ANOTHER VIEW OF POETRY A woman whom I thought I knew Had read some poetry I wrote. She said she offered me no thanks. My poems were no more than wanks. Their aim she said in her kind note. Was to inflate my ego too. What she had questioned was intent. What drives this passion we possess. We say that poets have been blessed. It may that we are possessed. If I am honest ,I’ll confess, I do enjoy acknowledgement. There is a purpose. Poets know There is a reason why we share. If we can challenge you to think, Validate feeling through our ink, If we can let you know we care, Encourage you so you may grow. If we can show alternatives To platitudes and old ideas, Then we have carried out our task. There is no more we need to ask. So put aside your hate and fears. This is a world, which takes and gives. The ideal poet disappears. It is the message, which endures. There is so much for us to see. We live in a community. We look at life but have no cures. We see a world where all are peers.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 23:03:28 +0000
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