The Artist (Applications of Alliteration)

by ianblackpoet

What weapon does an artist wield,
When warding wretched ways?
Wand’ring through the shadowed wastes,
With words amid the haze.
Always ardent and assured,
A poet stands alone.
Architect and activist,
Of artful flesh and bone.
Incited by the ignorant,
Inelegance and vice.
Intended to idyllic dreams,
Impassioned and concise.
What weapon does an artist wield,
When wisdom wanes and blurs?
The one and legion wind of change.
The weight of watchful words.

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