To the anonymous poets: Thank you.
"Death He is, Death He isn't" By Anonymous
-Death he is a warrior,
charging head-on men of great strength and valour.
Death he is a coward,
Reaping youth of no accomplishment or stature.
Death he is a scholar,
imparting wisdom to those willing to listen.
Death he is a fool,
destroying the knowledge of the character's glisten.
Death is a flood,
engulfing and consuming all who dare oppose it.
Death is a trickle,
steeling men's hearts and minds against the wind that blows.
Death he is a king,
ruling men's destinies with absolute power.
Death he is a peasant,
subject to minds of Fear, Hate, Will and Desire.
Death is a captor,
containing men inside their own prisons and chains.
Death is a saviour,
releasing men from tiring, decade-old pains.
Death he is,
Death he isn't.
"The Volume of the Soul" By Anonymous
-Poetry is not the fashioning of words,
it is the forging of swords.
Poetry is not the stanzas or the verse,
it is the carriage or the hearse.
Poetry is not just some thoughts to rhyme,
it is the journal of the time.
Poetry is not a simple jargon of fools,
It is the thoughts of your soul.
Poetry is the dialect that is you,
a voice worth listening to.
"Again I Rise" By Anonymous
-The change it blows,
across the sky.
The wind it grows,
as seasons die.
Heralding might,
with each new dawn.
Winning the fight,
through guise of calm.
