Confessions of a Poet

Confessions Of A Poet As the dark hour slays the great setting Sun earthly fires in the nether regions flame The poet's heart must see both to have fun words spit forth earnestly but not a game Slashing one's own soul to get the job done In the midst of the darkest lonely night poetry burns deeply to release its heat Poet's heart must feel all to truly write claws that gash and sharp teeth that eat Epic battle marching words into the fight Each verse sings softest melody just to him as the sky cast down its deepest blues The poet must see with a mind never dim searching heaven and hell for any clues Play with words and toss 'em out on a whim So says a drunken Muse, the envy of my Soul she that sulks and cries to beat the band Pretends winning her heart should be my goal Robert J. Lindley, 03-09-2015 note--I asked but why, but why end with that closing three verses. Got back the usual snarky reply, "just shut up and write."!