just thinking about poets big and small...




Dylan, Edgar, Dorothy, and me?

Dylan Thomas

raged against the dying of the light

and Edgar Allan heard that knocking

in the night.

Dorthy Parker wrote of life and lived it

amongst the elite

sinking into depression

often feeling the depths of defeat.

And I am no one, except what I be

writing thoughts in poetry

exposing my nakedness, raw and free.

 

Why do I do it? I ask myself and know

I'm reaching out to the universe

because my little world has let me go.

 

Inside this mind is a mountain

stacked high with memories and dreams

pictures flashing by as windows

of what was, is, and those wishful scenes.

There are times, deep in the caverns

all hopes come crashing down.

When reality mines the future

depleting the foundation of its ground.

 

It seems these once living poets

are no different than you or I.

They felt this life too deeply.

Sang their song so eternally sweetly.

And, as it is appointed once, they died.

 

 





Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 966 times
Written on 2016-12-16 at 19:05

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
No, there is no difference. I imagine that there are greater works by unknown people. It is all fate. And you are right about the mountain of talent that you need to bring into this world. You are a great poet.
2016-12-22


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I'm not so sure that these people lived life too deeply. Maybe they just spotted a heap of words, and thought, "I wonder what I can make out of these."
2016-12-17


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
There is another poet who shared these thoughts, Emily Dickinson.

"I'm reaching out to the universe
because my little world has let me go.

Inside this mind is a mountain
stacked high with memories and dreams
pictures flashing by as windows
of what was, is, and those wishful scenes."

You share an unstoppable need to reach out, and we are better for it.
2016-12-17


Bibek The PoetBay support member heart!
So true. There isn't any difference. We all feel life too deeply and write about it, raw and free.
2016-12-17



There is no difference, is there? We tell about our lives, our loves, our failures, each to our own ability. This is a beautiful poem.
Ashe~
2016-12-16