The Art Of Speech - Poetry

Only Real

Only Real poets ryhme
Basing their lines
Off of new design
Classification of participation
In order to refine
Their own thoughts.
But moved only
By the sound of
Other's company

I am not a poet
merely a child
Whose eyes have wrinkled
From the years.
I do not fear
My lack of title
Like most weak men do

Only Real souls
Collide with the wind
Rather than let it move them
They do not stand firm
But breath with violence and sterness
Of mind

I allow the air to fill my lungs
Caressing my soul
I dance with the leaves
That have been picked up by the breeze
While the world
Stands cold