Common Ground

Young men can write good poetry, it’s true,
but so can old men, girls and women too.
Yeats, Heaney, Maya Angelou and Plath,
prove neither age, nor gender, bar its path.
Thriving on joy, pain, laughter and self-doubt,
open to all, it finds its own way out.
Poetry’s for children, playing games with rhyme.
It is for lovers, drunk on words, not wine.
For folk with feet in mud, who touch the sky,
for people learning how to live, and die.
For those of every colour, creed and tongue,
sinners and saints, rich, poor. For everyone.

Isabel Miles

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Isabel Miles  would be pleased to hear them