The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Friday, October 24, 2008

I must write

Despite judgements I sometimes get
My mind is forever clearly set
To write my thoughts with no worry
Peacefully constructed there is no hurry
As I catch a glimpse of fearless furry
To the last drop of my sweat
Rejuvenating is my bet
I surrender albeit

I win over and over with no set place
This never-ending blissful race
Of words strung gently on razor wires
Like gemstones glowing inside the fires
Priceless diamonds, rubies and sapphires
Of the greatest value are my words
As I whisper new rhymes
In daily chords

The cover of novelist been long time blown
I write for entertainment purely own
Though some think I am a fresh conscript
Living in-between this vast imagination rift
With fire I write, passion ever so swift
Pure and meaningful are my lyrics
With no attention paid
To belittling critics

Messages constructed are daily written
As I sit to write entirely smitten
Relaxed by the fire and chestnuts roasting
With another new poem so proudly boasting
And with delicious red wine for toasting
I celebrate my gift with pride
Amongst this talent so vast
With others by my side

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