A POET STRIPPED NAKED


When my spirit is well,
I try to write but I can't.
Only through tears
Does my canvas allow paint.

Thoughts that breathe,
Sentences that burn.
Inhaling experiences,
Exhaling in word.

In love with language,
Visions so great.
Pen & paper the developers,
Of pics my soul takes.

A poet stripped naked,
Offering you my shirt.
See deep into my pain,
And be warmed by my hurt.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem