Carl Fraser Poet Rhyme

Poetic Rage

The poet awakes, restless, unable to sleep
The calling beckons, though tired and weak
Feverishly struggling to make sense of the gift
Scanning the crania for precious words to sift
Ink throbs in the quill waiting to press into page
Somewhere deep in the soul emerges poetic rage
Wisdom and message collide into harmonious rhyme
Hours vanish quickly, theres no care for time
Patience rewards, a new creation is spawned
The poet is spent, a new day has dawned

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Poet Destroyer A May 14, 2014 at 11:26 PM hello Carl, WOW...I hope this means I'll be seeing a lot of you on the soup... Once it's awake- it's awake!!! I like the, Quill waiting to press into page... extreme line, and expression..Love it...Linda Carl Fraser May 15, 2014 at 6:43 AM Thanks My Friend, Its good to be around people who appreciate me, ill be in and out when i can, its good to hear from you, blessings, Carl

S.Zaynab Kamoonpuri May 10, 2014 at 3:13 PM Wow yes fabulous how u reconstruct a poet's enterprise, enterprising then! Kudos. Great to read this. Carl Fraser May 15, 2014 at 6:41 AM Than you S., i dont know your first name or i would address it , but your comments are most kind, blessings, Carl

Casarah Nance May 9, 2014 at 7:31 AM Terrific! Well said, and I have experienced such night. The poet gods seem to find the worst moments to feed our thoughts. ;) thanks for this poem, write on :) Carl Fraser May 15, 2014 at 6:39 AM Thankyou Casarah for stopping by, your comments are much appreciated., Blessings, Carl