A Poets Mess


A Poets Mess

Words flowing in syllables,
creating visual beats
A comma produces a pause,
like taking a turn on the streets
Trying to make sense,
reading these words of a poets mess…

Moonlit sky on a peaceful night
The black of space is blue tonight
Gaze upon a single star
Searching for words from afar
How can a poet describe what he sees
If he doesn’t feel the moment appear
Clouds that barely move, covers the moon
Sweep across its back, a blank consumes
Wordless, a disease of the mind
When creation is hard to find
How can a poet describe what she sees
When her heart, only feels, the tease
Fighting the void by throwing in thoughts
Jumbled, mumbled, conjugates not
A phrase that would meld to tell
The death of a poet, he fell
How can a poet describe what it sees
When it can’t, see the forest, for the trees


Ax

2 responses to “A Poets Mess”

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