I read the words of competition winners
And wonder where the poetry has gone?
It's wandering - abandoned, forlorn -
While poets have become unthinking sinners.
As beauty is not valued anymore,
And any written words are called verses,
I doubt the state of art could further worsen:
It has no place for "sparks divine" inborn.
Yet I'm obsessed with strange desire to say
What I observe and feel, what I discover,
With hope to cope - before my life is over -
To formulate my grief and my despair.
It is a part of practice for detachment:
To know the world and find the words that match it.
08.02.2016
I read the words of competition winners
© Copyright: Валерия Ливина, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116060209304
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