Modern poetry
What do you witness in modern poetry?
Does it represent sentiments of any country?
Do fond actual spirit missing and has evaporated?
It seems mind is bogged down and perforated,
No reflection of nature, snow clad mountains in poems?
Not concrete views on subjects and lack proper themes,
Short size of lines and left to readers for views
Read out as Para or commentary in news
No curse or regret in words for any message
Be silent spectator and clear smooth way for passage
Our poetic soul has died long back,
We write artificially as if standing on jack,
We have completely lost faith in system around,
We are back to the square one nothing new is found
limitation in expression of ideas and are not found suitable or sound
People do not appreciate as it has lost the ground,
Has the level of writing gone up or we leg behind?
Does the nature has lost its charm and nothing new find
Forests are depleted and wild animals has lost cover
what is left in nature is simply to imagine over?
Ozone layer is depleting and glaciers are sliding
Air is completely polluted and we are minding
Rivers are added with affluent discharge,
there is health hazard and risk is looming large
What to write in modern poems?
Where is inspiration with good theme?
Who has the time to spare for nature?
We are concerned with only future
How come old themes are rich with heritage?
Why do they not fall under class vintage/
They still inspire us in our daily routine
Lot many ways to be explored and put in
How our ancestors could write great epics?
There were tragic events including comics
Every part so interwoven with delicate presentation
Still we prefer it to be put in our quotation
Love epics are down with limited object
Suicides and downing in river is the only subject
News papers are full of robbery and murders
Little we offer as solace and only murmur
Death as horrified subject is only to be covered
Its impact is only to be lowered
What else we can offer in present day of living?
We must go deep for analytical study with forced diving
What message we carry for the masses?
No one has to worry and make passes
we are the real voice for any uprising
Only passion should be aroused for rising
Still we have so much to offer
Subject same but opinions differ,
Message should be simple but has to be widely read
Mass appeal for love and peace but not hatred
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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400th Mark
Completion of 400th poem was not great feat or mark
Many new ideas flashed in mind and worked as spark
Raising voice at roof top doesn’t make it worth while
No one will share ideas or walk with you for a mile
Over year and half ago I was virtually nothing
Only vague ideas of verses to translate as something
There was hidden fear that readers may reject
Still presentation of new ideas was only object
Nature was appealing when I went round
Something new was in offing and always found
Bird’s sweet voice and cool breeze were appealing
Mind was set up on it with earnest effort for revealing
It was so difficult to go in for poetic words
Sought the strength and blessings from the lord
World at large seemed so big and enterprising
Nothing could stop me from little writing
“Go to hell” or “never dare to call again”
Funny comments with abusive words main
I detested the weapon with its sharp edge
My be I lacked enough skill or knowledge
Many offered me with their kind comments
Advised to stand fast and not to lament
How can I be ungrateful to their advices?
I had to offer gratitude and only promises
Some one commented I was killing poems
Had no teeth, wisdom and lacked rhythms
I sincerely thanked them to improve upon
To write simple poems and simply carry on
New people, thoughts with old or new readers
They were by no means less than leaders
I was novice and had to act as learners
To gain and part with is the reality for beginners
I have followed simple theme and plot
It may not be up to mark or falling short
I may try to uphold values and ideas defend
Will not stoop so below to alienate or offend
How poetry does impresses up on mind?
What type of lessons or new things we find?
Poetry, I thought is the holiest approach among all
I enjoy its fruit when sit back and recall
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Browsing and Commenting on Poems.
It is my habit to read the poems
delivered by the young and old, male and female.
I pick up the poems by title and not by the authors.
Internet helps us to browse and comment on poems,
burst into by the poets from all the continents.
I read, chew and digest the new words, usage,
and the content in the poems. The young guys,
baffle me with colloquial, archaic and email forms
like gonna, wanna, u, and so on.
The youths write poems on love with inspiration
but old people have to perspire or be resilient
going back to school and college days.
If I murmur the tune of some melodious film song,
I find it possible to scribble on love-lorn life.
I am very weak in English manners of saying thanks
and expecting thanks for the comments made on poems.
The voracious readers of poems won't stop criticising
if we contribute touching poems or message giving lines.
The comments at times inspire me with new ideas and subjects.
If our lines comfort some hurt hearts,
guide some to ride the life with peace and hope,
that is enough for the mad people like us.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Survival
Sea level is dangerously rising
Nature is furious and uprising
With so much furor and anger
Earth planet is very much in danger
Are we playing with our fate?
Is awakening coming very late?
What we are trying to prove and discuss?
