hugo, etc… (to name a few) to give a chance for more recent and unusual poets to be listed. We’d very much like to add more non-European poets if possible from foreign countries with equal footing for female and male poets represented.

We consider this list to be informative as to some of the best poetic literature humanity has produced recently, so if you don’t know some of these names, I suggest you look them up. Let us know if you “discover” anyone on this list that impresses you.

Please share this post on social media and here, to get a comprehensive survey going, thanks.

The Silent Revolution is Inevitable

– Pictured, Tina Chang (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tina_Chang)

Ascent of Asia

I am haunted by how little our children
Know, what we have done
To each other, to those we deemed
Beneath us, to the Earth…..

How a republic falls and how
Democracy can lie, how News can be distorted
How money hides its debt
By printing more, by pretending we are alright

Or worse, an old idea of Nationalism
Idols of a world out dated, euro-centric
I’m haunted by how little
Millennials realize Asia is the new Queen

Why do they not learn Mandarin, Korean?
We forever think we are the center
Of the globe, but I’m not a daughter
Or a son of East or West

I am haunted by how little writers
Write about revolution, about change
We cannot always repeat what others have said
We cannot always unravel in our

Personal voice, there’s a secret stairway
To broader concerns, more existential themes
There, the ultimate fiction is reality
There is a new world ready to be born
Will you join?

Privacy Unveiled

Privacy Unveiled

Eun Ji, remember when we
Were young? We liked to say
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost?

We used to think in terms of freedom
That had the ability to feel:
So I love you without knowing how
Or when, or from where, or how lovely.

I love you simply, without problems
Of pride, like poetry
Full of sleep as you close your eyes
So intimate to the music that remains

In your heart when all words have fled
Eun Ji, remember we who could not
Remain silent, you who taught
Me so much, from so little contact

The powerful feelings of intoxicating
Mystery, to read a poem of yours
Is to hear it with your eyes
But as a nightingale, Eun Ji,

I cannot find your source
Or where you have gone
And when I feel impoverished
Socially, emotionally, materially

I remember that perhaps I’m not
A poet enough to call forth life’s riches
For the Creator, there is no poverty
Eun Ji, I have heard in your writing

The place where people can speak
Their original human mind
And there all privacy is unveiled.

To be a poet is dangerous

Messages without Knowing

Poets acquire humanity
In their undoing, this
Dangerous self-destructive art
Who dares be ridiculed a poet these days?

This secret subversive pleasure
Isn’t it so, that we are the houses
Of art that try to be haunted
To feel what others dare not!?

Painting they say is silent poetry
Poetry is painting that speaks
But for whom does it speak?
These echoes asking shadows

To dance, that communicates
Without or before understanding
To sit in the dark and sing
To cheer its own solitude

With sweet sounds, where O where
Are the sweet sounds of old?
Poets die trying to be poets
I’ve seen it with my own eyes

Poetry is an escape from emotion
An instinct to tell stories
Like a seer or a prophet in hard times.

EJ’s Utopia

It’s an honour to be a poet

In my own utopia, I am
Living the dream, alright!
I would write to be free

Not as an escape but as a deeper
Layer to living, as a fuller
Realization to feeling
I felt love in words, considerate words

That would reply in
A dozen different ways a second
As a way of self-knowing

Because as a child, I couldn’t speak
I had a stutter and it created
A manuscript in my brain
To become a poet, to become

A frightfully unemployable thing
A poet must remain humble
I’m gifted in humility, simply

It’s an honour to be a poet
That’s an unpopular opinion
Being without a source of profit hurts
But it would hurt more not to write

The brunt of my little pleasure
In this untidy world comes from
Writing it, creating something

Out of nothing, that is more distinctly me
Than you or I could ever guess
In my own utopia, I am not a hero
For I disappear in what I do

That is the peak experience sincerely
When you are gone, no longer
The center of your life, but just

A backwards glance at everybody
In my own Utopia, I’m pretty certain
Every man and woman would
Write a poem…..

In the regime of hunger

No more of this poetry.
Bring on the hard, harsh real life instead;
Let the jingle of verse disappear
Bury the lyrics of my youth

Like precious Ivory of another time
When the creatures of the Earth were free
No more of this poetry.
No more need for the serenity of a poem

For the empty invisible sense of victory
Poetry, I give you a break today
In the regime of hunger, the Earth
Found more useful things, like family;

The full moon burns like a loaf of
Bread in my mouth, my wife
Waiting for me to overcome idleness.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sophia-and-the-Pilgrim-406349902

Homage to Repressed Poetic Virgins

I wanted to affirm life
In a poem, set life in silent offering
A hundred times, pushing the boat
Into beauty, across the water
Dawn, a crayon summer living
On the edge of literature
And love, these comforting moons

I wanted to begin again in wayside streams
Shout out the alphabets of my
Flaming salute of joy, smile
As if I had waited an entire lifetime
To truly know how to smile
Darling, you gave me the yearning stillness
That allowed me to write again

And I was more of a poet, than a dreamer
Because of you, I wanted to optimize
The way I experience the little things
In a forbidden dance in a never-ending night
Where every day was another
Hour of my life, the extraordinary discovery
Of myself in others, loveliness spelled

Out in infinite variety, in caresses
That penciled the soft outlines of the Earth
I wanted to affirm life
Once and for all, in your hips
Your womb the star-foam of all
I had ever wanted, the swaying plentitude
Of the ripe trance of writing and loving

They were like breathing to my tragic poetic side
I wanted to give life to the repressed virgins
And read them their own poetry
Of femininity, while licking the quatrains
Off of their daring free-verse
It was to be a festive summer
Love would soon blot out

The adventure that I had planned
I wanted to affirm writing an empty verse
From all the lessons I never learned
How fleeting was the poetry
Of my brief life, a few pleasurable summers.

Photography Credit: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Desire-374379673