To make life and love progress,
Without Freedom we’re impotent,
To give fully of our best.
Or feel Life is truly blessed.
To be able to express oneself,
The Freedom in that Joy,
It makes our Lives worth living,
Understanding chokes Destroy.
To make life and love progress,
Without Freedom we’re impotent,
To give fully of our best.
Or feel Life is truly blessed.
To be able to express oneself,
The Freedom in that Joy,
It makes our Lives worth living,
Understanding chokes Destroy.
Its tone and its lament.The poet’s love infuses it,With life and sentiment.
The only ideal place,Where all fits like a glove.
Left,If it were not,For Poets?The immense richnessOf sentimentIs in their heartsTheir words,You have toKnow it,AndCelebrate!The Human GloryOf All Poets!
The pain I felt was relentlessSharp, like the blade of a swollen knife.Goodness was his living Soul,Intelligence, his banner,Honor was his sacred goal,No man was ever finer.I miss him and I always willOur time together was so short,But in every poem I ever wrote,There is a part of him.He made me all I am today,For…
But better tis, not to write any quizThat makes intelligence frownFor the danger is, the Poet may look,Like a silly, stupid clown.
what other poets write,Communicating in good verse,Calms one another’s vital fright,And makes us feel,What in the World is still alright!