A Poet's Day

In early morning,
a poet writes.
One with the dawning.

While the morning sun
lights up the land,
all earth wakes up yawning.

And as the sun
climbs the sky,
poems live in the poet's eye.

Daylight is diminishing.
Poets are finishing.
Endings come and the day is done.

But still we wake up 
many nights, 
as the muse turns on
and off our lights.

Thoughts come and go
inside our heads.
And we're still not ready
for sleep and bed.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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Buhain-Baello Avatar
May 23, 2015 at 3:37 AM
Superb write on what most poets go through day by day (and night) and how persistent the muse can be in the most unholy hours. Very profound, exact and wonderful portrait, enjoyed reading it.
Gifford Avatar
May 23, 2015 at 7:18 AM
Thank you, Cynthia, I can see you identify with this poem. But no matter the hours, day or night, I welcome the muse. And pray he never forgets my address! Now I'm going to go and read another one of yours.
Pinet Avatar
May 12, 2015 at 2:59 PM
Your wondering thoughts encompass the soul of a poet and bring to life the experience for others to enjoy. Emile.
Gifford Avatar
May 12, 2015 at 4:45 PM
Thank you, Emile, for reading my poem and for your comments about a poet's life. A life you recognize as your own! ..Darlene
Allison Avatar
April 16, 2015 at 7:43 PM
Oh how i can relate to this especially when i first started writing and would get up in the wee small hours when inspiration hit lol:-) hugs Jan xx 7 xx
Gifford Avatar
April 16, 2015 at 8:21 PM
Thanks, Jan. I had a feeling I wasn't the only one!
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