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Poet at a Loss

Poet at a Loss

Words of men
Are a blessing and curse
Masters of the pen
But a slave to the verse

Enticed by a muse
Concrete or surreal
Writing not his wants,
Only what he feels

A product of emotion
He cannot escape
Gliding through fields
Of verbal shape

Penman of the heart
And scribe of the soul
Giving freely of rhyme
Till seasons take their toll

For winter has come
Wreathed in blizzard and frost
I am isolated from verse
A poet at a loss

Please tell me what you think

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Comments


  • Victoria of Aragon
    July 2, 2008

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    Justin, it's really been far too long since I've read any of your work, but I must say, it's still as good as ever.

    You can rhyme, which... sadly, I can not. Due to this, I am now insanely jealous of your skrills. //Nodnod.//

    ANDDDD.. I can't think of anything else. I can think of a few more funny comments, but nothing serious, so I'm going to skuttle for the time being. o o;