In a dark, silent room,
he sits at his desk,
paper and pen at hand.
He stares into space,
a place where only dreams live,
far beyond his stressed-filled world.
He writes poetry,
thoughts which enter
through the window
of his soul,
then he hides
it from others.
I too used to hide my poetry, a few years
back. As I got older I realized that you
can't care what people think or try and
please everyone. It's impossible so now
I just let it all hang out. ;) Let others
see if it's beautiful or perhaps they think
trash, doesn't matter. It's feelings that
matter. Great write!
He writes poetry,
thoughts which enter
through the window
of his soul,
then he hides
it from others.
Only he knows
the beauty of his words.
Wonderful...you have penned a gem here...I agree with you here completely...am mesmerized by your poems...cheers...keep it up...love n luck...BHUWAN!!!!
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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back. As I got older I realized that you
can't care what people think or try and
please everyone. It's impossible so now
I just let it all hang out. ;) Let others
see if it's beautiful or perhaps they think
trash, doesn't matter. It's feelings that
matter. Great write!
thoughts which enter
through the window
of his soul,
then he hides
it from others.
Only he knows
the beauty of his words.
Wonderful...you have penned a gem here...I agree with you here completely...am mesmerized by your poems...cheers...keep it up...love n luck...BHUWAN!!!!