Poesy
Poesy
(For Dryden)
True Poets dodge the fakeness of fame,
they allow praise to fall away from their thoughts.
Old Poets understand the beauty of the sun rising from the east.
Allowing opportunity for new dreams and new places to come alive in their words.
They love watching the sun falling into the western sea,
allowing the night to overcome the excitement of the day.
A wise Poet behold the beauty of the woman,
tried to describe the softness of her skin and the feel
of her warm sweet kisses.
The Poet must feel the burden of war.
A writer must taste and know death, poverty and suffering.
A empty journey leave nothing for the pen and the paper.
Writers are neither revolutionist nor a martyr.
Just observers.
Great Poets left us with real description of war.
Many poets died in combat in the old wars.
Their poetry was longing for home and the beautiful valleys of their youth.
Best honor for a writer.
Have more Poesy written because of their words.
This poem is for my favorite Poet Dryden.
His words will never be forgotten.
“War, our consumption, was their gainful trade.”
“What peace can be, where both to one pretend.”
(Dryden words.)
I tell the young writers.
Honor the old words.
Never be a naysayer to a up and coming writer.
We need more word-man and word-woman.
A real Poet love the word.
Written with skill or not.
Words written from the heart,
we need to read with a kind heart.
Coyote
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