Why so much hesitation and fuss?
Whole mankind may disappear
Desert look on land may appear
Sea may swallow tiny islands
Tragedy not by nature but human hands
Lust, greed, murders form act of the day
We are amidst crisis and lost the way
Sea treasure is depleting very fast
No creatures may survive to last
Glaciers are melting at an alarming level
Dooms day is not far and about to spell
Draughts and floods are doing very well
Earth quake is routine and creating hell
Survival is limited object only for today
No matter who suffered for the very day?
Voice is muted and has limited say
Sink or perish altogether on destined day
Desert is witnessing heaviest snow fall
Rivers in spate and mountains call
Forests burn with all-round flame
What on earth we are doing for them?
Sky is invading with deadly emission
Gases are leaked but no admission
Talks go on for appointing commission
Anarchy prevails with lots of confusion
No one may heed to simple advice
Digging graves for burial or demise
Generations may be lost in mad race
Nothing may be left to hide the face
It is crucial that we must survive
Popular movement for efforts to revive
Let good counsel enter in their mind
world awaits clean and new order to find
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Deceased Poets Of Nature
Such beautiful poems to Nature they did write
The poetry we love for to read and recite
May they rest in peace now where-ever they lay
The deceased poets of Nature their poems live today
They glorified Nature and her praises they sung
And though they may be long dead their poems remain young
the poets of the land and the poets of the sea
In their beautiful poetry their greatness we do see
Their poems and their songs I loved as a boy
And their poems and their songs I will always enjoy
The beauty of Nature they did celebrate
And beauty in their words they loved to create.
Great insights of Nature from them we did gain
The beauty of their words with us does remain
We loved them for their poems in decades long gone
The deceased poets of Nature their poems living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Writing Frustrations I've Known
-It would seem, I've run out of words.
Nothing left to say.
I have lost my inner voice.
It's gone, completely astray.
Perhaps I should lay down pen and pad.
Never more write a rhyme.
On this poetry that I love
I shall spend no further time.
... not that I was ever truly a poet anyway
... it's just that, well, I did love it so;
... still, it feels the well is dry
... time to just let it go.
- So now, what of me shall be
Feeling empty in heart and head?
What purpose-without a word-shall be heard
With no way to express both hope and dread?
Where have the words gone
Must they ever stay away?
Who has taken my spirit's song
Why has the music of my soul nothing more to say?
... I try... seems of no use...
My mind torn asunder, literary abuse.
(this next part wrote a couple months later)
Listen, what do I hear?
Something is knocking at my gate!
A few months later now
But, not altogether too late.
A lonesome thought comes strolling in
From whence I cannot declare,
Just that it has arrived
With this simple message to share:
' What's a dime
To a lover of verse and rhyme,
And what's to fear
Of criticism drawing near?
For to write only for income
Would soon turn quite burdensome,
As surely as to not write for fear of ridicule
Would be to deny the voice within you.
The words may never turn a single head
But, don't dare believe they'll ever be dead!
God gives meaning to what he wants
Whether anyone else listens or not.
The way it is all spoke
By darling bards, or simple country folk,
Is well worth hearing
And so oft more than a bit endearing.
Don't worry about the rhyme
The perfect place or time,
Just give your soul in words as best you can
And those who should, will understand.
Those who don't
Just won't,
And that's o.k.
God speaks to them in other ways.
Trust his Spirit in all you do
Yes, this includes writing too,
Remember he promised he'd never leave you alone
Even in the simple words of your poems. '
-Pondering it over
I suppose this I've known all along,
Though thoughts may wander
True words are never gone.
Well, ya know what:
I believe I just might pick up paper and pen,
Good or bad, right or wrong...
Give it a go, once again!
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am cheater
I have friend who believes I am cheater
I catch hold of nerves and conveniently alter
The whole theme and suitable present in another form
It is presented to world as if new poet is born
I had no ready made arguments to offer
As from the beginning he had differed
He was holding different opinion with firm belief
I too was adamant and did not surrender to give him relief
He wanted to present the human problems in its original context
It was not to be mixed with any oratory to give it as presentable text
He had been in this field not for long but held firm views
I used to be at logger heads with him and asked for opinion review
He is or many may not fall in line with my presentation
I have avoided all the time the matter full of artificiality with sensation
I did not believe in presenting the views in trimmed way
The readers wanted an answer and in such absence preferred to go away
I have simplistic view about nature and its functioning
What else can I offer when they are in full boom and blossoming?
