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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


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Read books online » Poetry » the edge of rain by Kenny Peters (black male authors TXT) 📖

Book online «the edge of rain by Kenny Peters (black male authors TXT) 📖». Author Kenny Peters



Tonight I stood at the edge of the rain
And felt the water from above fall on my hands with reckless abandon
Reckless abandon this day requires strained effort to feel it

I can’t do that.
I can’t not feel the rain
I can’t not swim in the ocean
I can’t not be

We watch hours and hours of electronic boxes,
Some of which I escape, some which I do not
And find everything from fear to fulfillment in that tube
There is no “f” in love.

I can’t do that
I can’t not feel the love
I can’t not bask in the light
I can’t not be

The callings we feel from the depths of our soul
Are never the things that we would choose.
They challenge every part of our being
They dictate who wins and will lose…

that is the natural course of our destiny
That is the cause of desire
That is the meaning we’re meant to be
That is the day of our fire

You should have come out to feel the rain
You should have stood without an invite
or an explanation after all this time….
Was my heart ever truly awake or was it really just blind…..

I returned to the edge a very short time later
Hoping you’d join me again
But the rain had stopped; there was no more to fall
And that moment escaped with the wind

Frail as a dream but grounded by earth
I don’t think it can fall again…..

Imprint

Text: 2009 Kenny Peters
Publication Date: 10-01-2009

All Rights Reserved

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