If a Poet, I Found I Could Never Be

If A Poet, I Found I Could Never Be If a poet, found myself not to be, would vivid colors lose their awesome splash. Could life race ever on and live for me or my soul die, rhymes in my head then crash? If invading words I never dared loose, stayed hidden within this lonesome, old cave. Would I find world's mysteries more abstruse, spirit thus devoid of writing I crave? If words no longer soothed this needing soul, could depths of love in verse for me exist. If my life were lived as an empty scroll shall it fade as Autumn morn's foggy mist? If a true poet, could I never be, this sad heart would be a dead and dried sea. Robert J. Lindley, 4-09-2016 Poem Syllable Counter Results Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 Total # Syllables: 140 Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines) Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: Total # Words: 114 Note: Thanks Richard Lamoreux, your thoughtful comment on my new poem, posted this morn , "With Calm Repose I Ponder Earth And Sky", inspired me to write another poem (the above one) this morn......