I liked this so much that when I rewrote my introduction pages, I wanted to include this on the poetry page. - poetheart 08/09/01
I stop and gaze about me, at all the shattered lives-
And pain and sorrow round me, on which the poet thrives.
Of broken hearted lovers, lost souls, and all the rest...
It seems the one who hurts the worst, is he who writes the best.
I see the wraiths about me, with diff'rent shades of blues-
They're hell bent for destruction, as each one pays his dues.
To love and lose begins it, and starts you down the road-
To write successful poetry, one must needs bear a load.
A load of grief, for certain; a load of guilt perchance-
The roads of life we travel, do often twist and branch.
Each foolish, wrong decision, lends impetus to those
Who'd write to thrill a vulgar crowd, with all their pain and woes.
For like the crowds of Romans, who cheered the Christian's death
The world doth gloat on sorrow, the poet's very breath.
To write profane doth cast a stain, on every one of us
For poetry is to our ilk, almost a sacred trust.
If I would be remembered, I'd hope that it will be-
As one who with his words and rhyme, could paint a tapestry.
As one whose words could take and bend, the very human mind
And with his words the broken mend, and sooth all human kind.
by John R. Yaws