#onpoetry
It's Poetry Month,
If poets wail in the woods,
Do they make a sound?
If what we write goes unread,
Why on earth do we persist?
It is madness, I insist,
No one can cure 'till we're dead.
Will we be silent, or discouraged? No!
Let our voices resonate with our truth,
Be it sweet as a ripe pomegranate,
Or sour as cheap wine left too long uncorked.
We sing as best we can in harmony,
Or screech like rusty nails caressing slate,
E pluribus unum - one family,
Embracing every country, every state.
Our voiced won't be silenced, nor our song,
For we were born to sing right notes and wrong.
Apr 4, 2022
Apr 4, 2022 at 11:44 PM UTC
Betwixt words,
Weaving paths of study,
Between lines,
Flowing within its own
Rythms, rhymes,
A birthplace is divined,
A twig of poetree to be,
Becomes in chrysalis,
Being you, evoking.
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
If talk is cheap
then Poems are pennies
Long lost
Traveling in pockets
Or Saved for rainy days
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC