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Below is the poem of the day entitled She is Poetry which was written by poet July Morning.
Have you seen the way she writes, dear poets? Words that bleed and rhymes that plead for tender love to sate each need. And verse that cries for happy sighs or a touch that bids her blood to rise. Her poems dwell on wretched spells where lovers leave and hopes are quelled- alone she weeps in private hells. Have you seen the way she writes, dear poets? Songs filled with pain and endless rain, of relationships pursued in vain. Each sonnet penned our souls would rend as dreams and wishes reached their end. And with each stroke our hearts were broke- for who could bear the angst evoked as tears her memories would stoke? Have you seen the way she writes, dear poets? Poetic praise for summer days and nights afire with passion's blaze. Her Seuss-like rhymes of social crimes inspired hope for better times. And late one night by candlelight she weaved a tale of Poe-ish fright that made us shiver with delight. Have you seen the way she writes, dear poets? She is poetry "And when I'm sad, yes when I'm blue and there's not really much to do I get online and there I find a treasure trove, a real gold mine- those pretty words arranged just right read early morn or late at night can turn my greys to rainbow hues and wake within this dormant muse."