The following poem is another exercise in rhyme and rhythm. I have been reading some of the older 19th and early 20th century poets and they are definitly inspiring. It should be noted that many people often make the mistake of ascribing to the poet or artist the thoughts and emotions in their art. Although on many occassions this is true and the art comes straight out of the feeling artist – on many others the artist is able to channel the emotions of others or is seeking to manufacture emotion where it may not exist – simply stated – just because a poet writes a sad poem it does not mean they are sad.

 

=============================================

 

What flower

cold and dried

upon the sand

locked away from sight

amidst the land

 

harsh wind rakes

the grains

scratch ‘cross soft flesh

small hope protect

instead enmesh

 

what flower

breaks sad, o sad

crumbles in hand

sweet life runs out

unknown. unplanned.

 

till in this tragic desert cage

a life once past was bright ablaze

now lies grey-still

against God’s will

in night’s witness – stone black rage