There are too many sad poems <br />And poets. <br />Too much grinding grief roams <br />To and fro; it <br />Envelopes the spirit’s homes <br />And moulds mind and body and bones. <br /> <br />Far be it from me to pretend <br />That a sorrow filled heave <br />Hasn’t had the chance to bend <br />Mine pen and give gracious leave, <br />With words’ perchance to rend <br />For fleeting moments that deceive <br />The fatigueless bite sorrow only can send. <br /> <br />But the beast will lick its lips, <br />Smile, <br />And latch on once-more. <br />All the weaved words before <br />Unravel. <br />And so our poet clicks his pen <br />And so the pattern plays again. <br />Until faintly <br />The notion is footed <br />That evolving such works ever so patiently <br />Will bring nothing but ever so patiently worked misery. <br />Sorrow scours gotten gains. <br />However, sorrow is but one pillar in this city <br />Needed at times, but surely far from <br />Main concerns? <br /> <br />Sorrow might write poems <br />But so does all else. <br />Forget finding forgiveness for failing feeling from flattened fibre! <br />And seek to celebrate. <br />Seek to inspire!<br /><br />Jason Doyle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-are-too-many-sad-poems/
