Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

If Poetry is to be Like Fire

Idle voices do not rise,

For active ears do not prize,

Words that have not got a fire,

Words that make the waking tire.


There is no want for passive verses,

Carrying weight like sombre hearses,

There is a need for thoughts attended,

Brought to life like winter’s ended.


Then in the springtime flowers bloom,

Out of darkness, out of gloom,

They seize the light that was not there,

Taking energy with none to spare.


For if idle flowers did not rise,

Then active eyes would not prize.


So words must have a fire,

Words must not make us tire.

◄ Collapse

Crocodile ►


No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message