A Poet Finds Herself
She dreamt he was with her.
Massaging her shoulders.
Whispering in her ear to pen
poems far bolder!
"Stop writing to please the crowd"
Alas, poetess, afraid she'd be
wearing a shroud.
Wanting always the friendly
slap on the back.
Forgetting other poets, their
boots she need not black.
Writing a poem she loved~
Should be her tack.
A good poem on it's own doth
stand.
Comments neither make a poem,
Nor a woman nor a man grand.
But it's the poetess, whom in
herself must believe.
Making sure above all, it is
her God to please!
10/18/2020
Opus #4
Copyright © Panagiota Romios | Year Posted 2020
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