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THE WRITTEN WORD

Diligently we entertain,
Eloquently we maintain.
Our thoughts our dreams,
Belong to all that shape.
Our nights into screams,
Or is it just the written verse.
That goes from bad to worse,
Back to good non rehearsed.
Wantonly reading every line,
Becomes leaping into our minds.
Wanting more every time.
Until it reaches fever pitch,
Back from peaceful interlude,
The majestic writer writes.
Sometimes days sometimes nights,
With nail biting wit he exposes.
What then is left of him,
Drowning in words that comes from within.
Did the world they created make you think,
Whilst putting the book they wrote upon a shelf.
If you ignore the written word do you understand,
What then is left alone often of ourselves.
As the world tumbles into war once again,
You read the first three little words.
That etches within your soul your brain,
THOU MUST NOT your world will never feel the same.
You put down the bible once again.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley