Poem on "fire at evening"- Paul Klee.

In the darkness
The fire lights up the night,
In the calm dark mountains
A burst that's so bright,
The sound is piercing
but there's no noise at all,
Only the beauty of the still nightfall,
Just the flames shooting high
Into the never ending sky,
No stars shining bright,
Just the burning orange light.
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Poem on -What is poetry?

What is poetry?

Is it a work of art,
Or is it simply words?

Is it where a new idea can start,
Or is it where old ideas make a home?

Is it emotions pouring out,
Or is it feelings trapped on paper, even worse then before?

Is it inspiration to clear your doubt,
Or is it just writing for yourself,
and nothing more?
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Poem on - what happens to a _____?

What happens to an old song?
Does it still play-
Even though no one is listening?
Does it fade away-
Or keep on glistening?
Does it know that it's old-
And remember it's youth?
Or does the song live on-
Never knowing the truth?
Maybe it got tired of playing it's tune-
Or does it hope that it will be played again, sometime really soon?