POETRY PLANET INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE December 2022 edition

ANA RITA REYES: There is no place as sweet as our home. It is a habitat where our body, heart, and soul are cultivated and nurtured.

There’s nothing quite as special as the togetherness of family and friends sharing their time, space and laughter.

Is Writing Poetry A Natural Born Talent or gained skill?

Holiday Greeting from the editor!

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ANA RITA REYES

FeaturedArtist C O M I N G

H O M E

There is no place as sweet as our home. It is a habitat where our body, heart, and soul are cultivated and nurtured. I promised that "I shall return" and I want to culminate that commitment this time.

I will return with the fulfillment of my dreamsandhopethatIusedtodesireand think about when I was a child until my teenagelife.Forlongyears,I'vebeeninthe USAtofulfillallmyvisionsandaspiration in life. This country has cheered me with opportunities and various chances. From onejobtoanother,reliableeducation,and zeal to practicecareers.I startedworking fromasimplejobinafleamarketinthe weekendasacashier,and teacheraidein privateChristianFamilyownedDayCare duringtheweekdays. ThenIequippedmyselfbystudyingwhile working that is why my career transition prospers from a teacher assistant to an educator,andnowIaminabetterposition in the academe as an Early Care and EducationDirectorofPrograms.Imanage all Child Development Schools in our organization and train the Early ChildhoodEducatorsinthefield.Itiswork throughperseverance,prayer,andbeinga goaloriented person. I invested in educationbecauseitisthecureforallour social ills.I serve as a Commissioner of Library and Education In District 5, San Jose, California. During my free time I supportourlocalandsmallbusinessesas a Cocreator and admin of FilAM South BayCommunity.EverySunday,Ivolunteer to teach Catechism Class for our High School Students in the The Most Holy TrinityParishChurch.

AlthoughIamsurroundedbybeautiful places, promisingmoments,andblissfulpeopleherein the USA for my health and transformational coaching, I will still come home to refresh my soul and acclaim my accomplishment and victorytogetherwithmyorigins.I'llbehomefor Christmas,thatisthepromiseImadetomyself andmyfamily.IwilltravelmilesfromtheUSA to my endearing country the Philippines. The firsthomethatfortifymyadversityquotientand fosters my spiritual and emotional intelligence. Coming home is a practical exertion of all my tryingandwinningmomentsintheUSAandI willbringittomynativelandsothatmyfamily andpeopleIvaluedwillexperienceandtastethe fruitofallmylabors.

Even if we are in a distant place, at some pointinourlifewearecalledtoreturnhome, to refresh, to rekindle, and fire up our fullness that only our home can give. We retraceourstepshomenotbecausewewant togathermemoriesbutbecausewerecollect thevaluesandvirtuesbeingseededtousby our parents that will propel us to be more profitable and wellrounded individuals. I'll be home because of love. Love is the persevering power thatbridges thedistance betweenmeandmyhomelandandfamily. I pray and I hope that this Christmas, more families will be reunited, the spirit of forgiveness will reign and it's a time of compassion and care for one another, especiallyamongfamily.

A PIECE OF MEMORY

MY HOUSE

I still remember the day when the aroma of my mother’s cooking from our kitchen made me so happy that I ran fast to partake of the food she had prepared. Although we were always fighting like cats and dogs, the voices of my siblings are something I long to hear again in our home sweet home... But those voices, the warmth of my bed, and the house where I grew up? They are now part of my memories. I've worked so hard to rekindle those memories so that I won't forget how our house looked It was a two story house with our bedrooms on the second floor. The second floor has a floor made of wood and there are four windows from which we can see the view outside...…The living room is quite small, with chairs strewn about the area We also had a black and white television that was encased inside a box…I recall our family was the only one in our neighborhood with a television The kitchen is also small, but because there are five of us in the family, it has a dining table with five chairs. Our house is at the top of the hill, with a view of the rice fields below

in order to reach our neighbors (my grandparents and my father’s kin), we had to walk through a rice paddy. We used to pick crabs and gather frogs for lunch at the rice field.

Those were the memories I never wanted to forget because they were all I had. The house has long since been demolished, and the rice field we once owned is now owned by someone else. My sibling and I are scattered like dandelion petals, separated from one another My parents, like their siblings, now have their own separate lives.

There was a bird who was thrown out of her nest because her wings were broken The bird’s only wish was to return to the nest that she had built with her own strength, but she needed to heal her wound first before she could fly back in My parents sold our house to start a new life away from our hometown... It was a decision I never wanted them to make, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had no resources and was too young to care for myself back then.

We settled in a place where we needed to start all over again and adjust to new neighbors, new friends, new surroundings, new school… But like the broken bird, how could one heal so quickly when the wound was so deep?

After suffering significant losses in their business in our old hometown, my parents worked tirelessly to start a new life and invested in farming. But nothing seems to work. At the age of 17, I had to stop studying in order to help with finances by working in town. I kept working and became the breadwinner for quite some time until my parents decided to move to another place again. As luck would have it, just as my siblings and I were settling in with our new neighbors and adjusting to our new friends, my parents decided that the new place was not good for them….When we decided to settle in my mother's hometown, where fishing is the main source of income, we switched from farming to fishing... My brother became our breadwinner after adapting to fishing in the new town… We were not able to have our own house and had to rent a place to live in... Life was hard, but with me and my brother working hard to earn a living, it was supposed to be okay. But then my parents decided to go back to our old town which never seemed to welcome us! When they returned to my father's hometown, I chose to stay rather than accompany them... And with that final move, our family was ultimately scattered. Mom decided to abandon Dad in favor of someone else... My sister lived with Dad, my brother with Grandma, and I, like the broken bird, looked for a safe haven and a place to call home... I moved from job to job, trying to make a living in order to survive… I worked like a dog, and thought like a bird… There were plenty of opportunities to start a family and build a home…But then, where is home? I was tempted to create my own family but first and foremost, I wanted to be able to return home, to the place where I grew up, where I started to dream and where I always wanted to be embraced and welcomed…The longing to be able to come back home has always been my goal, even if life appears to be going well for me in the various places where opportunities have taken me..

EMPTY PROMISES

It is never easy to find someone who understands your way of thinking Your goals seem foreign to them Even if they promise to make you happy, the likelihood of that happening is close to zero percent

My heart became numb to sweet talks and serenading; relationships were just passing through, as I knew they would never work out

Although I have always wished for a home and to build a family of my own, my main desire is for my hometown to accept and embrace me

HOMETOWN

The green grasses, a singing owl hiding in the tall bushes, the cashew trees full of yellow fruits just waiting to be picked, the gurgle of the flowing river, the towering trees, bamboo, the whoosh of the wind as it blows in mid afternoon, the wonderful aroma of rice which is ripe for harvesting—such memories are so vivid in my mind, I would wish to live there someday when my feet will finally take me back to Pozorrubio, my beloved hometown. Sadly, life’s circumstances will not allow me to go back there.. Until one day, an opportunity presented itself and allowed me to return. However, it was not an easy task. Would I be welcome to stay here even if I wanted to?

