wax runs slowly from his candle
as ink flows freely from his pen
daydreams stretched out on his anvil
where each word he hammers into rhythm
with skill he’s tooling an ode of mourning
beside his fire lies a sonnet undone
paintings of prose around him adorning
with unframed verses below and above
a haiku sweet graces his table
a ballad long covers his floor
more he would add if he were able
but one wonders if there is room for more
yet still driven he labors long into the night
his blood turns to ink until morning light
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
wax runs slowly from his candle
as ink flows freely from his pen
daydreams stretched out on his anvil
where each word he hammers into rhythm
with skill he’s tooling an ode of mourning
beside his fire lies a sonnet undone
paintings of prose around him adorning
with unframed verses below and above
a haiku sweet graces his table
a ballad long covers his floor
more he would add if he were able
but one wonders if there is room for more
yet still driven he labors long into the night
his blood turns to ink until morning light
post script.
#2 for http://hellopoetry.com/poem/poetry-exercise-test-passing-grade-80/
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