Poets
Poets are prophets of fire
They build the meaning in the dry leaves of morning
For meaning‘s got the taste of amber
In the eyes of the early dew
Poets are broken bridges to where
A crowd of words fills the gap of water
Yesterday, a poem invaded my night
Speechless were my soldiers in the middle of the dream field
Just behind the shoulders of the enemy
My bare hands could do no good
To pick up a lost headline
« The world is over!! »
It is the new age when
Google shall have no gifts
For those who help their children
Get their homely made poems
In words that have to mean anything
Because it is time for poetry to beget answers at last
Don’t worry Google!
That was only a piece of homework on how to write an original lie
About absurdity in the human mind
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