Some color has to be added to look as if the words too are natural
Some fragrance is in air and everything seems to be formal
Human sentiments can not be played at somebody’s disadvantage
How can we put it differently and later on try to salvage?
The poem is such powerful medium that one can reach out heart
It may not be any artificial things behind but possibly a good art
The human sufferings have different pattern and can be compared
The flowers too come on with different colors and adored
One is in boom for short interval and likely to be faded
The sufferings may be for longer period and can not be traded
Nothing remains here permanently and has to vanish
Whether it is time bound, to be completed or finished
They cycle may be repeated differently at every level
One must be careful and seize it with all means to excel
I have chosen the simple symbols to present human misery
The sword or automatic gun can not be shown in the hands of adversary
That may give the impression of violence and may reflect unnecessary
I may show the frowning face with cruel lines to vary
Such may be symbolic presentation of poems
Exact presentation may not be possible to present them
Still it will be better to present them in simple way
I shall control the flow in the ordinary manner with full say
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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An Art Is Dead
Colors and ideas just rush in
As has been observed and seen
It is one of the tricky jobs
Inspiration is nature from where he has to rob
If not then any object
People can't reject
As his brush and color
May soon find great honor
Painter can brush the lines
They may appear as happy lines
Someone may read it as an art
Others may find it sales object in mart
His heart bleeds in brush
It finds great rush
Through his eyes and on canvass
The shape appears at last
Who may sing in praise?
Who may love it and chase?
No one except bidders
Or genuine art readers
That is his worth
Real asset and wealth
He has contentment
With lots of praise and comments
It may adore anybody's wall
Receive attention and call
Painter may be lost
As it has been sold at cost
It is an art piece
With lovely message of peace
That is worth to understand and read
Before anyone says 'an art is dead'
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Rare Flower Blooms Only Once In a Blue Moon!
Just as Nature is an inspiration to spirit
Poetry is an inspiration to the heart ever!
Musical poems full of meaning delight all
Like the freshly blossomed flowers do to all!
Poems delight heart, inspire mind and
Elevate spirit to higher level ever in bliss!
Poems mean inspiration and delight to heart
That remain in mind ever to inspire soul ever!
Nature and poetry are reality and reflection
As Shakespeare did with his art of poems
Reflecting human life in all its totality ever
As rare flowers alive for all to enjoy ever!
Poems of such kind are flowers of rare variety
Such flowers bloom only once in a blue moon!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Poems with difference
How does the imagination strike the mind?
Does the brain allow them place to find?
Why they are termed as crazy and dreamy persons?
Does this statement find any favour with reasons?
May be poetic appetite does not allow them to grasp?
Appeal in wordings may not be enough to last
It is as if some is asked to under go test and take medicine
Feeling good inwardly but with bitter test of quinine
We may see enough water available in pot
Put to test while making it very hot
It may turn into vapor beyond certain point
Poetry is also like vapour………………..
Ideas may suddenly emerge in sequence
Mind may pick up and build it as consequence
How to project it rightly may prove as acid test
It may be looked as fine blend of poetry and best
Somebody may try it hard on words skill
Many may stuff it with metaphors and fill
Single sentence may now bear different look
Golden sentences may appear in costly book
Nature, heavenly bodies and earth simply provide
Kind of message, love and passion does not divide
Humanity survives with strengthening of the bonds
Poetic wisdom is stored like enough water in ponds
Easy words, fine presentation and theme crate impact
Love, passion, generosity improve with certain contacts
Poems can rule the hearts with immediate healing touch
Pulse can be felt as if it has enough power to offer so much
Poems can be those who can touch millions and rule
Lessen their worries and react with mind so cool
Poet Kalidasa* was novice and considered as fool
His poems are master pieces without help from any school
Rule the heart, touch the nerve and excel in field
Tremendous response and enough skill to yield
The desirable effect may be seen in poetic world
There may not be going back after developing cold
Poems must find the light of the day
Many may side line you and keep at the bay
You got to sail through and find the way
Stars and sky will be yours with more to say
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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How poems emerge
When passion gets settled down
Gives birth of poem and of its own
It is expression from the heart
You can term it real feeing and art
What are we discussing today?
About poor test and forceful way
What poets are writing today and chase?
Few short lines for readers to guess
First of all it has nothing to do with poems
Nothing comes in head as pure and nice themes
And even if it comes then it is very vague
All threads are to be tied and traced
It will be unnatural to think of breeze in afternoon
No ideas may creep in mind and supplement soon
When I start thinking of hot after noon
Then there may appear cool evening with bright moon
I shall observe each cool nights with changing horizon
Movement of stars and diminishing their shine for moon
I may think of giving more weightage to shining object
Thus reducing the importance of stars of their brave act
Well, poems are all about this struggle
They simply not come without trouble
They will openly clash with set themes
All earlier ideas may be lost or put into flames
I may not give up that easily for simple reason
It is natural law and so change the seasons
Why should I not change the theme from time to time?
