As I look back on
The poets before me,
I feel the exhilaration of
New words, now old,
But still bringing
New hope.

I sit at this typewriter,
Pouring out my veins, praying to find
These new word, that will grow old,
But that will always give that
New hope
I love and cherish.

I’ll do my best to explore the
Unknown;
Seeking out those
New hope
Words that will be a journey;
One I want to take.

The words spilling out of my heart,
Shaping my pen to give
New hope,
Crush my doubts and fears and
Give me faith to leap
Into the sky and fly.

As I soar like an eagle, I have
New hope.
Every second, it’s replenished
With the joy of free expression
And the dawning of change.
On these things, I fly.

New hope
Comes with words,
Simple and plain,
With these words, maybe
I can bring
New hope.