When the bird’s wing finally healed, she decided to fly up to her nest, only to find out that someone had already claimed it as their own…. Homeless and a nobody, where will I stay? I rented a room to begin my life again. It was not easy, but I made it anyway. And, just like a miracle, my hometown granted my wish. In his lap, I found my other half that completed my dream… The bird decided to build a new nest in the same tree and begin a new life, nestling there until she finally had a family and children of her own… The bird may have been gone for a long time, but it knew where it belonged...

After ten years of meandering, I finally returned home…I finally found my place, a house of my own, a family with children...

There is no such thing as a perfect life, but my dream came true when I returned home after wandering for so long because here in my home, I found solace... It is true—there is no place like home.

I'M COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Every year around Christmas, I begin to reflect on the year gone by and what the year has meant for me. This year has been different. Especially post covid, most of us have understood the value of living the little pleasures of life and the essence of how fragile our breath is. So I decided to get back to being a working woman and shifted my career profile from designing buildings to teaching small children. The decision was momentous but I felt confident that at this juncture of my life, I rather work for pleasure than for my pay scale and prioritize my children and my passion for writing .It's been a significant year for me as I shifted my roles from the corporate sector to education sector but a fulfilling one! If there is one thing I've learned this year is there is no limit to what one can acquire if one is willing to give their all to learn and grow in a particular direction. Children have been the best healers and pure sunshine to my soul. Being with them, giving them my time and knowledge has been more than satisfying. The forever challenging work life balance also seem to working out with the timings of the school much lesser as compared to my corporate high demanding previous career profile For all that I am yet to become or learn and for all that I have learned and understood, I thank God for all the endless miracles that occurred this past year to make me feel happier about my life. With each year as I feel more at peace with who I am so I thank God for always showing me the way. Telling me that finding a home in myself is the best gift I can give myself. So I am coming home to myself this Christmas, in supplication as I bow down with folded hands and thank my lord for loving me and guiding me to become the person I am today.

INDIAN PERSPECTIVE

Tanushi Singh

MIGRANTS’ VOICES

Bernadith De La Cruz

Spent half of my life away from home and coming home for Christmas, I can say that, I still can count it to my fingers Miles and miles and oceans away from home, celebrating the season alone, alone in the four corners of my second home. Embracing the loneliness is the only thing I can do to celebrate Christmas

I remember the “ Aguinaldo “, the “ Simbang Gabi “, the “Caroling” , the exchange gifts, the hanging of socks hoping Santa will give me something, and of course the “Keso de Bola”, spaghetti, bread loaf, pancit and soda, the typical Filipino Christmas dishes and tradition.

All of these are but a dream during my stay abroad as a migrant worker. Nothing can compare the joy of the season back home with our beloved family. Some of our fellows, experienced stress and depression during the season especially if they can’t go home as we always used to have a complete family bonding during Christmas For you to understand what migrant workers feelings, I’ve reached out some of random OFW’s around in my workplace in Hongkong.

If there’s a chance, I preferred coming home for Christmas because seeing my family and being with them gives joy to my heart. The spirit of camaraderie between siblings and extended family will be preserved year after year during the season believing God sent His Son to bless and save us all.

Ice Viernes Baguio City, Philippines

OFW Hongkong

In my 17 years of not having the chance to celebrate Christmas at home with my family, I'm already used to it, the season is just nothing, no homesickness felt. It is like just a normal day. It is also maybe because I was treated like a family by my bosses

Hazel Deloria Nueva Invencion, Barotac Viejo, Philippines

OFW Hongkong

I always wanted to be with my family every Christmas, that’s the only time we can be altogether celebrating and I’m happy giving gifts to my family. Even just a simple meal together will bring laughter to us all feeling the love to each other

Doris Lagunda Southern Leyte, Philippines OFW Hongkong

Nowadays, Christmas makes me nervous The excitement of coming home for Christmas already gone because of money matters. You can’t give a cent nowadays, kids will ask unfortunately for a higher amount otherwise don’t give at all. The essence of Christmas is fading bit by bit Material things versus spiritual knowledge, and sad to say material things are taking its spot.

They have different point of views But the most important is, we all know that we celebrate Christmas to honor Jesus Christ, our Lord and our personal Savior. And coming home for this special season creates a big impact to each one of us for we believe that a family that stays together in a very special events of our lives preserves and strengthens the love we had in our home.

Agnes Torrento Duenas, Iloilo OFW Hongkong

DearLove, ItiswithmyheartthatIwritetoyou.TheworldthatIlivedin isinconvenientandincompletewithoutyou.Ihaveadeepholeinme thatonlyyourlovecanfill.Youwouldnotknowwhatthismeansto me.AsIstandontheblinkofcollapseandemptiness,Idrawnearto Christmas,iswhenIrememberthatIwillsoonbewithyou.PraythatI amtransferredtothispartofthecompanyofficewhereIdoseeyou often.IdodescribetheplaceIliveandhowemptyitiswithoutyou.It seemsasifthecoldnessmultiplywhenIamalone.Idanceandhere your voice and dream we were kissing and we're on the bed. I do rememberthelasttimeweheldeachother.Iwasnotashamedtotell youthatIloveyou.Yourworldcollidedwithmeallthetime.Youarea champion.Youareawinner.IwillbehomesoonforChristmas.Ihave startedabusinessthatwillendus,beingtogether.Ihavepaidforthe office.

The word that you hear is right and real. The address of my smallofficeisinourstreet.Gotheretomorrowandstartworkonit. Youareachampionandawinner.Goandmaketheofficework.

You see the world I live would be yours. I am already making impactswiththeoffice.Youshouldtrytomakeitwork.Iloveyouand Ireallydo.Workisnotgoodifittakesyouawayfromyourlovedones. If your children has to be trained by the maid. They will love your maidmorethanyou.Iprayyoushallunderstandit.Ishallneverleave yoursidewhenIcomebackthisChristmas.Weshallliveashappilyas wewantto.Wewalkneverbeseparatedfromeachotheragain.

Sincerely, OkechukwuChidoluoVitus

Its been some time since we took the last flight home so this Christmas can’t come fast enough So much has changed since our last visit and we must prepare ourselves for each one Many are celebrations of new unions, new homes, new ways of life and newborns. Some more solemnly carry the weight of sorrow where duty to tribal customs and traditions will be to the forefront

In preparation we will pack colours to wear for the warm summer days in the Sun Blacks and lime greens will lay alongside for the ‘just in case’ duty calls. Next I will silently meander through my storehouse of memories and carefully take a selection from the shelves therein and wrap them in love ready for exchange Inner butterflies will be aflutter as we draw nearer to each leg toward the final destination All that is wished for is that we all make it home safely without too many if any delays When we land we will be greeted with smiles, hugs and tears, of joy. It is on the long ride home from the airport that the previously mapped itinerary will have its first of no doubt many amendments. Duty will call us early on in our stay to the gates of our Urupa to lay flowers, song and prayer at the final resting places of those called home to God during our absence

My heart will break as I look upon the porcelain portraits and gold and silver words embossed and graciously, remember. The first of many of the most cherished love wrapped memorized gifts will be exchanged here with the utmost respect. Silence and listening will be my honour so I may take each word given and bring them to my heart to embrace before placing them among the safely kept in my storehouse of memories Before we pass back through the gates we will sprinkle water and prayer over ourselves as we bid our beloveds farewell A Karanga will call us in to the warmth of the Wharekai where the senses will come alive with the aromas of hot food, colourful tables and the sounds of home greeting us in abundance It is here that all woes settle and the talk of daily happenings rise in the chorus of chatter. It is also here that the gathering of lines will present all the newborns and new loves blessed to the houses for introduction Songs in our native tongue will ring out sweetly, proudly, powerfully to highlight the level of skill attained by groups ranging from preschoolers through to the teenagers.

