The Magic Of The Poem Poem by Peter S. Quinn

There are dreams in a mind,
Never conquered all through;
Their powers not refined,
Nor understood, but so true.
Every word that delivers,
Like the eyes that are you.
Every sea that has rivers,
Shall be always that blue.

You may think you've power,
Before understanding a heart;
That is graded by the hour,
And fresh in each new start.
Simplicity is of greatness
And a gift to those who try,
A simple word is no less,
Than the deepness of the sky.

Words of glamour and trends,
Have short moments in space;
But the words of the poets,
Is the purity of the phrase.
Give a thought to your sentence,
Not a pomp to your thought;
So generations may glance
At, what your poem has brought.