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Perceptions Of A Purely Practical Poet

To be a good poet, what does it mean?
Do we see what the world's not seen?
Can we know existence beyond others?
Are we higher by being poetry lovers?

How many word wizards have wallowed
in arrogance that's filled one up inside
of which we poets could've swallowed,
just a little lump of our puffed up pride.

We are not psychics, gods, or gurus
but, we seek to grow in our spiritual quest.
Our influential power, we mustn't abuse.
How careful to be, with what we express!

Visionaries and idealists, writing our dreams
we ponder the unknown realms of mystery.
Most agree anything's possible, it seems.
But, how far will we go with our poetry?

Are we to be wiser, giving sound advice
as authorities on life, death, love and loss,
pretending all this long enough to suffice,
then we'll pay for it, at such a dear cost!

By refusing defeat to limits of the mind
spirits grow strong yet, bodies get weak.
Racing time, obsessions draw the line,
Dwindling down to a future gone bleak.

We're only human and must admit this.
That will be pure words with nobility.
By releasing vain pressures of genius
this poet can write with some humility.

I Wrote This Because Of Some "Haughty" Poets! Copyright �Nov. 2000 Thomas F Crumpler


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