The Art of Poetry
As I set out to write
Slicing pieces of life
Little by little letting go
The use of my pen
Is like chisel in hand
Chipping away at my soul
I hold a sculpture knife
In which to carve out my life
Leaving my heart well exposed
The art of poetry
Is pure beauty to me
Of which this artist has no control
I paint what comes to my mind
Straying outside of the lines
It's the only kind of poetry I know
Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016
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