He is a man always left on his solitude
with his might set, like a sharp sword.
His hands always exhausting pens,
with papers filled to the brim.
His heart gush and groan wide
with his head affirming, from side to side.
His words forces of wide thought
scheming words of all sought.
His dreams scanned in booklet,
this man rain all in droplet.
He exposes the secret of nature
and give details of all creature.
He mimics the ways of the philosophers
but not of vivid terms, it differs.
He write of many immortal shadow
setting transparency of emmence sorrow.
His mind fight with his desire,
his heart embellishing what he has acquire.
When he turned activist of the state
his works, even the little hate.
His words read the heart of many
causing his plight to be plenty.
He was killed because of his poem.
He is a poet who died by his poem.
Very Interesting write..well thought out and composed. best wishes Jon
This was a good but not a great write but there is little here to find fault with. The topic is great for all poets to read and it was presented well. I gave it a 9, the best score possible. This writer has a great vocabulary and an alert and agile mind. I hope he comes to America. He will succeed here. GW62
Good good good! Some of my work on this you scan through them.
I feel like that when I write sometimes especially when it get frustrating and I can't get the thoughts put together.At my age I get alot of brain farts.
really good write.... youre really talented..i mean you've got tghis flow.... nice poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
it is an honorable death....and solitude, my most sought after companion....best wises...Vallerie