The Poet
12-12-04
The poet sits ready to write without a plan, words flying threw his brain down his arm and to his hand,
into the pen and out on the paper,his only fear is the impulses and his imagination will taper,
on a good night he empties his head like the never ending rain, letters and words showering down and energizes him again,
the feelings that have been unlocked and thrown before him where he can finally see, a true release from his soul and self worth and a feeling of true glee,
Only a fellow poet and writer can know this emotion that is unleashed, its embedded inside and just cant be teached,
like a river flowing his pen has created endless waves as it streams down the paper wonderful words at play.