Blog Post About This Poem – Read This Before Reading This Poem.
The empty sheets so pale yet so pure looked,
Ah’ no metaphor can bring the heart of a poet,
To a paper nor could any singer could sing,
His pain, as his imagination across the universe spread.
From darkness to blankness and to black and white,
Oh’ “every image carries a thousand words” they say,
Every verse of a poet sprouts a thousand images in minds,
Of readers who imagines and completes the poetry.
Some writers to artificial imagery fall,
Oh’ intoxicated minds they lose reality,
Some fall for addiction to fame and fortune,
Ah’ falling life through fingers they can’t control.
Then there are those who with emotions play,
Oh’ not any addiction or artificial imagery they seek,
Through reality of space and time they move and write,
Life in its essence, gladness they take from a bit of love.
Romance many write as romance they do,
When balance of reality and emotions in timelines fit,
Ah’ a writer of romance or a lover who is loved.
Oh’ what he should be becomes a terrible dilemma.
Fell back then looked ahead, then looked deeper,
Ah’ those eyes, those lips, the masquerading make up,
That smile, those little frowning, the anger, the gladness,
Ah’ always will be a lover who at times may write his love.
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