Wandering Minstrel
Diving deep into the depths of soul
Floating upward towards the light
Surfacing on the horizon of my mind
Words have flooded like the expanse of sky
Pouring out of me like torrential rain.
At other times I take cover in the
bunker of my mind
When as dry as a desert I draw a blank
Were words get buried in quick sand.
This is where I shut out the world and rest.
Sometimes writing with invisible ink
Like scent that evaporates leaving a heady smell
My senses following like a rivulet
filling each and every gap of my soul
Poets travelling like wandering minstrels to each
and every corner of the mind and soul.
27.11.2020.
Where do we poets go?
Sponsor-Silent One.
Copyright © Carol Mitra | Year Posted 2020
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