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Poem

Open Book.
.
My hasty quill does not spill ink
Like a quill often would
But part of me and my heart
And written with my blood
.
Driven by my passion to write
With deep emotion conviction and lust
Before my life is over
And I unwillingly return to dust
.
Poetry to me
Is a way of setting my soul free
My mistress my life
And my therapy
.
My fertile mind drifts off
Reaching places I’ve never been
Drawn from the fountain of the heart
And mindful lucid dreams
.
Mt enthusiasm is such
It often pains me too much
And my heart cries and breaks
For my love 
And for arts sake
. 
Here trapped on my lonely island
I bridge the gap
Between reality and fantasy
And I can become someone 
That I’d rather be
.
My imagination can take me 
To dance among the stars
Or far across the sea
And say what I believe
.
Without my words
I cannot live
And as long as the hour glass sand doesn’t run out
I have so much yet to give
. 
For I am but an open book
Naked and shameless
For anyone who wants
To take a look.
.

Peter Dome©2020.

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