Portraits Poetry Series #24: Poetry is Still Alive

Portraits Series


How many of us

Have been touched

By a poem?

The lines

The words

The rhythm

The meter

It sweeps us off our feet

And we are never the same.

And memories

Never lived,

Become our own

Because the words

Romanced our hearts.

How many have ridden

Through the cold

Of winter’s evening

And their heart

Was romanced

By the memories

Of Robert Frost

On a snowy evening

Mode of transport different

Than any we have witnessed


But the words speak to us

Just the same

Do you ever think about him –

When the snow does fall?

When you walk the lane

Of crumbling forest wall

How can our hearts not leap?

And how many a curious pen

Has scribbled similar line

In hopes to keep such company

And when his pen stroked

Across the page

Line after line

Of pain and beauty

Did he know their import?

Did he believe in his words?

How many have they touched?

And shall we ever be the same?

Some may say,

That poetry is dead

It gains nothing

To place words upon a page

Trifle waste of time, is all

But I dare to disagree.

They have swept us up

In these moments

Their imaginings

Their worries

Their lies

We lived through

Each and every line

The agony of every word

We cried

Every single tear

Beside their weary heads

And yes, we even held the pen

Clasped within hands

That knew words had meaning

Even if we didn’t know

How much we needed them.


© Sumyanna 2016



3 Comments Add yours

  1. Delyn Merce says:

    So very true–Long Live Poets!!

    Liked by 1 person

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