SIMEON

After ward all hands will be on deck to swoop dishes, clean tables and reset the kitchen areas for the next round of food preparation A job previously held and enjoyed by myself and my siblings, passed now to the generations after us The cooking we still have a hand in, the cleaning though we’ve gladly let the younger ones take over From here we’ll slowly make our way in to the Wharenui to prepare our beds among the generations to relax, play cards, sing some songs, tell stories, gossip, laugh and rock babies to sleep I will lay upon my pillow and look at the walls covered with the wooden framed smiles frozen forever in time and again graciously, remember. It is usually beneficial not to be too hungry for tales and sharing so you can fall to sleep before the symphony of snoring begins. Its interesting that here in the city I sometimes need the aid of my alarm to wake to the new day. At home though the sound of the beautiful singing Korimako calls forth the dawn and rising with the first rays feels more like a blessing

These days and nights will repeat during our time home and to be honest I can’t wait There’s nothing quite as special as the togetherness of Whanau and friends sharing their time, space and laughter Even the time spent with just our siblings all lying on the same bed catching up, enquiring about each others health status and well being just as we did when our parents were alive is precious Fussing over each other, even now in my fifties I’m still one of the babies and it is only in the presence of my siblings that when I hear the word ‘baby’ called, its me being called to. There is so much to look forward to this trip home and again if I’m being completely honest, I wish I didn’t have to return back here to the city Although I am thankful in the knowledge that it won’t be much longer before it’s not a trip home, but, a return

SHAMAIN

GRACE SITHARAMAN

All of a sudden, I stumbled upon an idea. I decided I shall buy something handmade from grannies who knit and crochet at the Senior Citizens' shelter.

I wish to be home this Christmas but to who do i go to? No one shall wait for me at the rickety wooden gate Ma, shall no more keep the Christmas goodies ready, so the moment I enter the courtyard, the aroma of warm spices, especially Cinnamon would make me feel home. Hot water in large aluminum dekchis (vessels), my home wear and toiletries kept in order.

The bed ready for afternoon nap, with blankets and quilts dry cleaned and sunned. All these seem to be once upon a time story! Those good old days are now a memory, an off colored tapestry with worn out embroidery. Nevertheless, I shall be home this Christmas My spike and span farm house now more or less a wild weeding grove entwined with the old time tales, under the supervision of a caretaker Jagath.

I shall go home to my unkempt farmhouse and relive the memories and recreate some. Memories are the only things which smell sweet with time I have not informed my caretaker and would surprise him. I plan to dress up like an early Santa and beat the wit out of him I have shopped for all those Christmas goodies which I would shop for Ma Boxes of dry fruits and cookies, marzipan and chocolates. She would insist 10 nos of special Christmas gifts for her friends It could be anything handmade. Maybe shawls and stoles, tea cozy, knitted gloves As I recall her wish list my eyes soften and I am at a loss, as I have to take just 10 and not 11. Then I wiped off my tears and decided, let's be a generous baker this Christmas and pack a Baker's dozen.

The most interesting part is grannies use granny’s stich to do the crochet. What coincidence! This gesture delighted many elders there. I only stopped at buying 50 nos. colorful knitted stoles. There were 50 grannies and I wished all of them to feel glad. Maaaaaaaaa! I am coming home for Christmas and without you it is not going to be the same but I am going to give it my best shot. I am carrying with me the old Christmas cards you would send me. I am going to put it on the dusty Christmas tree locked up in the attic. I will try to make those cinnamon rose cookies and let every passerby sniff its essence. Yes, that reminds me I ought to invite the Carol singers from the village to stop by our home. Ma, would happily serve them a slice of cake and hot tea in earthen cups. I recall those Carol singers with great fondness. Ha! Ha! Ha! So funny! they were actually village folk singers, trained for survival in all kinds of music. Drunken Singers of all seasons, available for lending their music and voice in near tattered clothes. Dancing and singing throwing their hands and legs. In tune, off tune, in tune... banging their pastoral musical instruments with a petromax paraffin light guiding them through the forest path into our village. Ma would value their versatility and one world society. She would give them a special invite to sing carols extra time on their rounds Followed by cake, cookies and tea. That is also on my cards. I don't remember if there is a nativity set lying in the attic. Hmmm! I shall buy one if I find the Nativity family members have grown up and gone for a walk! I shall dress up like Santa and go around the neighborhood to meet Ma's friends. Rudolph, yes, I too have one to accompany me, but it's not a reindeer but Ma's dear pariah. Maaaa, where are you? Are you listening to my plans? On Christmas Eve, I shall attend midnight service and then shall visit our family tomb in the cemetery Christmas, I shall begin with you, baba and brother Maaaaaaaa! I wish to live your legacy in our home among the weeds. Relive and recreate all that you did for us When days were tough and means were scarce. Maaaa! You have always been my lady Santa!

ANJANA PRASAD

Anna kept looking at the wall clock, ticking... Sound against the stillness of her one bedroom apartment. Christmas was drawing near. Chill in air was doused in whiff of dry leaves and hues. She longed to return to her family this yuletide. The aroma of freshly baked plum cake filled her nostrils, taking her to her hometown.

Reminiscing Christmas feast was no less than a treasure. Party thrown by her parents on this occasion always remained as a moment to cherish the whole year. Five years back in the small town of Mysore.

A giant Christmas tree stood in the center of the living room. Buttercream cookies, plum cake loaded with dry fruits gingerbread and many delicacies tempted her and her siblings. Gifts for everyone lay under a fairy light lit Christmas tree. The hall filled with laughter and giggles. Rattles of saucer and cup amidst carols and celebration.

Eldest of five younger brothers and sisters. Anna tried to share the responsibility of supporting her family. Raising seven members of the family wasn't an easy task after her father's death, Everything became very complex. With the rising moon came his lifeless body. He had met with an accident. His car was run over by a carrier truck on a highway. Nothing was the same on that Christmas eve. Anna felt like a spectator to own her life. Condolences came, tears came, smiles passed them by, while carols witnessed their tragedy. Ironic, she thought life seemed an endless nightmare for the Varghese family. She grew from a seventeen year old to an adult. She became maa's best friend. Unsaid conversations eased the pain for mother and daughter. Anna realized the hardships her mother was facing. All the while, the savings were slipping out fast. Reality had hit them hard. Her mother had opened a flower shop on the corner of the street. She sighed and bit her lips recalling old memories and slouched on the brown leathery couch. Running her fingers over the blanket she sighed. Her stupor was broken by the buzz of the telephone. It was maa on the other end, inviting her to come home for Christmas. "Anna...?", Yeah mom , Maa wanted her to meet Jacob her childhood friend this time around. She had another plan. Adamant to wipe the memories of that dark Christmas from their lives and start fresh all over again.

