When Poetry…
When poetry blossoms, I am a painter
When poetry crawls, I am dirt
When it dies, I am a tomb
When it entertains, I am a king
When poetry saddens hearts, I am a piece of rag
When poetry dances, I am a floor
When it rains, I am a sponge
When it blows, I am open spaces
When poetry counsels, I am wise
When it irritates, I am a revolutionary
When poetry talks love, I am the magnetic force joining lips
When it cries, I am a mournful mouthpiece
When poetry dies, I am a happy tomb
For it is my master, and I its forever slave.
By Heandel Noel
Written in feb-2009
AUDIO BY WELDY M-G NOEL & AGNES LARAQUE
"Qu'a-t-il fait?" (What has Christ done?)
This text will be replaced by the flash music player.