Poets ponder
They cannot squander
A stipend they do not receive
For paid in thought
Their piece of mind
Are words formed and conceived
A tale of sorts
Depiction of life
Even death if they so choose
Sometimes humor
So often, strife
Sometimes fake and sometimes true
To live on poetry
Getting paid for thoughts
Is not within the poets reach
That’s why they work
Many various jobs
Laborers, professionals, and some, they teach
Within their thoughts
Their written words
Lies the life for which they wish
For there in mind
Though pockets bare
The poet knows, within, he’s rich
As thought has value
But not of dollar
Intrinsic is what it shall always be
The poet stands
Not then with riches
But pride in thought, his dignity
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Comments5
Love the way you play with words formed as a piece of that mind? Or maybe paid for thought leaves poets PEACE of mind?
This works omnidirectional and I appreciate that
Such a lovely tribute to all of us who write for love, sometimes I can also feel myself healing, just by sharing. A lovely poem and your last lines so very true I couldn't be more proud than when even just one other enjoys my scribbles. Thank you. 💖
I really love this piece! I was just telling my sister "all I want to do is write"! But we have responsibilities. So we cry, grieve, laugh....love...and in between, write it all down!!
"Amor verborum" dear friend, for love of words, you have captured the heart and soul of the poet in this beautiful poem. It seems the poet has always been here, and always will be, helping us reach for the stars, as you have done. A thousand fav's!
Hi! Thank you for sharing your poem. I agree with you, and it impressed me very much. Have a nice day!
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