Today,
Nationally,
We celebrate,
And exclamate,
How poetry changes us,
Day to day,
Night to night,
Life to life,

Oh poetry,
How thou hast clasped me in chains,
Soft hard shiny things,
Weighing me,
My heart and all things,
Sweet pens inking my heart out,
To a page destined to hide,
Hide in purgatory,
Till it is saved,

Oh sweet lyrical dreams,
Humanising the inanimate,
Personifying mear matter into tangible life,
With pride,
With lust,
With fury,
And lost wishful splendor,
I cannot defend,
Or become famous from it,

Oh poetry,
A niche,
A noose that will not loose itself,
From my tempestuous life,
No value,
Just priceless catharsis,
Justice,
In words that may never be read,

Poetry,
You have always had my heart,
From the start,
When the Black Rose wrote itself,
A dangerous affair began,
I went hand in hand,
With you,
With war that was long gone,
With romantics charms,
Into the arms of latin impacts,
And blunt alcoholics,
With ravens flying flying,
Forever more,
I quothe the raven,
Edgar allen poe,

Poe,
The poet in us all,
Tragic,
Human and sunken in black,
Dark imagery,
Loss and unending madness,
We poets,
Know the call,

My poetry,
Is rare and sweet,
A dark honesty,
With many different beats,
Wince you might,
Cry and swell with sadness,
Tollerate my human madness,
My journey through life,
Yet you will see,
The truth of me and all that I have to say,

Oh poetry,
Thou art brave,
Thou art both,
My husband and wife,
Married till death,
And my names fades away with all the rest,
Legends on paper and print,

Oh poets,
Raise your pens,
Our art is something that will never end.

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