Jacob was her childhood crush But did she love him, she questioned herself? After she moved to a nearby city for a job, Jacob and his family remained a pillar of support "Come home and meet Jacob " (Six feet tall handsome guy with hazel eyes.) Falling in love once again. Not bad, she thought. Maa firmly said, "No excuses this time I will even cook all your favourite dishes. It's time to move on Anna... Time to wipe all toll and tears." Mama said, Let's gather sunshine in our laps and brave the snow, seal the cracks with the joy of gold. Time to heal our broken souls.

Homecoming this Christmas will mend the broken vases of our life.

Anna opened the window and welcomed the fresh air

Outside a gorgeous sky and autumn hues embraced her. Anna took out her notepad and started scribbling a list of what to buy for her siblings, maa, Jacob and his family, whom she could now call her own. A long list of perfumes, gift hampers, chocolates and many more

The mist had cleared from her mind. Time to start afresh, hushed the breeze. Dad seemed to smile from the frame

Tints of gold and sunshine filled her with warmth. Kintsugi the art of healing, known as 'kintsukuroi' Life graced, just like the art of Japan of repairing broken pottery with gold dust, she thought.

Accepting life as it comes, transcends joy.

The word Poetry is derived from the Greek "poiesis", which actually if simplified is "making", a form of literature that uses aesthetic and often rhythmic composition of words and verses. Well, that's according to what I've read about and understand regarding to this very unique way of expressing one's idea and feelings in rhyming style.

I couldn't pinpoint the exact date of when was the earliest poetry being written but as far as I am concern it has been there for thousand of years even before the time of Christ it already exist, unlike some of the well known poets in early 13th century which bears the Sonnet Form and the importance of restoration of poetry in the 17th century also the satirical verses made by John Dryden and if not mistaken Alexander Pope.

There are many ways to harness your skills in writing poetry which being developed in the past years and even as today, like ending rhyme, syllable counts, sound alike style and other poetic styles and forms which will help you enhance you writing skills better. Actually, it's a gained skill for those people with passionate hearts in "making" verses, the kind of language with feelings.

I asked poets from around the world.. Let us read their pieces of opinions

A poet once said ‘you are only as great as your own beliefs.’ I hear this louder than the words themselves express. For we all have a natural talent or a calling if you will, yet we can often cut ourselves short in hindsight with the limitations that we place upon ourselves. Some are indeed born with the gift of the gab or as I would prefer to say it, to have a way with words. Whilst others it is an acquired skill through the pain staking task of study to obtain further knowledge.

Yet just like anything else in life or even just life in itself we never stop learning, be it a natural talent or not. Of course, there are exceptions to these rules and there are those who are 100% natural talent without any effort whatsoever and then there are those that no matter how hard they try to learn or understand never acquire the ability to write poetry to its full potential and that's okay because their talents must lay somewhere else, yet that doesn't mean they can't relate to a poem or poets choice of words. So what defines a good poet from the exceptional? Is the exceptional poet the one with raw God given talent or is it the poet who had to study to hone the skills that never came naturally? Well, I believe it's both, though one would come easily whilst the other would have been learnt through a commitment to do so. Yet both have the potential of being great poets or even become exceptional at the creative writing style of poetry.

Imagination also plays a massive part in poetry, being able to envision the story into words to evoke the reader's emotional response to what you are saying is a pivotal part of poetry. Whilst keeping in mind the way that you may perceive or read your poem may not always be how somebody else will and each reader may have a different point of view and will read or relate to your poetry differently.

Yet nothing in poetry is clear cut and more often than not less is more with the use of words in poetry and it's not always those fancy words that make a poem exceptional. Finding your style though can be the difference between becoming a good poet and having the ability to captivate a nation so to speak. Though the task nowadays is not so simple due to this digital era we live in and the high probability that your style is just like another’s.

So with that my advice to you is to try and place a piece of yourself in every poem that you write. Be willing to learn, learn and learn, because, in this fast paced world where things are moving faster than we are willing to run, we need to be willing to learn and grow, for technology has replaced so many interpersonal skills and you don't get much more personal than poetry. So, if poetry is your passion, then run with it before it runs away from you.

VEE BARNES

ARE POETS BORN OR MADE?

Most poets are born with an inherent talent to write poetry, although poetry can be learnt through school or reading other people's works A poet tends to be a person born with natural empathy, and the need to see justice prevailing. It is this natural trait of feeling for others which causes a person to write on behalf of those who have no means or do not know how to express themselves and as such a poet becomes the voice of the conscience of others. The voice of the voiceless.

In order to communicate better the feelings of others, a poet needs to continuously hon poetry writing skills by reading different styles of poetry, from the classical to the contemporary right through to exotic forms, but, eventually with time a poet develops a unique style where by reading a line or two you can get an inkling of inked a piece So, whether a poet is made or born is up for debate, but certainly it takes a certain personality, one imbued with empathy and the patience to brave the lonely moments when words swirl in the mind, to the extent a poet is compelled to write those thoughts and organise them in a way which communicates a message and feeling.

As with anything regarding humans, generalisations and stereotypes are hard to explain, but for myself, i know i write poetry out of compulsion rather than need, which seems to suggest a genetic trait of some sort So, by and large, i think poets are born rather than made but i think the debate rages on.

We always believe that being a writer was in our blood or we are born with it. The truth was anyone can become a writer. Becoming a writer doesn't happen overnight, it takes perseverance and effort. Even those who are renowned writers start from scratch before they become successful. It takes a lot of hard work, dedication, and devotion. As they say, there is no shortcut to victory, we need to work hard and never give up or quit. Practice every day. As they said practice makes perfect. Write when you are inspired. Write when you are not in the mood. Writers don't only write when they are inspired, they write every time. They let their imaginations flow on their ink and let their heart paint their emotions on the papers. They write because they love what they are doing. As long as you love what you are doing, forget about the rules in writing. Build your own identity. There is always a place for your voice in the world. Do not compare yourself to those who are successful, just believe in your self you can be there too. Embrace your fears and make sure you can stand and walk along with the giants. If your writing is bad there are also, rephrasing websites and grammar checkers that can help you make your writing not bad, We are living in a computer era where technology was invented to help us to make our work easier. But even technology was on our menu, never stop to feed yourself with new food of knowledge that can help you in your writing., that can help you to improve more on your talents Believe in yourself that you can! Never stop dreaming. You have always place in the market, trust me If you want to become a good writer, add some books to your cup of coffee I have always believed that reading is important if you want to become a great writer. Even though not everyone is fun of reading but they are good writers. But reading will enhance your understanding and your surroundings To write good poetry, one must understand how to use the writing elements and knows how to turn words into a work of art Exercise always your writing skills until it will turn into the "voice of your bones", the" beat of your heart" and the "breath of your soul". When you succeed, then you will become an invincible writer

JANET ROSE LICUDO

DELUKE MUWANIGWA

ULMA TABOADA

Writing poetry is a skill ,it is a knowledge of techniques that needs mastery and understanding Talent is the drive to develop that skill, it can be molded as well through practice, experience and training Poetry is my refuge when I am weary and feeling lonely I want to talk through my poems without being interrupted specially when beautiful thoughts and words comes into my mind I am not a good poet , so to develop my writing skills in poetry I tried to participate in some challenges given, like a game win or lose I gave my best, no regrets

For the past four year since I became a member of this group "Poetry Planet", my writing skills improved My heart flutters with happiness when some of my poems were able to get an award or appreciated, there is a feeling of achievement on my part About my grammar I know its not perfect, but I think a slight twist of some words or phrase sometimes makes the poem interesting, catchy and beautiful

Poetry is an art springing from a latent talent and a natural passion easily developed in the lengua franca or native tongue of the poet's people His emotions just flow with the words of his parents and the locals around so with the figures of speech common to his culture and milieu

It is a honed talent and a cultivated passion developed chiefly through reading and study in a language other than his own A Filipino writer, for instance, who speaks Sugbuanon, has to learn too other Filipino languages to get the full grasp of his own people's psyche. If he writes in English he has to learn grammar and build a working vocabulary with distinctive nuances in British, American, Canadian or Australian usage. Even travel is needed to write with depth; in addition, a bank of experiences and to boot,a good memory of things observed. The poet too has the knock for listening well and keep abreast with the times to be an influencer and an inspiration.

