Wednesday, June 24, 2009

POETS

Speaking rhythmically, musically
Of common things.
Things we'd never have thought to say
In such a peculiar way.

You speak most eloquently when alone.
'Tis alone that your thoughts come bubbling forth
And if paper and quill are near
You record the thoughts you choose to hold dear.

You'll weep over a flower's birth
Point out the passings of this Earth.
We often laugh at your naive expression
Of some complicated first impression.

You define and describe things we'd overlook.
But in short form, an article, never a book.
Yet books we often form from your random thought,
And upon purchasing wonder what we've bought.

Words! Words! More words you give
Trying to describe the moments we live.
The words you write persist because they touch us so.
We read the words you write and our minds caress their silky flow.

Poet!

Continue your vain attempt to express Life.
And, then, hold yourself above contempt.
Write your words!
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