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Oft Bold The Thoughts, When Pen Strikes Paper

Oft bold the thoughts, when pen strikes paper
even should ones shovel meet dark coals.
Shrouds removed, to smell new rising vapors
or challenge poets tired and resting souls!

Sought, shimmering pools of bright, clear waters
even should bare feet stay perfectly dry.
Honing in on what truly, truly matters
with deep imagination, oft we learn to fly!

With deft strokes, ink oft treasures display
even should, the hiding muse wail.
With emotions risen, word-spouts soon spray
darkest secrets others fear, fear to tell!

Oft bold the thoughts, when pen strikes paper
even should ones shovel meet dark coals.
Shrouds removed, to smell new rising vapors
or to challenge poets tired and resting souls!

Gold and white marble in great palaces rise
even should the tale turn sad and tragic.
With one stroke, ink opens up radiant skies
and therein lies Art, poetry's golden magic!

From grim and gray, ink oozes sweeter romance
even should the poet decide one dies.
What is life, if nothing was ever left to chance
the one taken, when gazing into her eyes!

Oft bold the thoughts, when pen strikes paper
even should ones shovel meet dark coals.
Shrouds removed, to smell new rising vapors
or challenge lost poets, tired and resting souls!

Waiting for beauty as in, "Venice, the Bridge of Sighs"
even should sought after results not compare.
Pen lingers, waiting for beauty of, rainbow skies
or soul's desirous depths only true love can bear!

With each new stroke, paper relishes that arrival
even should, the splash reveal darker stains.
For creativity is the rich goal not mere survival
and the feeling that lasting success attains!

Oft bold the thoughts, when pen strikes paper
even should ones shovel meet dark coals.
Shrouds removed, to smell new rising vapors
or challenge poets tired and resting souls!

As ink paints and starry eyed love takes hold
even should one decide tis failure, all is lost.
A great tragedy is born and thus many have sold
for gold, tho' poet's heart pays weeping cost!

On to the next stanza, pen cries to be set free
even should, disaster strike the reluctant poet.
Another ship waits for its long trip to black-ink seas
in heart of hearts, poetry lives, if we but grow it!

Robert J. Lindley, 10-12-2017
Rhyme, (Subject - Poets, Poetry and Life)

Note-- I did spend much, much longer on this one that any other poem previously written in the last 6 months. Hope the reader may enjoy the read and the thoughts on Life, Love, Poetry, Imagination, Messages and Black Ink staining previously clean white pages..
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