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