My dear readers,
Today, I wanted to talk to you about poetry, one of the oldest literary currents and which evoloved century after century without any apparent end.
Its art seems boundless, the diversity of his expression and his goals are infinite. Over the years, we find several types of poets: the artist, anxious about formal beauty; the lyric, which cultivates the song of the soul; the prophet, seeing and discovering the world; the activist for his ideas.
George Sand, one of the best-known French poets, said that « art for art is an empty word, art for beauty and good, that is the religion I seek for. » and these words resonate incessantly in my mind as soon as I grasp pencil or pen.
Dear readers, I would like to share today one of my poems to give you my feelings about poetry.
The love of poetry
Poetry, more beautiful forms of writing
Seeks to offer its splendor to the future
And without wear its whispers a sweet truths
To build day after day a destiny
Its words are vain so volatile or poisonous
Its words are true so travelers and valorous
Exploits the source of silver lights
Continuously discover new realities
The life of a poet a priesthood to its art
To share what he saw at the top of a lighthouse
His knowledge a mountain that he climbs step by step
His fears are with him to better live his joy
It is love that guides and animates it
The melancholy which inspires and expresses it
To savor the splendors of life without any hesitation
Thus are liberated his words and satirical verses
That it shares to deliver its euphoria
Hoping to free ourselves from the horrors that oppress us
His way is endless, dotted with a thousand flowers
He takes advantage of these hours to offer you his hard work
Desiring to make you cry tears of happiness
My dear readers, see you soon!