It may click and help for the race sometimes
I have made several pages of rough preparation
They have fairly come to the help in relation
I thought poetry is not all about writing on pages
It is out come of natural thoughts coming with age
Thoughts must travel with speed of light
It must bring back all ideas in sight
Then it must flow in orderly manner at one go
In same manner as calm waters of river naturally flow
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A poems are treasure
Neither poems are lost treasure
nor they are means of pleasure
they are meant to be enjoyed by others
We need not go into it and bother
they are never lost from mind
They appear in many forms and we do find
there is place and existence
it has no past but real presence
Why do the thoughts emerge?
Why do they compel and urge?
Some happy moments to bear the shape?
Though with some bitter moments of shame?
It has equal bearing and importance
They invade sudden and at once
We got to give them place and honor
They may represent reality with horror
It may not be appreciated or liked by all
It may not be able to bring down the wall
But it will definitely pierce through the mind
Where it will generate the feelings very kind
It is simple projection coming out from clear conscience
It is reflective mood of the presence
It might have witnessed many pulses of high magnitude
It may speak nicely of the individual's attitude
Can any one take notes on piece of paper and write?
Can that draw any attention when you call some one or invite?
It may be commented as good or nice
But no one may commit or assure with promise
Many may be writing with great skill and deep feeling
It may not be finding favor or end with reeling
It is not the simple tact of conveying the message
It is not usual to come with the passing of the age
The poems are reflection of the natural mood
It acts like nourishment and serves as food
It is phenomenal development of the mind
It is generally accepted for its rich kind
It is nice medium to feel and convey
It responds to pure feelings and obey
It is not just putting of the simple views
This fact is realized by only few
The poems must find and be read in real context
It must have unique thinking with powerful text
It has writer's mind with powerful couplet
It should not meet cruel fate
The poems are read with zeal
It is not fictitious but real
It may serve as tonic or meal
It can assuage your feelings or heal
It is reflective mood of the poet
He can compose all but can't keep quiet
The poems may serve as eternal ground
We may like it more with intense bond
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Dark writing....
Dark shadows sneak under the door
As I keep writing these dark lyrics more
Of a nature that's not evil or unkind
Rather of disturbing thoughts in my mind.
They say for everything bad it's found
Something good it has to come around
The weather wouldn't be pleasant if wasn't for the rain
These feelings wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the pain.
I'm doing a storm in a cup of water to prepare
Meanwhile around people don't even care
I pray for my life to not end before these stanzas
But mindlessly I write and write looking for the answers.
My cold dark poems are everywhere
Floating around in the midnight air
Listen, closely you have no choice
These dark words, my deep voice.
Where the world is falling apart,
There lies a dark poem of the heart
Dark poems tell the darkest lines
They make you hear their shrieking cries.
Hold dearly onto your ravaged soul;
Don't find you've let life take its toll
Youll find my dark poems are everywhere
Read them, like them, if you dare….
I am the shadow hiding in the dark
The evil sounds that wake you in the night
I'm a shadow lurking in the dark
Because still it always feels so right
So I write my shadowy poems line by line
But I'm constantly over looked
My brain is fried down to the spine
And my broken heart is cooked
I'm left only with part of a heart
That will never again beat
I'm the one person
No one has to meet
I am a shadow lurking in the dark
Writing my poems so deep
Whispering my words so stark
Pray your soul to keep…
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Only To Act
I desired and posted
My poems and boosted
Alas! There were no readers
To corner, hoot or act as advisor
I used to feel sad
Felt hurt and very bad
But they acted like 'touch me not' plant
I failed to extract as per wish and want
I wish them to read more
Offer reaction if they can adore
Write something for at least new comers
They are shining starts and our future
It may open the gate
And as an opportunity to relate
What new things can they have in mind?
It will be nice gift from them to find
I have found little craze
As an animals go on green ground to graze
Not knowing well where to touch
So uncertainty exists for them as such
It is nice to weave thoughts in chain
Put across table in simple form and plain
It may give little glimpse of what do they think
Whether our thoughts deserve to go up or sink
Now stars and moon show little impact
The moon light doesn't appeal in fact
As rave parties and dance floors have taken over
The original charm has lost its fine shield or cover
I wish them to blossom like rose
That may certainly come up and pose
Spread the fragrance and freshen the air
What else we need from them? ............. only to act fare
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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People and peace
Most of the times I write about world peace
As this is the only subject to be written at ease
If there is peace and stability all over
Why at we will worry and need any cover?
