The Heart of a Poet
The heart of a poet
is winged crystal bridge
marked by stomping boots.
The world in rush
Bloodthirsty army of conquest
never has enough.
Ordinarines is the Colosseum.
With a naked soul
You stood barefoot in the sand.
You fight, You write
with pounding heart
and trimbling hand.
The word is Your shield
The Ideal is Your sword
You are all alone
against the whole world.
The Emperor in laurel crown
His thumb up or his thumb down?
You are waiting
Devoted to Your muse
thrown to the lions
released to the crowd.
by Vera Dike
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