The Poet

Is a poet not a poet unless he is known?
Or unless his name, upon the carcass of a tree,
Blinding, in golden letters beautifully shone?
Is he not someone, to lead with might,
and raise a din of soundless voice,
to address every whim in the world’s plight?
It is said, ‘The pen is mightier than the sword’
Or sometimes it may be so true,
For a humble poet writes and stays,
to his intentions, sincere and in lieu.

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