The Poet


The Poet's life is very strange.
Crafting words onto an empty page.

He lives and breathes the ink he spills.
As pen hits page the world becomes very still.

The Poet's life is very strange.
Crafting words onto an empty page.

He works so hard to bring his words to life.
He seems so calm; surrounded by chaos and strife.

The Poet's life is very strange.
Crafting words onto an empty page.

Though the end draws near, still he writes.
The Poet explains,"I just want to make my wrongs, right"

The Poet's life is very strange.
Crafting words onto an empty page,
Until his life is through.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem