Poems Are….

Poems are buckets of words poured on unresponsive sheets of paper The melting ink inside the mind of a poet The provoked mind spitting out a mystic array of gems The trembling pen shaves the ghostly shadows of words left behind by the careless poet Poems are stories of love, tales of heroic deeds left behind by the fleeing shadows. Ghostly figures emancipated by their experience in the war zone. Poems are chains linking the dreamer to his dreamless journey Poems are tears of slaves, the silent screams of dying soldiers on the battlefield, the bleeding heart of a broken spirit. Poems are the pleasant morning sunshine, the leathery feel of a rose, the sensual ejaculation of the human spirit. Poems are a celebration of art, a portrait of the deepest end of the human soul. Poems are...