Poet's Gold

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Poet's Gold Not always in a glass Observes from the humble heart til last Call out with his pen, his voice soft as a cool wind His lense on life, colored by history’s whim Writing becomes his eye towards the truth and Sky Always, and ever asking himself the why? A poet’s gold His diversity

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Lin Lane

Date: 5/20/2017 9:54:00 AM

Yes, I agree with Richard. The lady in the photo has the features of Eileen. A poet's gold is liquid and is found in the ink of his pen... a real treasure.

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 5/20/2017 9:22:00 AM

As I read the title I found it interesting how one could easily exchange "Poets" with "Fools". I myself am a self confessed fool! One other thing that struck me, doesn't the photo make you think of Eileen???

Anne-Marie Coreggia

Date: 5/20/2017 9:13:00 AM

This is wonderfully expressed Arthur; I love it:) Amitiés

Tim Smith

Date: 5/20/2017 7:16:00 AM

An amazing write Arthur

Darren White

Date: 5/20/2017 1:08:00 AM

I love your poem. It reminds me of a poet with pen and paper, in sepia colours, somewhere in a cold room on the top floor of a high building, earning just enough to stay alive... But never ceasing to write.