A poem is admission
Of confusion
And being what it is
Excites derision;
Yet those who mock
Will see their words forgotten
While poems alter worlds
And swallow oceans
A poem may be hard
Or it may soften
Such blows as while alive
We meet too often
A poem is a voyage
Of discovery
On which we risk all chance
Of full recovery;
A poem is no display
Of erudition
No learned text that stinks
Of dead tradition
A poem is a brave
And human gesture
Dressed in mage's clothes
But still a jester;
Dispensing with the proverb
And the précis
Prefers its porridge plain
And nothing fancy
On days so blue
They might as well be grey
A poem's what we try
When we can't pray.
Oh yes, I really do like this one. Says so much, and rings so true. Outstanding!
Enjoyed reading this so well expressed. A line of a poem may express what a book may take volumes to explore Nice write BB : O))
You have magnificently defined poem from different dimensions, and drawn the conclusion so brilliantly: 'A poem's what we try When we can't pray.' Bravo! Well done!
defined in simple words that touch the core.............................
Found this one intriguing. I too have one similar. Read mine – A Poem is a Lovely Room - Adeline
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is very moving Brian. I do like your lines, ... poems alter worlds And swallow oceans. This country speak is of hallowed ground indeed. Sterling write!