My Cup of Poetry
i sit in a Conner with my cup of poetry
a cup of passions yet unsaintly sultry
containing the juices of sorrows once so mellow
with love outflowing onto the next fellow
the nostalgia of love n hate all in a sip
yet in my cup i have no bread to dip
I shall drink till but the last drop cease
for if i don’t die, it shall bring me peace
In every sip, my veins shiver with rage
as i try to put all my feelings on this page
‘cause soon my soul shall wean with age
with eagerness to join the phantom stage
dying slowly, till with this cup i cant engage
My cup of poetry is what keeps me sane
blocking out the worlds sins and all its pain
it warms me up and blocks out the rain
and if it drains, i shall fill it again
for the world is just but me and my cup of poetry
Copyright © Maurice Lamony | Year Posted 2015
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