My hand shakes gripping the quill
Shaping and warping words at will
The ink is the blood of my heart
for it is where the fire for my poems start
I cut and carve my life in rhyme
blotched on the paper trapped in time
Life Death Loss and Love
Spilling and splashing to the paper, all of the above
The heart dances as the fire rages
The quill scratches and drips as words come alive off the pages
Throwing you into the realm of my mind
You will exit leaving nothing behind
For poetry is a passion
I am not of any fashion
I merely feed the fire
That my heart will forever desire.
For every poem you read
Is what my heart is willing to bleed
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 3:48 AM UTC
My hand shakes gripping the quill
Shaping and warping words at will
The ink is the blood of my heart
for it is where the fire for my poems start
I cut and carve my life in rhyme
blotched on the paper trapped in time
Life Death Loss and Love
Spilling and splashing to the paper, all of the above
The heart dances as the fire rages
The quill scratches and drips as words come alive off the pages
Throwing you into the realm of my mind
You will exit leaving nothing behind
For poetry is a passion
I am not of any fashion
I merely feed the fire
That my heart will forever desire.
For every poem you read
Is what my heart is willing to bleed
