Poor Poet Fools Poem by Sandra Feldman

We live happily in the world of rhymes,
Observing, feeling, dreaming,
Thinking that out words can make a difference,
Dress the undressed minds,
With sentiments and poetic flurries,
Images that in time,
Will make life more livable,
Us, less worried,
What fools we really are!
The bloody scurried crimes,
That haunt our past and present,
Are still carried out with violent fury,
'Man's inhumanity to man',
Our poems cannot bury.