Poets only write when they're emo
Find me a poet
Who says otherwise
And I shall denounce him as a liar
on the spot
Mood makes for great revelations
The higher the peaks,
the harder the falls
Whatever the emotional wave be
When the soul is close to the fire,
then the words burn to be released.
The ink flows madly
When chasing love,
or mending hate
When jealousy eats like acid or envy flashes her liquid green eyes
How easily it all pours forth.
Pushing your limits
hours sleepless
the emotional gates opened
You pillage and plunder
rummaging through the depths of
your memories
your spirit
your loves and your losses
every fiber of your being
For the words
to shout
to rhyme
to curse
to infuse your soul into
so that any reader that stumbles upon your aftermath
can recognize, relate and commend
100 percent.
When the waters are calm
our lives unstressed
Who writes?
Tepid, lukewarm, apathetic, indifferent
The days when one foot in front of the other
Leads to writing paths dull and dry
The calm before the storm
of a poet's fury.
Moments of sanity, true
and yet.....
Poets only write when they're emo
Find me a poet
Who says otherwise
And I shall shake his hand
possibly envy him
But I won't read his work.
Tag Archives: muse
Fount
I used to be a fount
A source from which flowed the finest of prose
A never-ending flow of vivid imagery
Used to be
Lately
My spring has been the quiet drip-drip-drip of a well running dry
Why?
Has my pen lost its edge
This well-springed source seemingly has been sprung
As if someone tapped in and pulled it all in another direction.
Dimension? Causality?
What happened to the inner poet within me?
