Everything there is to be said
Has been said,
Of nature, beauty,
Love, duty
And bed.
Many poetic men
(And women)
Have employed their pen
To condemn
(Or glory in)
Sin.
So perhaps its true
That there is nothing new
To be said.
Yet poets think,
And the ink
Runs blood red.
A poem to make you think, Kevin.
Thanks, Robbie. I’m pleased it prompted that response from you. Kevin
no copyright to words… just the way we use them my friend.
You are right, Eric. Best wishes, Kevin