This poem is about writing poems and all that this entails.
Words inked
With no illusion of
Grandure or fame
Nor a selling
Of thought and soul
Scraps of paper
Coveted like gold
The poet
Remains nameless
Hands reaching
For the pen
Time and time again
To scribe a love
Of symbolic verse
A harmony to transcend
Past this poetic existence
Into lost caverns
Within the mind
Escaping briefly
To form prose
Stroked in
Subliminal discretion
A wonderlust
Of the scribes
Passion defined
copyright.2007AngelaThompsonScott
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
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A wonderlust
Of the scribes
Passion defined.
I think it's Wonder? and Wonder! that drives the poet to write. - David
Continue, my friend, the future is bright. Happy Thanksgiving.
Emile
Regis