A poet is a shooting star that burns with briefest light.
He glows with glory from afar, then disappears from sight.
A poet flickers in the gloom, a solitary flame.
A ghost, who haunts a garret's gloom without a famous name.
A poet's words aren't wonderful, though from a merry heart
a feast of fun and fellowship a poet may impart!
A poet is the scourge of God upon the tyrants bold.
With words he'll smash their iron rod, as prophets did of old.
A poet, is so sensitive, to readers, since they share
a soul and his humanity. To slight them, he’d not dare.
A poet's never arrogant, as if he were a king.
A poet, when all's said and done, is such a paltry thing.
A poet though's remarkable, for pen that he does own
can soothe a sick and sorry soul, but break a bully's bone!
- Author: Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: November 8th, 2022 02:28
- Comment from author about the poem: for poet friends
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 14
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