We are poets,
We have some words,
They are our pets,
They sing like birds.
Books are our garden,
And the pen a magician-
Which brings out the illusion,
From our romantic den.
We touch the soul,
Of all who dreams.
We cool the burning coal,
Of the inner screams.
We have no death,
For we live in your heart.
We bring romance,
In this world's art,
For we are the fragrance,
Of your silent breath.
A contest entry
- PREWRITES! by forbidden-colour.
400 points, ended August 10, 112 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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I liked your second from last line, about the fragrance of life. That was a special line to me, I am a fan of frangrances and perfumes. Love them. Although allergic to most.
Thank you for entering.
Good luck.
Sophie
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Good
Vibiesh I loved your poem about poets
It had a very good feel in it and a very good flow too
I enjoyed it ( excelent ) keep writing
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Awesome work here and so true!
I really enjoyed reading this piece
by you. Great metaphors and imagery
throughout it. Thanks a lot for
sharing it here!
Jeremy0826 -
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G thanks Sir
With Love
Vibiesh -
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You are very welcome, it's my pleasure!
Take care!
Jeremy0826
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