The second type of poet learns his refinement only with age

LORETA BANDE

MARGARET KARIM

Poetry is an ancient tradition, part of oral story telling. Prior to writing, it was used as a method of entertainment, communicating knowledge and retaining cultural customs It is suggested rhymes were included to facilitate the memorizing process. Written poetry has similar aims It appears human beings have long valued, and been fascinated by, poetic expression.

I believe, foremost, a talented poet is passionate about words. Innately driven by creativity. Subconscious and conscious minds, forever on high alert, observing, juggling ideas. Inspiration can strike at any time, in a supermarket queue, a doctor's surgery, reading a book, listening to music; even in sleep. Additionally, a good poet, also leaves a little of their essence in each piece. I call this a signature voice. Its merits are recognized and appreciated, regardless of whether theme of poem appeals personally. Many poets are not comfortable metaphorically disrobing their spirit to this level. Subsequently their work whilst pleasing, lacks an individual spark, preventing it attaining a higher classification.

An accomplished poet is inherently compelled to evolve their craft. They seek freshness in pieces and wish to maintain a level of consistency throughout Thus they research topics imagination presents, look up meanings of unfamiliar words, incorporate these into existing vocabulary. They work at improving grammar, experiment with genres far from usual comfort zone, eager to enhance existing skills, develop new ones. Reason for this is twofold Mainly for their own pleasure and satisfaction, but also out of respect for readers. In conclusion, for me, a gifted poet has raw talent, the determination to foster it with hard work and a signature voice.

W.H. Hudson defines literature ‘an expression of life through the medium of language’ Since man is the supreme creation of God, gradually acquiring knowledge of language, then why do we say ‘Poet is born with passion for poetry’ . A student asked me why we can't all be poets though we all know language I believe that poetry is shaped by a sensitive mind's minute observation of life’s experiences and evaluation A poet is a person who has a keen eye for his surroundings, feels oneness with common humanity touching both mind and heart at multiple levels. Then he gives shape and words to those ponderings, well textured, pretty and comely words, makes them fragrant with the perfume of courtesy, embroider them with hues of emotions, blends them with exquisite delight and finally enwraps them in passionate, precise and poignant poetry. Is a poet really born or is the talent inborn? Some feel inspired as William Shakespeare drew inspiration from Geoffrey Chaucer and William Wordsworth from Dorothy Wordsworth’s journal yet there are many who believe that poetry comes naturally just as John Keats famously said, “If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree, it had better not come at all ” True, great poets had a way of perceiving things and thoughts as we don’t possess May be they are God gifted But we can’t deny the fact that it takes years of diligence to write a few pearls of wisdom and worth Even after years of learning and reading literature, whenever I try words seem like strangers or aliens coming from some other planet and I unfurnished them, re shuffle them, make them twist, turn till my thoughts bear a stark resemblance to them and the notes of orchestra start playing rhythmically in my mind, mesmerizing me with ecstasy of creative attainment .

RITU KAMRA KUMAR

DANIEL MILTZ

THE TALENT OF A POET

They could say that verse is unimportant in light of the fact it is boring to read and there is a greater number of individuals composing verse than there is feeling a debt of gratitude. Verse is important in because it is a lot more limited and simpler to peruse contrasted with reading a book Verse is extremely energizing to navigate given that it communicates the sensations of the author and places the peruser from the essayist's point of view

Bringing the sensation of verse into the reader selves is a remarkable ability. A writer whose composition at first can be taken to be a straightforward satire yet when examined all the more cautiously, it tends to be deciphered as an undeniably more intricate content. The artist's utilization of symbolism and tone might give the browser an intelligent film in their minds when they read his/her writing. What makes poetics an astonishing workmanship The writer should accept the peruser on a magnificent excursion through the course of sonnet creation, and through the human brain by utilizing extraordinary observational abilities, taking note of and expounding on regular conditions in realistic detail In the realm of verse, the standards that are all applied to composing books are overlooked and a piece of craftsmanship is made that is finished. To wrap things up, a more stimulating creation of a talented poet is taking the reader on a wonderful journey through the process of narrative creation. They are sonnets that recount stories There is a start, which acquaints the foundation with the story, a center which tells the activity of the occasion, and an end, which finishes up and sums up the story What are the beginnings of narrative poems? It is the most established type of verse. Some time before there was paper to compose on or ink to compose with, long before the invention of the printing press, people often shared stories as a form of entertainment

Poetry is such a awesome gift from ALMIGHTY GOD

It's the spiritual power ,for helping to make the dreamy tower.

That tower will be building with so many imaginations. Feelings dance there as mystic butterflies. Sky comes as a vast canvas. Cloud floats as petals of flowers Fragrance of flower acts as love catcher of dreamy hub. Thoughts in motion will be there all the times to help the dear mind for enjoying each and every moment, even in the dark site; by shining with ray of spiritual words. All may be in real form with the spiritual vision of poetic essence

It's a great art.

But it can be bloomed with different ways, for which need to learn those patterns After using some awesome formats, they will dance better to best way of the imaginations flow. And help the mind to glow all times as sparkling star

Poetry is the passion to hold any emotion, for controlling the minds condition most of the times, it helps to heal any pain by scattering its magic itself A connection which can't be built forcefully but comes with beautiful thoughts of mind ,with a glorious ride of Mystic Feelings!!!

Poetry turns to a friend, who never forgets the trend of life, to hold itself. How can? How come? I can share with this experience I was not a poetess But I love to read poems. When my mind was stocked, and I didn't help myself then I hold the hand of poetry. Just a magic! I share my thoughts abruptly, nothing else. But after that I feel so relax, an unexpected feeling, heals my pain. That helps me to cheer up. Wow! I love this so much Gradually it turns to my best friend and I share everything with my friend. And finally, by the magic of my friend, I have discovered myself in this mystic poetic lane I don't know how and when it's happened? But it's true, indeed. Today I can feel...it's my best part of life, sharing my imaginations with spiritual essence of words.

