Poems;
Ideas and thoughts mustered from the ether
of imagination and made Flesh.
Like fresh troops they fall-in on that paper parade ground,
which is itself only thought, shuffling about until they form a perfect line.
Wheeling and merging, columns of prose appear
before finally coming to a halt for inspection.
But, even then, like all Flesh they are Mortal,
some existing only for brief seconds before they perish
on that minefield which is Reason.
Or after deliberation, tried and shot for treason,
traitors to the power of the written word.
Many fare better, surviving this battle
in semi-permanent text to
perhaps be read and enjoyed by others.
A few, you may say, The Lucky Few, achieve Immortality,
Written in Stone on the Mind of Mankind
Keats, Byron, Burns, et al.
Will some of mine ever strengthen their ranks
Will they ever receive That Call to Arms?
I doubt very much that they have the Mettle,
to ever join in such a Battle…
Colin J… 22nd July 2010
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Very original poem Colin and a clever way you put the two together from the ether of your mind..it stands by its self++++10 regards
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fashions change and tastes alter, The modern trend of free form I doubt will not last for any length of time.But classical metered and rhymed poetry has stood the test of time. Long after the authors died in some cases their skill only came to light after they died. I hold the hope as I am sure you do too That at least one of mine will still be read in a hundred years. You have no choice but to keep om writing ivor