He looks under
his eyebrows
He could write
with his eyes
closed
As his mind , Dancers
away from his body
Was it enough
for him to have
Ink
To cover paper
He writes
of wandering clouds
soft breeze tall trees
swallows in April shadows
And how , May may be
long and loud
He tells us of endless sky's
Happiness loneliness , hatefulness
he says to much to long to strong
Then he writes , the where the what the when
All the time he must go on &,on &,on
Should we order the POET'S
Tongue to be cut out
his eyes be removed
the POET to remain silent
Poetry in solitude
his words only to be illustrated
in invisible ink
Is it , possible
A POET ,
Has know longing
he will only make
displeasure his pleasure
He will explore you
to find a flawless
iceberg
clouding the silence
between the poet
and us.
Jup, that's kind of a poet ... thank you
Angel< to a poet it could be worthless or wicked thank you
his eyebrows
He could write
with his eyes
closed
As his mind , Dancers
away from his body
Was it enough
for him to have
Ink
To cover paper
He writes
of wandering clouds
soft breeze tall trees
swallows in April shadows
And how , May may be
long and loud
He tells us of endless sky's
Happiness loneliness , hatefulness
he says to much to long to strong
Then he writes , the where the what the when
All the time he must go on &,on &,on
Should we order the POET'S
Tongue to be cut out
his eyes be removed
the POET to remain silent
Poetry in solitude
his words only to be illustrated
in invisible ink
Is it , possible
A POET ,
Has know longing
he will only make
displeasure his pleasure
He will explore you
to find a flawless
iceberg
clouding the silence
between the poet
and us.
Jup, that's kind of a poet ... thank you
Angel< to a poet it could be worthless or wicked thank you