there's a bridge that devides the fold amidst the tops of an angry mob for sure
there's a taste of an amazing mix of melodic tones deafening in the current
there's a place where dwellers rest to take a part in the test
there's a sun beneath the moon that gives way to cadence in the late of June

through a sunset peak we have sprung a leak inside taking a little peak
through wandering eyes we can lay hold of a surprise amidst the lies
each new day there is a game to be played got it made in the shade
each new course springs true with love sheltered abve the dew

inside we often hide through the rustling hills the cheap thrills it pays the bills
hearken onto its beckoning plow sound the alarm for words to charm
come to the sea drop off all forms of negativity its in your sweet destiny
listen to the birds chirping outside on the lawn look at the lonely fawn

words can take us to each heightened place make no mistake
reflect on the good dismiss what's bad rejoice and be glad
each turn you take make no mistake its tempered with fate
our great escape going west young man my faithful friend with whom you can depend

in the morning there will be reflections sought to the extreme on the scene
we have grown with a grateful heart to impart the furtherance of all goodness
we must resist the evil doer and cling to what is good
think good thoughts of such as Goldi Locks and the tropics

words can create a lasting void to how you really feel another chance at lets make a deal
behind the squeeky wheel we can trust words to be secure as our daily bread
words can bring a smile to a lonesome child to cherish in great riches
light the inner flame of resistance by given a chance
Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)

Mario William Vitale

Mario William Vitale is a twentieth century poet. He has developed a style of free verse. Has written over one thousand poems. more…

All Mario William Vitale poems | Mario William Vitale Books

FAVORITE (3 fans)


Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Español (Spanish)
  • Esperanto (Esperanto)
  • 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Português (Portuguese)
  • Deutsch (German)
  • العربية (Arabic)
  • Français (French)
  • Русский (Russian)
  • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • 한국어 (Korean)
  • עברית (Hebrew)
  • Український (Ukrainian)
  • اردو (Urdu)
  • Magyar (Hungarian)
  • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italiano (Italian)
  • தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Türkçe (Turkish)
  • తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Čeština (Czech)
  • Polski (Polish)
  • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Românește (Romanian)
  • Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latinum (Latin)
  • Svenska (Swedish)
  • Dansk (Danish)
  • Suomi (Finnish)
  • فارسی (Persian)
  • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English (English)

Discuss this Mario William Vitale poem with the community:


Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:


"Words" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 26 Feb. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/47088/words>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

Our favorite collection of

Famous Poets


Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.