
Thursday, January 30, 2025
POEM - WE ONLY WORK WITH WORDS
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
We only work with words,
We poets do,
To sing,
To draw,
To paint,
To point,
To link,
To loosen that which must be free.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
As best we can,
As they come
As they go,
Or stay,
Emblazoned on our souls.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
So variable,
So insensible,
So certain,
So unsure,
So real,
So lying and yet, because...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
We love,
We laugh,
We cry,
We sing,
We praise,
We demand,
We defend,
And sometimes...
We fail.
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And words are clay, which,
Though molded properly,
And sure and glistening at first,
May slump or turn drab,
In the heat of day and sight of men.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And ask the reader to read,
What was in minds and hearts,
When set upon the page,
With eyes like ours,
Who saw the sun and sky,
And tried to sing its praises,
But missed the mark.
So too, with love, honor, and courage...
Read our tales with piety and pity,
For round-shouldered scribes,
Trying to make beauty out of letters,
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And must leave the living,
And understanding of our work
Up to you...the reader.
Donovan Baldwin
30 Jan 2018
We poets do,
To sing,
To draw,
To paint,
To point,
To link,
To loosen that which must be free.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
As best we can,
As they come
As they go,
Or stay,
Emblazoned on our souls.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
So variable,
So insensible,
So certain,
So unsure,
So real,
So lying and yet, because...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
We love,
We laugh,
We cry,
We sing,
We praise,
We demand,
We defend,
And sometimes...
We fail.
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And words are clay, which,
Though molded properly,
And sure and glistening at first,
May slump or turn drab,
In the heat of day and sight of men.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And ask the reader to read,
What was in minds and hearts,
When set upon the page,
With eyes like ours,
Who saw the sun and sky,
And tried to sing its praises,
But missed the mark.
So too, with love, honor, and courage...
Read our tales with piety and pity,
For round-shouldered scribes,
Trying to make beauty out of letters,
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And must leave the living,
And understanding of our work
Up to you...the reader.
Donovan Baldwin
30 Jan 2018
SPONSORED BY REVITOL SKINCARE PRODUCTS
Labels: donovan baldwin, poem, poetry, words