Poets wait the words that may not ever come
For tears of heart they plant a seed
A flow of rhyme in silence, say;
For those who cannot speak
A poet whispers in an ear; Sweet melody, divine
Like voice of angels saying prayer
Of feeling in a rhyme
Afar they drift where none dare travel
Sometimes passing an unmarked grave
They walk in darkness, alongside angry shadows
Among the fallen and the brave
Rest well dear poet, enchanted writer
Thy words at moments must often wait
Enfeebled love, chaos, disorder;
Have outlined throughout thy face
If not for thee who write surreal
Who would feel so deep inside
An expression penned upon the paper
Form out of poets minds
(10/26/2018)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem