Verses of the Poet
Sweet are the verses in rhymes that are sung
that genius the mind in history does crown
Blank white pages with divinity and splendor
Stoned face, haunting or dark and yet tender.
With celestial visions charmed as they be
Will but lighten our hearts with a spirit free
With the streaming pulse of unwavering joy
With crystal enlightenment, this is our ploy -
That our names would lie in history's book
That eternal we'll be remembered, but look
There's a poet clasped on the mighty wind
Where the perfumed blossoms softly bend
In sweet sighs like deep breaths, to blend
With rippling streams in murmurs and then
There his solitude has sought no fame
Among the throngs of mightiest names
Like Byron, Elizabeth, Keats and Emily
Like Shakespeare, Poe, Blake and Shelly
But in the warm breath of silence he lays
Where no man may gather and praise
Gifted his glimmered thoughts proceeding
With humility's grace and love exuding
From blessed a heart as pure as the springs
Clasped upon God's wondrous wings.
Oh never lose sight of our earthly treasure
That beyond every carnal soothing pleasure
Is that gleaming gift imparted to us all
That in poetry's grace we may stand tall
In fun or in fame or in dream's pursuit
In practice or in shame or in joys mute
That our pleasured words, we may mute not
Thro' life's sorrowing moments and yet but
Thro' the coursing days of history's lines
How sweet the verses when sung in rhymes.
What does poetry mean to you personally? I'm open to heartfelt expressions to the question.
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