Has poetry become of age,
Shaking off the role of sage,
Of fool, of minstrel, through endless times,
Using meter, form and rhymes?
Stepping to another time,
Many no longer using rhyme,
Verses spoken, clear of thought,
No defense, no danger fraught.
A vessel touching those around,
A simple thought, a view profound,
A life well lived or one of struggle
Bed down well, together snuggle.
Simply stated, styled or formed,
Respect and understanding earned,
As each relate to what is said,
As individuals resonate.
For what is yours may not be mine,
Each of us our way to shine,
Some like it cold, some like it hot,
Yet good words written forgotten not.
Touching heart, rousing soul,
Describing new a way to go,
Poetry in all its forms,
Brightening days and challenging norms.
© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane
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