"Muse"
Some days I am a poet lost
In a jungle of thoughts
As I look to my muse
For the gathering of healing words like a muster of debris in outer space
And no matter how my pen
sings readiness to the ears of my blank pages
I respond with solid indifference
though not with pleasure.
I would hold my pen
In a kissing ritual with a barren sheet
and stay calm as if watching two love birds defining what Love is in cold weather.
Tired of times like this
I envisage an entirely new era
when muse will have her hands behind me.
-soulpoet-
YOU ARE READING
THE COLLECTIONS OF SOULPOET
PoetryThis actually isn't a book but a portal into the life of love, pain, regrets, joy, and other emotions of soul poet.This portal takes you to a world of poetry all written by a teenager whose life is defined by his poems. Hope when you get transported...