AFROSE ASAD

EMOTIONAL COLLABORATION

VICKI HANGREN HAULER

Poetry can take many forms. It can paint beautiful pictures with well chosen words but if the poet has not described their lines with heartfelt feelings that the reader can personally experience, the poem remains very bland and of little interest The power of poetry happens when the author conveys their thoughts in such vivid fashion that the reader experiences the magic of personally understanding the intensity by merely immersing themselves among these words I believe that poets possess a natural gift of being able to express themselves with the written word.

I will tell you what I think, what I know from experience. As a young girl I loved reading I loved the places it took me, the thoughts it formed in my mind, how it tickled my imagination. I craved it like most crave the air they breathe With that love, my desire of words and therefore my knowledge of words, increased exponentially I was reading high school level before kindergarten. When I was 10 years old, I began writing romance and fantasy stories And then I fell hard for poetry I couldn't write enough...or did it write me? So in some of us lives a fiery spirit of passion that forms itself and bonds deeply to our hearts and souls.

I experimented with art, inks, oils and pastels I tried singing, but no, writing was my devoted muse. I believe with all my heart that everyone can learn to write anything, books, poetry, lyrics, essays etc. But not everyone has a passion, an innate need to use words to paint the pictures on the canvas of their minds and therefore you have a writer whose work has no life. Studying different styles and forms with simile, meter and metaphor really ramps up the building molten fire deep inside where ideas are formed However one thing that is a pet peeve of mine, and I notice that thousands of poets can be seen doing it A severely limited ability to form correct phrases with correct grammar and misspellings. With all the free computer and internet tools we have today it is (to me) a flagrant, lazy and almost unforgivable act of ignorance and disrespect to pepper sentences with periods out of place, commas, colons and semicolons absent or overused. Best to have no punctuation than incorrectly used punctuation

Today we are all of us blessed by the internet as a learning tool We've never before had such access to such a wealth of knowledge. In my humble opinion, yes, humble; though it certainly doesn't sound it, it is almost inexcusable to not know how to perform correctly the particular craft that we have claimed!

One thing I've learned great things from, and you hardly see this anymore; is to open myself up to critique I value the time and effort someone puts into showing me what is right and wrong about what I do They care That is priceless and timeless. I am the poet/writer I am today because I listened and took good advice PAMELA TENNANT

But, as with any talent, the more time given to practicing form and researching ways to embellish their thought expression can lead the way to clearer understanding. How rewarding it is when our research confirms our theory and our poetry provokes the reader to genuine emotion! I want my poetry to capture attention. I want the reader to enjoy discovering a glimpse into my soul I want to have their emotions intertwining with mine.

A combination of training and research of grammar with the ability to let your soul emerge and be shared are the true keys to unlocking the minds of poet and reader alike. Satisfaction is only realized through mutual commiseration of thoughts on fire! Achievement in poetry occurs when the poet can convey an emotional understanding through their interlacing of feelings shown in correct grammatical form You lose your audience when no attempt is made to consistently enhance your poem from start to finish in correct grammatical progression The skilled poet needs to lead the reader to an emotional crescendo as the poem unfolds to it’s completion

Poetry should begin with an idea that needs to be shared, continuously teasing the reader to develop a strong emotional attachment using interesting grammatical form. How satisfying it is to take the reader on a journey full of emotional collaboration

VICKI HANGREN HAULER

SHAMAIN SIMEON

Talent Vs Molded

One of my first encounters with poetry was winning prime seats to hear the last reading given by noted Maori poet Hone Tuwhare. After nearly 30yrs his poem titled 'Rain' still touches my heart. In seven short lines he managed to carry a range of poetic nuances. Onomatopoeia, alliteration, imagery, personal pronoun, listing and repetition. All new words for me at that time but oh how the simplicity in this short piece stirred my emotions.

On Children by Kahlil Gibran gave me the courage to let my son go out in to the World to flourish on his own. Both poets inspired a type of goodness, a new and different understanding of my then reality. It is this same stirring of emotions I aspire to transmit when penning my own thoughts.

For in a positive or negative response there is learning to be gained In all honesty my own newly developed knowing of poetry I can attribute to being invited to this very page. The challenges offering heritage, mechanics and examples opened a door to a new found love of poetry Being referred to as 'a poet' right here filled me with jubilation and encouragement to keep going. Most times with the help of Google thesaurus and dictionary I guess for me there is no wrong or right answer in regards to who is better. The educated poet and naturally gifted uneducated poet both have a place in the World of poetry For what inspires me others may find boring and uninspiring. So with that said, personally, I will continue to write from the heart and celebrate a positive response. A negative response I will chalk up to creative sharing and take it as encouragement to grow

My Perception of Poetry

I started writing poems at the age of ten. The loneliness within and fear outside made me express myself on pieces of papers Those pieces were always hidden under the lining sheets of cupboard. I could not show those poems to anybody. But they were my saving grace They protected me from depression They stopped me from going mad. Poetry just sprouts in a lonely heart in a sad existence. The natural poet does not have to learn grammar. Poetry flows from nowhere, like a geyser in the middle of cool water body The source of that hot spring just appears from the depth of the earth. I lived in a joint family. Still, I was lonely. When whole family went out for excursion or to meet some elative, living far off, I was never part of my siblings’ conversation. I would look at the trees that were running in opposite direction. I would think of places where they were going. Trees didn’t go anywhere; it was my imagination Imagination gives birth to poetry. When I looked at the floating clouds, I saw various shapes they were constantly taking and thought of different animals or angels These figures were parts of myths and children’s stories Those outing were full of images and fictions. Since I had to mesmerize those stories, I transformed them into poetry. Poetry is easy to remember Back home I would write them down Those poems were spontaneous. One may not learn the art and nuances of music, yet one can sing if one has natural tune in heart. Melody is a gift Sweet and lyrical voice is a talent without which one may acquire all the knowledge of music, still may not be able to sing. That’s why some talented and knowledgeable persons become music directors and others sing as playback singers

Same can be said about poetry. Yes! At a later stage one has to polish one’s talent and learn the grammar and different forms of poetic art. There are many poets of ancient times who were not even literate. The rhyming, syllables and meter in their couplets and poems are flawless. I know about Indian poetry which is taught in the universities. Hence poetry is, first, an impulsive and often impromptu expression. It can be improved like anything else. It can be molded to write in a special form. People can be natural story tellers or they be taught the art of speaking if they participate in seminar or do research on myths and fables. Yet, nothing beats the gift and talent.

"What are you going to have for breakfast, baby doll?" I asked my four year old daughter as I was getting her ready for school one morning. Throwing her eyes solemnly to heaven, as if communing with God, she pause for a few seconds and said, "Um... tree and complex."

I looked at her blankly Her face broke into a bright smile, “It's tea and cornflakes.” I smiled to myself, thinking could any Bard have figured out the rhyming words.

