On World Poetry Day Poem by Henry Tong

Scattered words,
like fallen petals
sound foreign
in the early spring.

They erect, but bodiless,
as deranged symbols
unable to decode
the sphere of humanity.

In verses they record
desolation in vanity,
desperation in complacency-
a sacrifice to solemnity.

They shake souls of the benighted,
but recluse along in loneliness.
They hearken light with deference,
but seek long a soul compassion.

With power in mind and soul,
they are embedded in poetry's soil,
thus uplifting us to the zenith,
with an emblazened pen, and toil.