Not when thoughts into poetic lines freeze,
Nor when prose decorated is like frieze;
Not when words painted are, and feelings pose,
When winter has warm wish to be spring's rose;
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Poetry is no far from how we live; Avoid schools where fresh wings are hated, And minds are drained like fields harvested; If you close eyes from what may surround, And still can see for miles around, Or with plugged ears still can hear all clear, You are the bird that sings; you are the seer- - - - - - -Thank you for sharing this wonderful poem.
Poetry can not be forced.Beautiful words or images only can not make poetry.It lies in the heart and roams in our sphere of imagination before coming to ife.