Just bemeath chosen words And rewrites, There clamours a poem raw And true, Free of likes and critique, Above bandwagon scociety, There a poet can believe in The art of the experience:
I am alive between each word, The hand on fire As sudden urges froze me In the actiin of my words To jot them down, What captures my life like The inspired word, And the need to capture a moment On paper, Where I was is now instilled Like the metaphor of life, And I am one with the unspoken, As i have stopped and Undone. Words pause me, Propel me, And I freeze in the flow Where life happend And i stop all things To write it down stuck Between the stanzas. The poet can write life, Rarely does the experience Saturate the time of a writer.