I Write Poetry Poem by mark anthony st. rose

I write poetry,
I write poetry because silence is what my soul speaks,
And this silence is deafening like the cries of pains
Emanating from a fallen world and rains
That my eyes sometimes reflect,
And my body deflect, and my soul inflect,
And the words inject my mind
And I write..
I write poetry.

I write as if to speak for this silence,
As it beckons me to utter its words,
So that its profundity would be heard,
So as to escape the din as the world spin.
A noise necessary though temporary
As tranquil plans foil soil men's hands plough
Found forbidden taste, tree, a fruit that they insatiably eat;
Slowly succumbing to its sweetness
Poisoned like a sleeping princess
Oblivious to their demise
And God's caring cries,
And sky's blue dies,
And Silence tries, tries
To speak but for some reason goes unheard
And again it injects me with the words and I write:

I write poetry,
As if to convince men of its beauty,
Aesthetic quality of formless figures painted on a page,
As if to revive a poetic age, quell the rage,
And show the fathomlessness of the unspoken word…….. written,
So that the same word that was said to be in the beginning
Shall now and forever be in me and you.
You see I write poetry!
Summoned by the silence
Pulled by destiny's immense forces,
That crosses boundless
Boundaries of soul and into the world of words
I write.
Encaptured by light like the Sun in its majestic flight.
I; I shall now be this light.
Lord let me be this light,
And let me this night continue to write.




copyright by MArk St. Rose. All rights reserved.