Why Poetry
Even in the darkest moments I hold
a pen with a fire to capture the fast
and fleeting muse that commands my mind to
fill the spaces between walking and dreams.
The strokes of ink are arrows, hoping for
the gods, for the titans, to reveal if
I am worthy to mix a life with dreams,
or if words stay in my mouth when I die.
Each step I take is a verse of my life,
that I write with rhyme - sometimes. Breathing is
a pact between impossible and a
faith in flight. My heart can be broken-winged,
but poetry sets me free like a bird.
No matter the hue of the moment that
spurs my mind. These words, windows that cannot
close, allows my muse open lines to fly.
Poetic Form #55: Golden Shovel
The Golden Shovel form uses a line or two from another poem. Use each
word in the line (or lines) as an end word in your poem. You keep the end
words in order as they appear in the original poem. (So, you can read their poem
reading the end words.) Make sure to give credit
to the poet who originally wrote the line (or lines). Your poem does not have
to be about the same subject.
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