~The Poet’s Poet~
Poetry, makes things happen?
Still in its written form, survives.
This days “madness” now begins
As pen is poised.
As quickly as wind blew out a cloud
He wrote, wrote loudly.
Away from the maddening crowd
He, lead a gentle life.
Delving at times into his darker musings
Not always is there eloquence and beauty
The darkness at times leaves him breathless.
Great feeling though to be utterly consumed.
Thus he wrote.
Walking through the woods
In the music of wind and rain
Strange and beautiful song.
Rhythm and musical rhyme
Disturbed by a lightening flash
The leaden echo of the woods.
As clouds parted and sun peeped through
He sat beneath an aged birch tree, book in hand
Dwelling on Mother Nature and Father Time.
(c) Chris Black. January 2019