I paint with words the colors of my moods
In language, I play the notes of my soul
With nouns and verbs, I construct structures of meaning
The script that is scene and act of my life’s issues
And if I am true, my words are yours
Poetry that is about language only
Means nothing to the ages
Word play, alliteration, assonance, rhyme and rhythm
Are scholastic toys unless vehicles of meaning
When dancing language denotes reality
Poetry is loved and lasting
David Fekete 