The Poet’s Legacy

A poem, what else…

A poem be it told or kept hidden within
Is balm to feelings scorched or sword to gloating sin
Its fire purifies the souls to be redeemed
It’s honey to the heart longing to be relieved

Blessed is the poet for even he be slain,
To dust his body turns but his poems remain
He may have lived to see that he must die in vain
His solace lies within ideas that remain

Will heavens his soul claim, or shall he cross the Styx
On but a frail vessel along fellow mystics
Who dared defy the gods with but some words and rhyme
And lightly will depart when vengeance seals their crime

He parts leaving behind no legacy nor gold
His poem is a child he shall not live to raise
Entrust it to the world he leaves without a praise
His poem is the praise he never would be told

To those who will remain when everything is lost
The happy few of us who crave poems the most
His poem is a gem he bequeathed to the world
His poem is a world bequeathed to fellow men

Let the board sound

Rabih

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Rabih

Lebanese, French, writing mostly in Frenglish and hoping to make a difference.

4 thoughts on “The Poet’s Legacy”

    1. Combien d’hommes disparus qui un jour ont dit non
      Dans la mort propice, leurs corps s’évanouissent
      On se souvient ni de leurs yeux, ni de leur nom
      Leurs mots qui demeurent chantent “juste” à l’heure.
      L’inconnu a dit la vérité, il doit être exécuté.

      – Guy Beart

      Like

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