Words flow from mind to hand
Emotions not known to my being
A vessel for lost souls
Each pressing my phrases
Such tragedy must be known
Empathy throughout the ages
Shattered lives
Broken dreams
Darkness and despair
I know them not but deep within
I know that they are there
Guiding me, pushing me on
Whispers that stir my song
And me the loyal scribe
Capturing it all before its gone
Indeed we do not so much write poetry as capture the drops that bleed from the heart and press them between the pages of history.
As beautiful an expression of the nature of poetry and poets as I have every seen.
Well written Michael.(he says in blatant understatement).
DJ
Reviewed by Vesna Perkovic (Reader)
Reviewed on July 5, 2003
Ah..yes..my dear Michael..NOW I understand..YOU are ONLY the scribe who captures the thoughts whirling and burling around you..hmmm..PHEW!!! Just for a moment there I thought you were lost....
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
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Like deepest love that bleeds upon the pages of the bleeding heart!!
Soul touching thoughts here!!
Love Tinka
As beautiful an expression of the nature of poetry and poets as I have every seen.
Well written Michael.(he says in blatant understatement).
DJ
{{HUGS}}
Vesna
In Spirit,
Bear
o, this brings me to tears
so sad, heartwrending...yet, strangely beautiful
(((HUGS))) and love,
karla. :(
Leland