Poetic Target Practice

Poetic Target Practice
By Robert T. Davenport

In the realm of words, where emotions reside,
I embark on a journey, my poetic stride.
With pen as my weapon, I aim for the heart,
Target practice begins, a poetic work of art.

Beneath the surface, where feelings lie,
I delve into depths, where shadows cry.
My aim is to pierce, to strike with precision,
To ignite a spark, a poetic incision.

I take aim at sorrow, the weight of despair,
With words as my arrows, I shoot through the air.
I seek to unravel the knots of grief,
To offer solace, a poetic relief.

Next, I set my sights on anger's fierce flame,
To tame its fury, to extinguish its name.
With verses as bullets, I aim for release,
To transform rage into poetic peace.

Loneliness, a target that's hard to miss,
I shoot my words, aiming for its abyss.
To bridge the gap, to connect souls apart,
With poetic threads, I weave a new start.

Injustice, a foe that must be confronted,
I take aim at its core, with words undaunted.
To expose its flaws, to ignite a fire,
With poetic justice, I aim to inspire.

But amidst the targets, there lies a plea,
For love and compassion, to set us free.
With words as my arrows, I aim for the heart,
To heal, to uplift, a poetic work of art.

So, I continue my practice, my poetic endeavor,
To hit the mark, to make hearts quiver.
With each word, each line, I strive to impart,
A deep, powerful poem, straight to the heart.