*On a whim,
the idea’s began to swim.
Every word, every line,
I began to write my rhyme.
I became passionate and insain,
as I spit out my ink.
Like a fire breathing Dragon,
my poetic passions
burned from within,
waiting to burst forth
from the poet within.
Every moment I waste,
I now foresee,
a fragile quill an ink pen,
scratching the parchment
with its eagle like claws.
Soon the Dragon within me
will bleed out
from beneath my skin.
I then will write my poetry,
releasing the poetic Dragon
deep within me.*
*
© By Amanda Shelton
*
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 12:06 PM UTC
*On a whim,
the idea’s began to swim.
Every word, every line,
I began to write my rhyme.
I became passionate and insain,
as I spit out my ink.
Like a fire breathing Dragon,
my poetic passions
burned from within,
waiting to burst forth
from the poet within.
Every moment I waste,
I now foresee,
a fragile quill an ink pen,
scratching the parchment
with its eagle like claws.
Soon the Dragon within me
will bleed out
from beneath my skin.
I then will write my poetry,
releasing the poetic Dragon
deep within me.*
*
© By Amanda Shelton
*
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