Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

The Poet

 

His quill and ink are meant to heal and save.
His hearty words to fill the void and gaps.
His soul and mind have lived along to rave 
the manly pride and noble manners' lapse.

His secret love, a poem's sound, a guide
that tightly held the dreams that long have dwelt
into the humans' forts of time-inside
when time attacked and botched what they once built.

He burnt his ribs to greyish ash then paved
to save a heart, a candle lit the dark.
No breeze or snow has cooled his heat that ached
the hero's pains, the blues that scar and mark.

Long live the poet's words that versed to please.
Long live those words so love would never cease.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

Isn't that a nice word?
Elegant write, excellent meter for the most part, nothing that bothers me much.

But does it have to be in the masculine? You, a female poet wrote this.

Perhaps I am missing the subtlety that woman's writing has more gestalt. They don't have to
burnt their ribs to greyish ash then paved
to save a heart, a candle lit the dark.

Is that the point?

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

Yes , Elegant IS a nice word and coming from your side it becomes even nicer so thank you .
thanks too for reading and though I am not fully getting your point about the Musculine, feminine thing , yet I supposed that it works for both, doesn't it?

Thanks again.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

author comment

quill and ink are meant to heal and save.
hearty words to fill the void and gaps.
soul and mind have lived along to rave
the human pride and noble manners' lapse.

secret love, a poem's sound, a guide
that tightly held the dreams that long have dwelt
into the humans' forts of time-inside
when time attacked and botched what they once built.

The poet's ribs are burnt to greyish ash then paved
to save a heart, a candle lit the dark.
No breeze or snow has cooled the heat that ached
the hero's pains, the blues that scar and mark.

Long live the poet's words that versed to please.
Long live those words so love would never cease.

Does this version lose something you wanted to say?

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

it only affects the form of the sonnet ((( a bit))) then I am afraid it won't pass the test ((smiles)))
many thanks . I shall sure consider this next time.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

author comment
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.