Watch me rise above the page
And claim myself amongst the mass
Finesse the form to shape the copy
A capacity not held by most
This challenge dire to match the purpose
A guillotine whose edge is sharp
One disparaged faced encounter
The blade descends the silence stark
But if the leaf to life sprout forward
When the prose does pierce the heart
This is when no effort squandered
This is when I rise above
Dear god give me the courage To axe what I have to axe To create such as these beautifully described prose Poetically, in course finesse. Just what the diction creator ordered for smiling Tai
Great metaphor and an important message. Prose, classic meter, free verse, whatever, it's quality of form that counts. Excellent piece. Mark
metaphorically well said...prose or poetry both have their charms....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
charming words for a Prose...nice