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A poem is a strange, wry thing,
Which shifts and often bends,
To the whims and fancies,
Of a quivering, feathered pen.
They say a poet's blood is ink,
And so surely mine must be,
Darker than an ocean,
And blacker than a sea.
A poem is a piece of Heaven,
That didn't quite fit in,
For irreverence is mocked above,
And relished of a sin.
Ah, sweet poetry! Melodious sounds!
Even when left to dry unbound.
Would that words a greater meaning had,
When spoken in the modern age,
But alas, a poet resigns themselves,
To the mercy of an ink-dabbed quill and blank page.
A poem is a pretty thing,
Or perhaps it's quite grotesque,
Perception is a fairer guise,
Of judgement, so bereft.
Mayhap there is another way,
To speak in prose so quaint,
But blunt words are the daggers,
Of any poetic, mercenaric fate.
A poem is emotion,
A thought buried deep inside,
A philosphy deeper than an ocean,
And more random than the sky.
Poetry may fade,
As ink dries and cracks away,
But the words, so oft spoken,
Shall always yet remain.
- by WitchAlchemist |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 08/29/2009 |
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- Title: ~Poetry, Sweet Poetry~
- Artist: WitchAlchemist
- Description: Just a bit of poetry on the whimsy of poetry, I like the beginning the best. The last two paragraphs I wrote the next day, so I was rather out of the mood but they suit, I suppose. Enjoy! ~
- Date: 08/29/2009
- Tags: poetry poem heaven music philosophy
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Comments (1 Comments)
- Sunafire - 09/02/2009
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I really like this, a nice expression of what poetry is.
Good rhyming, structure and metaphors smile
A little two long and samey (Personal preferences differ, don't take it personally biggrin ) - Report As Spam