Poetry for me is life,
a set of unclipped wings,
an ounce of blood upon a page,
a melody that sings.
Each verse unveils a deeper love
that penetrates the core;
a spokesman of the universe,
so meek, so mild, so pure.
A poet’s mind glides through the skies,
abandoning his chains;
presenting truths, speaking no lies;
his words pour from his veins.
In every sparkling stanza
there is evidence of pain.
A poet hides his sorrow
in the creases of his page.
A king of prose, a queen of verse,
a ruler of description;
conveying hope and bravery,
a chalice of fine fiction.
As twilight falls and stars parade,
a poet wanders on;
conveying hope and beauty wide,
divulging secret songs.
A poet breathes his life
into the veins of the forlorn.
As night time falls, he seeks his quill
and bleeds his words till dawn.
~ © 2016 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.
Photo by Irina Dzhul (https://500px.com/irinadzul)