A mighty swift sword
takes a blatant swipe
through the Heavens
and earth
as poets cry out
in one sweet song,
and quills scream
across parchments
and ink cascades
into resplendent seas.
If demons roared
and eagles soared,
a poet has captured it
in beauteous psalm
raised to crowds
who've forgotten lore
and wept briny tears,
dabbing crimson eyes.
Indelible characters
tatooed on hearts,
swollen egos
and tortured minds...
'tis the gift,
'tis the curse...
...of a poet.







WOW! How true is this... You are going to do very very well in this contest
It's back to the old quill and chain for me.
Hugs, Patricia







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