The Moya View

Poetry


It has been said, by 
someone wiser than me,
that poetry is a wind from God.

Than why do I find
such beauty in
the rhyme of dirt—

Why do I listen
to the lonely voices
of dead poets—

Why do I want to
excavate their bones,
roll in them until they break—

or burn them in the
crematorium of my soul
to spread their ashes on my face?

No, Poetry is a forsaken voice
calling out to the wind
and hearing only an echo.


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Comments

One response to “Poetry”

  1. caroline46 Avatar

    This poem defies comment except to say you nailed it with the last fantastic line

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