The PoetA Poem by Aianarie (INACTIVE)An actual response that I wrote to a young friend. He is a poet now as well. :-)Someone once asked me What do poets write but words? My mind couldn’t produce an answer So I let my heart pour forth my response And I told him: What one may see as empty words Mean so much more to he that wrote it My ashes of yesterday are fading tears His are broken, shattered hopes. A once lonely and half-hearted smile Becomes an expression of truest love Or, the darkest of untold secrets All with a single stroke of the pen. The sun, His son, how He doth shine I hear, right here, His song divine Tomorrow my sorrow will disappear When I am reminded He is always near. Beautiful, wonderful, is this not? The way I paint your dreams Close your eyes and imagine a place Where all is much more than it seems. This is where a poet’s soul can thrive And you are most welcome here, too Where hearts feel awake and alive A forgotten realm, waiting for you. © 2012 Aianarie (INACTIVE)Author's Note
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StatsAuthorAianarie (INACTIVE)Eugene, ORAbout**IMPORTANT: This account is inactive. To keep up with me, A.M. Wied, follow me at the Facebook link below! Thank you for your support!** Hello~! My name is Ashley and I am a great many things, .. more..Writing
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