Some poems could be hailed by critics but you just wont find the greatness in them;
Some would be considered classics but you wont be able to appreciate them;
Some would not even turn heads but you would love them;
Some would be downed as rubbish but you would revere them;
However, some poems have none of the above,
Though they hit the arrow straight to the heart,
Reflecting your thoughts in the most elegant and succinct manner,
Making you wonder if the poet actually went into your mind.
The poem below by psyphycom is one of them:
At some point you’ve to walk away,
Reality paints the picture in a hazy may,
Round about, but farther from her,
It’s not a choice, but the rule here.
When cheeks feel the sense of stream,
It’s indefinite, the mirage of extreme,
Beneath the sorrrow, the pain of relief,
The about turn of that instinctive belief.
As wind blows chiding your hair,
Your listless motion of permanant impair,
The unfettered moment of resolve,
Beleaguered triumph of momentary avow.
The moment that made you history,
Memories that now overlay your story,
If only you could escape the mystery,
It’s moments that shape thy destiny.