Behold thy majesty,
Oh noble scribe!
Pick your pen in hand,
write for the world you bribe.
Your words are swords;
every stroke- a pierce of the soul!
Unleashing the subtle thoughts
which is beyond our control.
The words do dance,
In a fevered rhythm
and with a poetic trance!
Shakespearean echoes whisper-
A sonnet blooms with a beauty rare!
And of Chaucer's tales,
so rich in themes
and grand in exposure,
A Canterbury pilgrimage to embark,
Each word sings a melody
and leave its mark to those who feel.
Milton's Paradise has a celestial sight,
Enchanting tales that ignites the night.
An epic battle of good and evil-
Why do heavenly forces clash and spill?
Poe, the master macabre!
Sings his darkened verse;
His Raven's caw,
with a haunting plea,
To dive into the depths of misery!
Words on paper are woven like a spell,
Unlocking secrets no forteller can tell!
But on this very note;
Beware, dear reader, itâs a trap!
Where bombastic words fall and snap,
where simplicity can be oft bewitch.
Let us honor those who write,
With pens their verses ablaze,
In old literature's vast embrace,
Words on paper-
Find their place to embrace!
Thank you.
Šchrysanthemum
