We Were Poets
The world may or may not remember our names.
That which they call “fame” is like the flame on a candle,
It can give a light in the darkness, but it flickers at its best.
The time we spent together here,
Will one day be just another file in the computer of our memories.
And a grandchild may ask me somewhen,
What we were, and what it was all about—
We were poets.
We were fledglings trying out new wings,
Older poets learning different ways to dramatize our lines,
And now and then there would be a masterpiece from each of us
That the rest could appreciate and idolize.
We were poets.
We were songs that made the world sing,
Contests that challenged us to go beyond anything before,
Imagery that painted the pictures within the reader’s head,
Forms, and rhymes, free verse long and short—
Never be ashamed to just stand up proud and say:
“You want to know how we spent our days?—
We were poets…
Dale Harris
© 8/7/07