Here you can share your new poetry, whatever that means. No reruns please, let's make it about right now.
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To be a poet, I once believed,
was to write aesthetically:
violet blues and rosy reds
dancing along to rhythmic beat.
Seeing surface without substance,
was it broken paedagogy?
Why, Mister King, 10th grade teacher,
couldn't you name this as magic?
Not those gleamy popular tropes.
These are symbols, woven patterns,
invocations of higher form;
spirit flowing, revealing self.
Not my power, I am quite sm