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Write a little poem, perhaps make it rhyme,
Count and mark all the beats in time.
Create stories of issues unexpressed,
Fears and sadnesses and feelings repressed.
Give it a title, a ‘by-line’ makes it your own.
Type it and sort it and send it along
To carry your heart into the night,
Free up your soul, and make everything right.
Such are the writers who ache and feel alone,
And need little recognition for what they have done.
The voices that can’t seem to speak in the day, are the
Poets, in their poems, who know exactly what to say.
Carolyn Brunelle
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