So many people writing poetry
So many people full of ****.
The readers, who feel and yearn for those feelings on the page,
And skim and search for them day after day
Know nothing of what beauty is.
Poetry is ******* for the heart.
Poets, the stars, are just doing their part.
Images of men at desks, using tears as ink
“This woman makes me feel what I can’t think!
Her beauty, her smile, it’s too much to bear!
Like flowers and rivers and fields of pink
My heart just swells and explodes in her presence!”
A man sits at a table
Thinking of what people think
Imagining what people want to hear
Words on a page, not feeling at all.
Poets are the politicians of the writing community.