This poem mostly wrote itself while, after reading a Facebook post, I thought about the (perceived) rights of poets to speak about issues. I cannot be a poet No, I cannot be a poet. From the endless fount of issues that may plague the skin of my brothers, I can't write a poem about any … Continue reading I cannot be a poet
Noticed a lot of the poems - some of mine too - I read these days has activist tones. This goes out to several poets, myself included. I wonder how poetry would thrive if the spikes of suffering, of sadness had been flattened out. How many would write about the magic in an orange moon as it … Continue reading What if?