Poetry sees some action

Poetry, a dying art? Can spoken verse persist as part Of lover’s tongue or tyrant’s rant, Of sacred plea or childish chant? Archaic skill so stigmatised, A generation digitised Can see no point, no sense, no gain In blissful ignorance remains - But then, as sunbeams through the mist Like siren’s song, who can resist? A poet calls to youthful ears As now enlightenment appears The spell is cast, the spark is lit Captivated listeners sit Hours now like seconds pass (At least it gets us out of class) Perhaps we may have learned a fraction From this Poetry in Action!

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