Open Book
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.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment