The old poet and I
we talked
of long gone days,
of lost "old ways"
and softly I began to cry.

Nothing was as once had been.
Did I not remember when....?
Oh, what changes had occurred.
How vulgar now are deed and word.
Has honor become a long lost friend?

We began to write with shaking hands,
each lost amongst phrases penned.
Our eyes averted from beauty's hold
we wrote of greed and of confused souls
whose deeds spread terror across the land.

We poets should oppose the trend
of hate and evil that rides the wind.
Mankind's ideals must always shine
like golden sunshine within heart and mind.
Be ye aware of the power of a poet's pen?

Let us keep focused and write.
Let us denounce evil and uphold right.
Let us address issues of both foe and friend
with the powerful weapon of a poet's pen.
Let us use our might. Let us write.

Copyright © 2004 by Gwen Dickerson
All rights reserved.