A Poet's Lamentations
A POET'S LAMENTATIONS
Few will probably read the dripping words.
Few will probably see the wet images they convey
or hear the flowing songs they sing.
Even fewer will probably experience the misty senses they conjure.
It's not
that the senses
of the world are dead;
so much alive are they;
yet her emotions have lone gone to graves:
Shadows of resurrection looming
in the setting of each day's fading sun.
So come
ye painters of the word;
you who dare:
Come
let us sing our songs.
You who care:
Come
let us wail and scream out loud.
You who care:
Come
let our laughter bellow freely.
You who love:
Come soar into infinity
with the brave doves of peace.
Now and forever more is the word.
And we poets must pen its creative spirits:
May our hearts forever bleed upon the canvases of time!
Copyright © Millard Lowe | Year Posted 2015
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