Every now and then
With every grip of the pen
I’m reminded of the art form
That is poetry.
An art shunned
In relative environments
A point of view
I liken to saw dust
Protruding on my shoulder,
I brush it off.
The survival of poetry
Has gone beyond the days
Of the achromatic overlay,
Painting pictures with words
Naturally with cross-over ability
Colorful ideas are portrayed.
With my mind and pen in hand
I fight to close the generation gap
To show otherwise indifferent individuals.
That the art is
By no means
Dead.
– Original-Dante ©2016
Photograph by:Â BenHeine
O.D. 