Drink in the magic from a poetry spring
Quench your thirst with words that sing
Caressed by the poet to sound like sighs
It's a gift for all, not only the wise.
Words and phrases and forgotten things
Focus the mind like the bee that stings
Laughing and crying at the same time
Words at random that don't always rhyme.
Poetry impregnated with words and song
Distinguishing between right and wrong
A poets words are not always confined
Usually the first that come to mind.
The ink of the poet flows like the tide
A conscience clear with nothing to hide
At times words will fall to the ground
They are not lost, they will be found.
Poetry can whisper, or shout out loud
Conjure a rainbow from behind a cloud
It can bring pleasure sometimes offence
It is not always meant to make sense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Liked what I read, You have dear poet a unique way to look at poetry. 'And it is not always meant to make sense', I note.