Heretofore
The life, the lies, the heavenplace
In which we sole survive
Contain a bit of shame as well
As tiny beads of sweat.
There isn't much else to say
That hasn't already been heard.
Yet I hold you to each fashioning
Each posting; every word.
Do I dare hold open doors of genius
Only empires will abound.
Each time the art can hold its own
The world is homeward bound.
Copyright © Jan Backes | Year Posted 2006
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment