When poetry became
My hiding place
My words soldiers
Set to fight
Against a cold
And cruel world
In verse armed
Within the night.
The metre became
My defending walls
Reciting in
The darkened halls
Of an enemy
Known as life
A literary sword
Aimed to fight.
The slender ropes
Upon my speech
Held each note
Its voice beseech
Stand firm, stand strong
In ink and thought
Let time know
The poet fought.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: May 29th, 2026 03:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 29
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments3
I can identify with this poem set so well in short rhyming verse and with good flow. A fave
very much appreciated as always thanking you
You are most welcome Norman
.....and the poet won Norman.
Andy
Indeed he did, thanks for read, appreciated
Norman, this resonated with me. The idea of poetry as both refuge and resistance is beautifully handled here. Not a hiding place born of surrender, but one that becomes a place of strength. Wonderful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
most kind, thanking you and always much appreciated
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