Emotion
of Disgust
(c)2013 Bob
Atkinson
softly
settled to my ears
those words I
wished to hear
brought me to
a higher level
when written
well, so treasured
waiting
patiently among
the throng of
citizens, no guns
a gentle lot
of doers well
those who
praise art and tales
standing up
to do their best
to settle for
all the rest of us
a trumpet
sound of sculpted tones
ones with
meaning held upon
a field of
life, pages open
emotional
tags, sometimes spoken
carry me to
advanced nirvana
please read
good words, not trivia
when they
speak these honored verses
so well
received and prizes awarded
my hand
reaches for the door
so I might
escape these awful chords
no, they
don't speak for me
blank faces
in the audience
form so simply irrelevant
purpose one's only good intent
form so simply irrelevant
purpose one's only good intent
when sung accolades flow quickly
a million
sold six months a pittance
poetry had come of age
yet nobody knew or accepted change
Chandos lamented openly
no quotes from us, our poetry
were made outside our borders
were not champions of language order
thought about this for a while
remembered friends in distant lands
who spoke Germanic languages different
no English were they aware of meanings
yet sung our tunes with impassioned voices
wildly swinging arms to chorus
the words meant nothing to their minds
but beat with rythyms to their hearts timed
poetry had come of age
yet nobody knew or accepted change
Chandos lamented openly
no quotes from us, our poetry
were made outside our borders
were not champions of language order
thought about this for a while
remembered friends in distant lands
who spoke Germanic languages different
no English were they aware of meanings
yet sung our tunes with impassioned voices
wildly swinging arms to chorus
the words meant nothing to their minds
but beat with rythyms to their hearts timed
