There are no minor poetsA Poem by Red Brick KeshnerThere are no minor poets`I am a nut you shall never again encounter No splendid travails nor profound eloquence. But hear the rhythmic vibrance beneath these words Their substance overshadowed only by critique: That even without words discriminate The major and minors they segregate. Maybe in your journeys you pick a lucky coin And open up the gate of universalities. While there would others be with great acumen Their learned hands prolific verse provide And though one in heart I am a nut That plods and mimics with low key grace. Faint but fragrant still my roses be There are only poets, no major, no minority. ` ` © 2011 Red Brick Keshner |
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1 Review Added on February 2, 2011 Last Updated on February 2, 2011 AuthorRed Brick KeshnerBrisbane, West Moreton, AustraliaAboutPerhaps poetry is the only palpitation of my thoughts and experiences. It becomes a commentary, a puppet theatre on what is observable and discernible from the vast expanse of the human condition. Eac.. more..Writing
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