The Poets Are Mad

All the poets are crazy,
dreamers with so much and so little to say,
armed only with words to make everything
in the world right again.

They say, it is up to the artists
it is up to the youth

but all they have are heads, like planets,
their eyes see everything in the night, but 
find all thoughts untouchable, orbiting around their brains.

All the poets are crazy!
All the poets are mad! 
All their stories are blasphemous!

You know,
the poets write such beautiful songs...

too bad
no one understands them. 


 

JordanSara

VT

YWP Alumni

More by JordanSara

  • Growing Up

    In some crevice of my mind
    I know that spring has ended.

    I must leave behind my forest green
    and bury the laughter and dreams
    just beyond the trees.

    The snow is calling to my bones
    sapping away the life of flowers
  • Who Are You?

    I don't know.
    Shadows under my eyes 
    try to answer the question.
    They're blue and sinking deeper, fast.

    I am the girl who sings
    who writes poetry
    who stands on a stage
  • Ambivert

    You must be loud
    like a bird screaming at the sky
    they said

    And I try, I try so hard
    to be 
    and I am...

    but sometimes the words are
    hard to say, they...
    end up broken like