Surely, most of us, poet or non-poet, has heard at least the opening of the famous "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer. If you haven't I recommend looking it up. I personally enjoy, no I love it wholeheartedly but over time it has seen some ridicule and mockery and I don't understand why? It is a beautiful sentiment filled with imagery. I believe those who have ridiculed it were only trying to make themselves look good by tearing it down and are actually jealous of its simple beauty and truth. Feel free to make comments on your opinions but here is your chance to weigh in on your oppinion of the poem "Trees":

Write a poem about the summer heat.

A huge congratulations to @Timothy Lenhart Lenhart for being selected as this week's Poem of the Week with his heartfelt piece, "To Be Loved." Timothy's poem is a powerful reflection on vulnerability, hope, and the universal longing to be accepted for who we truly are. It reminds us that some of the strongest poetry comes from the quiet places we don't always share. Please join me in celebrating Timothy's incredible work! Leave him a comment, let him know what lines resonated with you, and show him some well-deserved love. 👏❤️ Congratulations again, Timothy! Your words touched our community this week, and we can't wait to see what you write next. Keep writing. Keep growing. Keep sharing your voice.

The Wounded Mind The wounded mind knows endless miles, It hides behind convincing smiles. It whispers lies no one can hear, Then feeds itself on doubt and fear. It wanders halls with locked-up doors, Reliving what has been before. A thousand thoughts begin to race, Yet none can find a resting place. The loudest wars are never seen, They bloom beneath a calm routine. A crowded room, a vacant stare, While silent battles fill the air. The mind remembers every scar, No matter where or who we are. It clings to words long left behind, And carves them deep inside the mind. Yet hope is patient, soft, and slow. It doesn't shout it simply grows. A single hand, a quiet friend, Can help the longest night to end. The wounded mind is not its pain. It is not every storm or rain. For even thoughts that lose their way Can find the dawn beyond the gray. So if you meet a weary soul Whose smile no longer makes them whole, Walk gently... for you'll never find A wound more hidden than the mind. By Jason Strickland

Another little task.... No right or wrong Write answers in comments Share, discuss, like etc Have fun🌞🌞 Q) 'guilt' in 6 words A) burden you must release....fly freeee