A bird never has fame
Till his feathers fly on royalties hat
A poet never famous
Till his words spilt
From kingly lips
What has a bird
Wings of flight, he need not fame
And a poet's domain
Is his own spirit, never whispers his name
To be a poet, is to dreams
All things sane, make them never the same
And all insanity
He writes dark traces, his only sword
He'll taste of love and all its colors
Spirit that seeks mythic dreams;
never to be the same;
lost in some adventure, a true wanderer
A poet is a poet, is a poet;
creature of unknown mystique
Seeing,tasting and feeling,
through a sentient prism soul
A contest entry
- Read this article and write a poem. by ecrivain01.
650 points, ended June 14, 2008, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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"He tastes of love and all it's colors." And yes the poet is more alive in sensations than the more mundane spirits.Beautiful and exquisitely crafted verse Poet!Vibrant and boosting a plithera of descriptive facets of a poetic persona.
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That's a good take on this question. Well expressed and descriptive of lots of things a poet does.
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I believe this writedescribes a poets soul very well,
it is perfect
EXQUISITE INFACT!
God bless...
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I'm afraid you need to do some work ...
on this. You have over a week to do it in.
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