Words of the Pretended Poet
We write from the depths of our soul,
No words are planned, no thoughts subscribed.
Much imagination was not given, yet
This heart beckons to the thoughts of life
This pretended poet writes.
Although our life is based on speech,
We are no orator as those we know or hear.
Humble by the passage of time,
We share what our eyes have seen and more.
Thus, this pretended poet tries.
And yet it is not like it was before,
Our words are mangle with thoughts sublimed.
Some we create and some we admire,
But clearly, we prod and press to know
The meaning of this pretended poet words.
We see the innocent shadows of the street,
The pain of death in and around our youth,
The packed cells of the prison walls,
The actions and violence of war,
Bringing unwanted tears to this pretended poets eyes.
Many friendships have been formed;
Many lives have been touched.
Many have blest us as they wander by;
They see, we listen and commend.
The repose of this pretended poet's vision,
There are days that the poet wishes not to awake .
But then, there are days when life sweet joys
Brings awesome thought ;
And makes us hinder from sleep or fear
The days toils, conquest and delight,
This pretended poet lives and smile.
We have encountered the words of Shakespeare,
Hemmingway, Tennyson, Braun and Bryon.
Ever inspired by these who have passed on
Clinging to their ever majestic wit and words,
This pretended poet tries to be equal with the pen.
Alas, one day someone will ask or say
Who was this poet we did not know?
They will read his tales of time past and even present
And share with others, his great divide.
Glad that in their passing,
They encountered this pretended poet words.
We write from the depths of our soul,
No words are planned, no thoughts subscribed.
Much imagination was not given, yet
This heart beckons to the thoughts of life
This pretended poet writes.
Although our life is based on speech,
We are no orator as those we know or hear.
Humble by the passage of time,
We share what our eyes have seen and more.
Thus, this pretended poet tries.
And yet it is not like it was before,
Our words are mangle with thoughts sublimed.
Some we create and some we admire,
But clearly, we prod and press to know
The meaning of this pretended poet words.
We see the innocent shadows of the street,
The pain of death in and around our youth,
The packed cells of the prison walls,
The actions and violence of war,
Bringing unwanted tears to this pretended poets eyes.
Many friendships have been formed;
Many lives have been touched.
Many have blest us as they wander by;
They see, we listen and commend.
The repose of this pretended poet's vision,
There are days that the poet wishes not to awake .
But then, there are days when life sweet joys
Brings awesome thought ;
And makes us hinder from sleep or fear
The days toils, conquest and delight,
This pretended poet lives and smile.
We have encountered the words of Shakespeare,
Hemmingway, Tennyson, Braun and Bryon.
Ever inspired by these who have passed on
Clinging to their ever majestic wit and words,
This pretended poet tries to be equal with the pen.
Alas, one day someone will ask or say
Who was this poet we did not know?
They will read his tales of time past and even present
And share with others, his great divide.
Glad that in their passing,
They encountered this pretended poet words.
