Poem By Ruth A. Black

Some poets publish their own books
Some never broadcast much;
But still the two of them must write
To clear their minds of such
Migrating moods that come, then go,
Like birds that reappear.
Each written word an author notes
Brings music to the ear.

Comments about Writing

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of RUTH A. BLACK

"Passing Of Our Chief&Quot;

Oh, the cadence of the march
and the muffled sound of drum,
As they bear the hero on to the
Waiting grave beyond -

Old Glory

"Old Glory," stoutly face the wind!
Wave proud, wave proud, wave proud!
You've weathered many an anxious storm,
But never have you bowed!