The Heart of a Poet

The heart of a poet is winged crystal bridge marked by stomping boots. The world in rush Bloodthirsty army of conquest never has enough. Ordinarines is the Colosseum. With a naked soul You stood barefoot in the sand. You fight, You write with pounding heart and trimbling hand. The word is Your shield The Ideal is Your sword You are all alone against the whole world. The Emperor in laurel crown His thumb up or his thumb down? You are waiting Devoted to Your muse thrown to the lions released to the crowd. by Vera Dike