When I went to pick up my daughter at the end of the school day, I found her in the playground standing with another pupil about the same age. I noticed that the kid was quietly crying I pulled the kid to me and wiped her tears I asked her why she was hurt. The kid said she was crying because my daughter said she was a chimp I turned to my daughter, threatening to slap her across the face. “Why would you say that your friend is a chimp?" I snapped “I didn’t say that she is a chimp,“ she replied, quite unflinchingly, “I said that she is like a chimp.” The bystanders burst out laughing The kid too was mollified and stopped crying. On the ride home, I was buried in deep thought. Here is a kid who is still learing to read and write ABC and 123 Yet she is employing devices used by poets, even though she doesn't know there's a thing called poetry. She could distinguish between a metaphor and a simile, even though she doesn't know there is a name for them. This is not fiction I related the episodes just to establish a point I have no doubt in my mind that my daughter is born with native talent that can turn her out as a poet On the other hand, if this natural gift is not forged and put to use, there is no way she would turn out a poet. Even though the stuff that takes is there However, with me in her corner, she is sure to get all the molding that she needs. Especially since I have a bit of a poet in me too. So, to answer the question: is a poet born or molded? My answer is a resounding no question about it yes and yes. Yes a poet is born, and yes a poet is made To be a born poet and being a molded poet are two sides of a penny, really. Come to think of it, you have to be born with something in you, in the first instance, before you can be molded into whatever Surely, talent is inborn. A true poet has to be born with the innate ability to weave words into colorful tapestries Every fiber of their being has to be designed in the pattern of the poetic calling. So, if the talent is there, it has to be unearthed, dusted and polished up to a high gloss If ever there was one born poet this world has ever known, almost everyone would agree that its Shakespeare If Shakespeare were to reincarnate today and sit across from you, setting himself up so you could ferret out the secret of how he became an unparalleled weaver of words I hope you wouldn't be too surprised to find that the Bard spent years clandestinely mastering his craft And that by learning from the works and wisdom of other poets who had gone ahead of him, he molded himself into one of the most celebrated poets for generations to come I’m a firm believer that anyone can be a poet, that is, if they have a drop of the talent in their blood It comes in different measures, you know People who have a good dose of the stuff can be molded with less efforts than those who have only a trace of it But nothing in heaven or hell can make you a poet, if you don’t have a trace of the talent flowing through your veins.

I'm sure you may know people who view poetry with distaste, no matter how sweet and relishing it may be. That goes to show that we cannot all be poets Truth be told. Poets are not mere mortals. Poets pride themselves on their abilities to add colorful strands to the rich tapestry of life Adding light and color to a dark and dismal world at times. Through their abilities to create illusions with words, they can make you go sailing on a sea of imagination into other worlds beyond this existence Taking photoshoots with their words, they are able to capture any moment in history. With an intricately woven word play, they are capable of laying bare their experiences, evoking feelings and nourishing the souls of others. It takes skills to be able to accomplish this feat. Skills are not inherited but are acquired through years of learning the nitty gritty of the craft. Mind you, learning to mold and shape your gifts and talents is not necessarily something that has to take place inside the four walls of a classroom You don’t need a diploma or a fancy degree to become a made poet. You don’t have to be Ivy league educated to be able to tell a metaphor from a simile, for goodness sake With all the tools and technologies available on the Internet, you can be self taught. Beginning poets must realize at the outset that words are the tools of poetry. So, a poet has to kneed a companionship with words. You have to build a formidable vocabulary and keep enlarging your repertoire There is no poetic license that can deliver you from ineptitude. The onus therefore rests on you to develop your talent to the highest level possible If you don't want to come across as one of the untalented mediocrities. There you have it. You can be a born poet, but it takes a lifelong commitment to learning, combined with some formative experiences, to help mold and shape you into a well rounded poet. If within your heart of hearts, you know that poetry is the thing for you, then you have to be prepared to work yourself to the bone. You have to be the hardest on yourself. Your determination, therefore, has to be made of steel Practice, practice, practice It takes lots of practice to be able to find your personal style and carve a signature all your own.

As Ludwig van Beethoven said, “Then let us do what is right, strive with all our might toward the unattainable, develop as fully as we can the gifts God has given us, and never stop learning”

As a side note, I would like to say that Poetry Planet has been a learning school for me. If not for the Planet, I wouldn’t call myself a poet Anyway, that's a story for another day

LIEGE LORD LANRE

Some are born blessed with a gift of gab, writing with imagination, decorating with flowery language of words They are people with dormant creative talent, as their souls are full of sympathy, empathy, with a feeling full heart, wakes up with jerks, alert to all that occurs around them, various problems issues at local, national, global levels. Understand problems by communicating with concerned people to find solutions, raise voice for awareness, through writing, reporting for awareness in society Fight for justice for weaker sections, poor, needy, gender inequality, household violence, child abuse, if law misused, they have courage to stand fight for the voiceless, through their writings, speech for creating awareness. These poets, writers, bring people together from one voice to millions voices to fight disparity, Ill ,bad treatment to others in all sections of society, not trained in writing, but with latent dormant gifted inherited talent, gifted from God above of rhyming ,bounty of magical words, to raise voices against all injustice, social evils, vices in society. They are instrumental, help people to think, understand, the truth of right and wrongs, through their writings, for a change to a better society, promote togetherness, care, share, friendship, understanding in different sections of society, irrespective of caste, color, creed, nationality, religion, in simple language to reach, all in society

They are poets, writers, with dormant talent with ample opportunities, good guidance, good circumstances to study journalism, mold themselves as professional journalists, to reach heights, they are special talented, gifted, blessed by God above. Some unfortunately have latent dormant talent but lack opportunity's circumstances prevent them, are amateur, freelancers, with an inner urge to write to satisfy their souls, use their talent to fight evils, vices in society, raise voice on protection of God's all creation, natures bounties, writing in their spare time, They are workers in office, banks, are happy to create awareness of social issues through poems, articles. Dedicated to cause they fulfill their urge to create awareness in hearts of people, in our society Holding a, 9am to 6pm job involving travel, I'm a freelancer, carry in my handbag all my writing tools dairy, pen, paper, my friend muse my partner, to what my sensitive mind experiences and makes me to wonder wander, ponder, in the maze of our busy life makes my head buzzes, my monkey mind swings, jump on wings of imagination with words, pen swings, runs on paper during my journeys, Write about sufferings of people, disparities, house hold violence, alert young people going in wrong direction. Alert, shake them to notice, fight, wake them up, be strong to fight all evils ,wrongs in society. My pen is a sword, to write against injustice meted out to weak, meek, old frail, handicapped people their problems because I'm a fighter, a Poet, a Writer.

Overjoyed when I see my story articles, poems in print, get money. When gifted with rejection slips, I never falter continue writing nonstop. Computers, mobiles, help poets writers to mold themselves. With inborn latent talent , passion, feelingly heart full of empathy, sympathy, gift of words, language, grammar, flow of language with rhyme and rhythm like a river, is a must for born and molded poets, writers, to reach heights, as poets.

Poetry Planet has helped me on this journey, to grow as a poet, writer.

I think Poetry is an art that you are born with but you can enhance it through learning the different forms and styles. Eventually though the poet will ink what he or she can do naturally, the best poets I believe were authentic and honest about inking their thoughts. True poets write for themselves not for proving to anyone how great they are... Grammar has to be learnt through sheer practice. Whether you have the education or not, whether you are inherently gifted or simply passionate about writing poetry, one has to go build the language to express well. Legends were not born overnight.. They felt, they wrote relentlessly and eventual became famous.

I'll like to end it with a quote about legendary poets.

In my opinion, poetry is a gift. However, there is a progression as to the quality of gift received. Some gifts were genius, others were just average. Writing poetry is never a comparison of intellect but the intellect is considered when one writes. Writing poetry is not an intellectual game but, in activities like competition, one's gift differ from the other. Thus, one wins and the other loses.

FIONA GOBIN

"The legends who wrote To reinstigate many souls Are still amongst us Living in the tales we behold“ Tanushi Singh

Writing poetry is a gift. I started writing poetry at the age of 14. It is truly an art of words painted by an artist.

ZALDY CARREON DE LEON JR.

For me, writing poetry is a talent

I will describe poetry as a language of emotions. It is an expression of passion inside oneself. As i know, authors are not all poets but all poets can be an author

If a certain person can see the beauty of nature and use metaphors or any figure of speech to express himself, then no doubt ,he is a poet

A poet can measure the ocean where the sky can mirror itself into its depth. A poet can even fly high like an eagle soaring up to the sky He can be as brave as Spartans and as weak as Rumplelstilkin...He needs only his expression to express what is inside his heart..

An author, in other way, he can write anything depends on the topic that he wants to write for example a lawyer can write a book about cases...or a teacher can write about visual aids for the children so there s a specific theme an author can write..

Writing poetry includes neatness of the appearance, for example the correct usage of grammar Even if poetry has its own expression but it is necessary to make the words tidy and grammatically correct..

Since poetry is an art, therefore poets are called artistic, talented and skilled When they are in their extreme feelings, their desire of expressing is in high level ..A poet can write a very good scenario of sad events especially when they are emotionally battered. If the poets are happy, they can make a very joyous writings

Poetry has its own description, shape ,and style. Poets play an important role on how his poetry looks like

Writing poetry is a talent especially to someone whose heart and brain go hand in hand

There is a poetry within everyone and one can see poetry in everything, everywhere in nature.

So we all are born poets, but few could realize and only a few could exploit their talent to closely observe, deeply feel, aesthetically interpret and artfully narrate in suitable forms to please, influence and impress viewers. Study helps, but it is more of imagination and intuition.

Expression should be free, but adherence to the rules of grammar and composition is a better idea.

Creativity finds expression in many forms, poetry is just one and there are lots of other art-forms, activities -- positive and productive, that are poetic in one way or other.

One can get inspiration to write, but mostly it comes from within.

Those who have and realize their poetic talent, try their hands at giving shape to their ideas in words, rest enjoy them.

NAIDZ LADIA

GOPAL SINHA

DUSKA KONTIC

Born or become a poet, expressions or thoughts are present for both versions. They will concrete it with the poetic writings in my life

As a young age I loved and enjoyed poetry, I read indiscriminately any type of writing but focused on poetry, I remember at school age in eight years almost passed the school library , yes at this rate I continued my whole life , but priorities were formation studies , high school , university , postgraduate studies , master of science in finance which was my favorite branch street I always kept reading poetry, I felt the poetic spirit within me, but I never had the time and did not bother to write poetry, it was enough to express this spirit in the social group, some understood me and congratulated me, k there were times that someone even smiled In 2018 I got sick, fall into a coma for a month and wake up paralyzed, two years without getting out of bed, undergoing four surgical interventions.

I improved, today I'm on paraplegic status so I'm in a wheelchair, I've been reading and writing poetry almost everyday for two years, except days I'm unable.

Poetry is my sense, a way of survival in the presentation of thoughts that are sometimes the stream of consciousness, sometimes rational thinking about the life problems of man in general

I wrote a thousand verses. I thank God for giving me the gift to capture my emotion After the emanation of lyrics my soul was at peace with myself and with everyone who liked it or not because my individuality has spoken, visited some other worlds, encountered a different, better or worse, ungrinded or more refined conception of the word that thunders and speaks

As an upgrade to the talent, the countless read works that brought different literary genres through the eras, made a richer vocabulary, a way of expression and guidance to the streams of literary creation that used to be more complex, but with all its own personality ours

In all influences that somewhat affect the poetic soul, one always feels the specialty of a talented being. Creativity and sensibility strongly resonate with the somewhat true streams and directions of the literary epoch.

I posted the poems written every day on Facebook in different groups and unions of my country Albania, my poems began to be liked and commented by many readers, I distributed the poems in many different countries of the world, more used to love to get participating in competitions by unions and various groups i have been appreciated for my writings.

BESNIK LAMAJ

Poetry is an ancient art form, through which a person is able to describe every aspect of their imagination or their emotional state, to an audience, describing it through words that may rhyme or even if not, but catch the imagination of the reader or audience. Here in India, and ofcourse, all around the world, poems have been written in multitudes of languages Every language to be written needs some kind of grammar, to make the reader understand the actual meaning of the words written. Similarly in poetry, a poet needs to use proper grammar in his writings to make his readers understand the nuances of his poetry Grammar needs to be learnt, and also, a poet needs to have a good command over the language he uses for his writings. Being a poet, as I understand, can be a natural talent, but if you wish to put your poems across to your readers, you do need some kind of basic education about language and it's grammar. That's one part of the question answered.. The actual question is, Is writing poetry a talent? Or is it molded answer to this is that poetry comes to a poet naturally, but it is a talent that needs to be honed and perfected through proper guidance and learning. Especially rhymes, it is not easy to rhyme as I have understood, but who have this talent in them, can find the right words effortlessly. But to form it in a proper and meaningful manner to call it a poem, needs skill, that's nurtured with time and proper guidance poet needs to be a good storyteller to write what he/she feels, to put into words what they imagine, and also spice it up to make it interesting for their readers and audience, and I feel that storytelling is not something that can be learnt, but it's an inbuilt natural talent that a person possesses.. Not everyone can be a good storyteller. I write poems, and unlike many of my esteemed poet friends who I know have been writing since they were eight, or ten, or fourteen, I started writing at the age of 46. I've had no background of learning literature, I was a commerce student at college, and never ever up to all those years think of writing a poem, but yes I used to love reading poems at school, those poems used to take me to my own imaginary world, which only the poet and I would share, and yes, I was good at my English in school, which I think is one of the main reasons that I am able to put my natural ability to rhyme so easily into such artistic use and create poetry I can say surely now that I am a poet, as my poems have been accepted and appreciated by many and also l have found it to be my passion now

But, I wasn't this good a poet at first, I have started understanding poetry by learning more about it, which has helped me write better So in conclusion I'll say, that, you can learn how to write poems, you can learn through literature how to pen the most wonderful lines. You may write using elaborate and exquisite words, but!.. You can't just learn to be a poet, unless you are born one

RONEL DAVID

First of all, my sincerest gratitude to all the contributors, supporters, and followers of Poetry Planet International Magazine. We will not be celebrating our second Christmas together if not because of your unwavering patronages.

December 2022 edition discusses the need to reach home on Christmas day as it is the only time parted families bond. The longingness and the willingness to come home are expressed in this imprint.

Also, the issue arises whether being a poet a gifted talent, or an enhance knowledge become the topic of writers from around the world. Reading their pieces of opinions will give you enough understanding of the given issue.

Poetry Planet International Magazine guarantees to give you educational information that will help you gain timely ideas on monthly basis and we will continue to give you significant datas to enrich your wisdom on the coming months and years to come.

May your holiday be sanctified and merry!

HaveablessedChristmasWorld!

Marites Ritumalta CEO/ Founder Chief Editor