I am a poet

ᴍᴏᴏɴ

I am a poet,
Though words often escape me
I drown in all the poems
That I never wrote

I talk to the moon
Sing with the birds
Try to console the rain
Whisper to the breeze,
(may they carry my words far away)

I live with thoughts unsaid
With far away dreams
There’s a galaxy inside me,
Yet I express a single star

I am a poet;
A lunatic, if you may
A fool with fancy words
A dreamer with no sleep

I romanticize my rage 

I try to make my flaws
And my agony loveable,
Rather than simply speak;

I am a madwoman.

I am a poet;
Though what I write about
Is beyond my reach
A feeling that words can’t carry

My soul has black blood
It has a desired to be spilled
In patterns and scriptus
On a sheet they call paper

I am a poet

Comments +

Comments4

  • sorenbarrett

    Moving for all poets that write from the soul. A lovely piece and a fave.

  • Kevin Hulme

    Well said. A fine Poem on the Craft of Poetry.

  • Fränz Müller

    Excellent!

  • Tristan Robert Lange

    Sylva, I think being a little mad is practically a prerequisite for poetry! 😂 After all, what perfectly sensible person willingly exposes their innermost thoughts to complete strangers and then comes back to do it again tomorrow? I wouldn't trade this peculiar calling for anything, my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦‍⬛



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