Poet

Noon through night he sits alone

In his house of mud and stone

With nothing but his thoughts for company.

 

Yet he is happy in his world

Left alone to work his pen

Knowing that stumbling he will rise.

 

Smile in sunlight, sleep in moonlight

Write words absolute, brandy not dilute

From blank page, blank gaze, writes unrestrained.

(c) Chris Black. November 2018

#Poetry #amwriting #soundcloud

~The Poet’s Poet~

Hear a spoken word version @https://www.soundcloud.com/the-poets-poet-1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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