I Dare to Confess
Tri Budhi Sastrio
There are chair, table, and flower,
They are nothing to do with power.
But when these things in the hand of a writer,
They are changed, they are embraced
By converter and they will be a power!
They are book, table, and reader.
They are nothing to do with power.
But when those things in the hand of a teacher,
They are converted, they enter the charger
And in power all of them will saunter.
All readers need books,
Like all girls need flowers.
What are the readers without books?
What are the girls without flowers?
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Nothing! Nothing! I dare to confess!
Not because I know what I should protest
But because I know the process!
But because I know the process!
(tbs-kas/2005/sda-R14122024}
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What happens if the tittle of this poem summitted to the AI Poem Generator? A beautiful-quatrain-rhyming-poem emerges. Bravo for AIPG.
In whispers of the night, I dare to confess
A secret long held, a heart's deep mess
A love so strong, it defies all rest
A passion that burns, a soul's unrest
My thoughts entwined, a web so fine
A dream so vivid, a heart of mine
A longing so deep, it pierces through
A love so true, it shines anew
In hushed tones, I dare to speak
A truth so bold, a heart so meek
A love so pure, it knows no bounds
A love so true, it drowns the grounds
My heart beats fast, my soul takes flight
In this embrace, all is right
A love so true, it shines so bright
A love so strong, it banishes the night.
