My poems document these turbulent times.
My poems are lamentations to the death
Of the Spirit in the West. Yet they seek
To revive a sense of the vintage blood;
That pulses wildly through the veins of trees,
Flowers and leaves. Sometimes they burn brightly
With the fires of ancient prophecy.
Other times, they hint at peace and silence.
My poems are small epiphanies amidst
Great, raging institutions. They cannot
Be quelled by the rampant powers that be.
For true poetry, it seems, sets us free.
Thanks for your comments guys...much appreciated! Also thanks for posting it on your blog Michael.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well penned poem with images that fit. ps: I posted this on my blog today.