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Oct 2016
I am the Poet Refugee
Now living in a world of Prose
Accepted yes to some degree
But never quite sure of my role.

Should I be the way I was made
Speaking in metaphor and rhyme
Or must I give in to the page
Ruled by its adherence to lines?

May I speak out in an attempt
To urge us to be reconciled?
We Poets offer no dissent
To justify being so defiled

Always to be read with a sneer
Not given the due we are owed
That whenever a Poet is near
Truth will be camouflaged with code.

Ever to be judged out of turn
An object of pity and fun
Looked down at with frequent concern
Poems may be suicide bombs.

You want Poets locked up in books
Kept in churches not out of doors
But that is where logic gets stuck
In the fight of rhythm and words.

We're the same Poets and Writers
We both say what needs to be said
Both to ourselves and to others
Without us meaning would be dead

Without us there would be no songs
Graffiti to make Peace not War
And it really wouldn't take long
To wonder what Language was for.
I wanted to write about refugees and immigrants, although I am not one. I wanted to write about being a poet who isn't mainstream or modern, on the outside? Why is poetry still a novelty in this world?
Tommy Randell
Written by
Tommy Randell  67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK
(67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK)   
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