The headlines screamed the emotions that can't be concealed
The readers who subscribe to you by choice or proximity
Get the full picture, read all about it sensitivity newsprint
When one flew into a rage or burst into tears
Each section of the newspaper opened by itself
Scanning the information that runs like ink into words and photos of candid reaction
When I was a newspaper
The front page was a true predictor of what was inside and what was advertised
Nothing left to the imagination in hot, breathing lines of crimson
Dark mood human interest stupidity
When I was a newspaper
Each attempt to tell what was going on ended up stacked outside in short order for recycling
Faded images of warlords and women
People I have never met despite us knowing each other for a long time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem containing such a nice line for recycling faded images of warlords and women...People I have never met despite us knowing each other for a long time.... Enjoyed reading such a powerful creation. 10+++++