There are too many sad poems
And poets.
Too much grinding grief roams
To and fro; it
Envelopes the spirit’s homes
And moulds mind and body and bones.

Far be it from me to pretend
That a sorrow filled heave
Hasn’t had the chance to bend
Mine pen and give gracious leave,
With words’ perchance to rend
For fleeting moments that deceive
The fatigueless bite sorrow only can send.

But the beast will lick its lips,
Smile,
And latch on once-more.
All the weaved words before
Unravel.
And so our poet clicks his pen
And so the pattern plays again.
Until faintly
The notion is footed
That evolving such works ever so patiently
Will bring nothing but ever so patiently worked misery.
Sorrow scours gotten gains.
However, sorrow is but one pillar in this city
Needed at times, but surely far from
Main concerns?

Sorrow might write poems
But so does all else.
Forget finding forgiveness for failing feeling from flattened fibre!
And seek to celebrate.
Seek to inspire!

Jason Doyle

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-are-too-many-sad-poems/