Listen to poem:
The Power of Poetry
I Climbed rocks winged with words,
and paint beauties on my path,
invade palaces unhindered,
bearing arms welling from this frame.
I draw the sword from the scabbard,
piercing dictators with a dagger,
I cut their cables by this craft,
and watched their fickle frame subdued.
I soar like eagle in my thoughts,
coruscating gleams attending,
I see nature's beauty and hear voices,
I roam in firce shades in search of jewels,
The pulse of fear or grim assails,
Yet capapie and undaunted.
I see men entrapped in a race,
oh! that they might see the filth,
and time, how short to pen,
these vague and obscure moments.
Yet, poetry catches but a few.
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