People have seen rising of great empires
Coming down to ground without any fires
They could mange no change or and walked with space
That was the only reason for the fall of royal races
We witnessed emergence of powerful dictators
They were cause of resentment and cruel perpetrators
What did they do for their beloved subject?
Did they implement any welfare measures or acts?
I try to pen down complete scene
Nothing strikes mind with loss or win
Two world wars brought humanity at shame
Where all we can go and share the blame?
Nature has proved unkind to us as human have done
Where all natural shield or covers have gone?
Why we witness natural calamities every third day?
Why almighty and creator of universe is not showing way?
Let us take of there " P" in general
Peace, people and prosperity not as casual
Peace and prosperity is eluding us completely
Not wars alone but nature is causing havoc relatively
Let people feel from their heart
That almighty is one and needs good start
We have forgotten love and compassion
We have turned materialistic and have an obsession
We all must light the candle for world peace
Let no one die of starvation or phase
It is now in our hand to take united stand
Let world become not one but at least keep positive trend
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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(V – 2010) The Poet’s Nature
Reflecting Nature’s various hues
Poets write colourfully.
Echoing Nature’s innate songs
Poets write musically.
Learning from Nature’s righteous laws
Poets write more sensibly.
Drawing from Nature’s spotless love
Poets write more humanely.
Living with Nature’s poetic life
Poets write living poetry.
Alphabet Lost And Found
On this fateful day, in the history of whenever,
An epidemic of missing letters has swept the land.
Whatever the cause, for the sake of future generations,
In the limited time we have been permitted, these stories must be told.
There was an apple that lost his 'a'
There was a zebra that lost his 'z'
There was a chauffeur that left his 'auffer' on the dashboard
Of the car that lost its 'r'
Well, the car had lost its 'r' in a pothole
On a street that lost its 'e'
When the garbage collector with a missing 'ector' swept it up
With a broom that lost its 'oom'
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together-
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
There was a school that lost its 'cool'
when they tired to ring the bell that had no 'l'
With all the letters gone, the spelling bee was canceled
Science teachers had their hands full
English classes could not be complete
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Crowds of people, animals, and incomplete words have been seen at a previously unknown place to be referred to as-
The alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found) (how could they survive without their letters)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am My Poem
When you see me,
you see my poems.
For when i breath, i breath out ballads.
But vers libre express my heart.
Should i write in complicated
and rhythmic words to make
my poems deep and beautiful?
My life is complicated already.
Should i write in simple and
enticing words to make
my poems attractive?
My life is not that simple.
Like stream to the river
down to the sea,
so is my poems from my
soul to my spirit down to my body.
You may disapprove me
but come and take a walk
within my soul and see if
you can live there for a moment.
So when i write, must i
invite you to read.
Read if you want to.
I write because the chamber
of soul finds relieve.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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Kindness we offer
What in return of kindness we offer?
Will it be blessings or simple murmur?
Words may not simply fall or flow?
If it is with affection face will always glow
May it be in form of kiss?
Special offer and gesture from miss
I shall welcome it without any hiss
Who knows it may be real bliss
I shall prefer to live alone
Even if no help from some one
I must accept it with full joy
Even if that is offered with face decoy
Why so much noise is created?
Is there not real love recreated?
Do we sing when some one dear is cremated?
Do we not shed tears even if lamented?
How do we define it in terms and exactly?
Message is conveyed properly and correctly
May it not look so neat and clean?
As heart and mind act together and lean
Why simple kiss creates hornet’s nest?
Is it not the ideal to offer as best?
Why at all it should give nuisance test?
No gossips, no rumors and put them at rest
What difference it makes if offered on forehead
Love and true affection as if spread
All sentiments can simply be read
Fragrance smells all over and spread
Lovers may take as warm welcome
Daughter may feel simply good and awesome
Wife to husband as emerging gesture
Happy moments with glittering future
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write Poetry
I write not poetry for the poor
for tears from their swelled up eyes
smudge and erase my words,
I write poetry not for the rich
for the splotches from their fat and cheese
hide my lines of wise,
I write poetry for not men to read
for in their skirmishes, poems are trashes
like beans spilled in pond full of slush,
I write poetry for the men not to read
for poems are little words, little music
little cry that the men cant touch or destroy,
poem by Saranyan Bee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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