*****
Speak Up!
Small voices trembling,
Bringing forward offerings of verse,
Laid before the minion, a clipped council,
Cloaked, with their terse bursts of malcontent,
Then a maiden fair,
With shining jewel of prose profound,
At the sepulcher of mediocrity,
Shows a light quite rare and beautiful,
Crackling cheeks fight back smiles,
Gathering stars and thumbs, dusty, unspent,
As she speaks her rhyming crescendo,
Cold hearts deny their joy no more, in tears.
*****
2007-08-09
10:42:56
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12 answers
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asked by
TD Euwaite?
6
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry