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Monday, December 9, 2013


What our words might fail,
our passion fills that empty space.
When our passion fails,
our Muse takes the fall from grace.
Why our Muse appears to fail;
our understanding was flawed.
How our understanding fails,
our dreams are ignored.
Where our dreams fail,
our words are hollow places.

As poets we try to interpret the dance
‘tween tree and gentle breeze.
Embrace the delicate sway
transformed to shadow, from flame.
Open our heart by way of ear
and hear the whispering winds.
The tales it tells through the years
to the leaves on trees it bends.
We try in vain to master the tongue
forgotten to time’s lonely song.
But we watch and understand
what passion is destined to become.

We stop
We notice
We listen
We understand
We share…

We are…poets.

© Dec 9, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic


  1. Hey! Haven't seen your entries pop up in my feed in awhile :) Good to see you are updating. And the world needs poets. We need to stop and think and be awed by great words rather than video games and pop music. This is great.

  2. Thank you. I believe we all have a set talent; whether constructing cathedrals made of alphabetic characters, musical melodies, or stone and metal, we all offer our homage to the Greats that strolled before us.
    I love your verbal offerings as well. Always stirs one emotion or another, and that is what we seek as writers (or so I have discovered in my desire to write).
    Have a great Holiday Season. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Blessed Yuletide, and all the mental snow flurries that inspiration has to offer.