Runaway Poet

a poet without readers

I am the poet without readers,

my eyes catch snowflakes in the clouds,

my fingers tremble on the curtains

of a dimmed window closing blinds.

 

Staying awake, gazing at stars,

my rebel dreams vanish away,

old songs are stifled in my ears

where rhymes can’t find their proper pairs.

 

Now my embroidered lace is tinted

like pages that were never turned,

the print shaping my verse is rusty,

I ride a night train in a whirl.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Poetry is gifts people give to other people. I believe when we read another Poet. Old or new. We allow the poetry to breath life and journey. No easy life for a Poet or writer. I have been writing for 40 years and I feel alone with my words sometime. I like your thoughts and the description in this poem. A writer must learn pleasure, pain and write with a honest pen. Maybe they can teach or save another? Thank you for the thoughts provoking poetry.
Coyote

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Thanks for your good thoughts about Poets and poetry.

[Kerri Hart]

absoulutely beautiful, i loved it "Now my embroidered lace is tinted, like pages that were never turned" BRILLIANT!!!!!!!!!
it was amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

I am so happy you liked. Thanks!

[Kerri Hart]

no prob

[Skye]

I can relate, most definitely.

"Old songs are stifled in my ears were rhymes can't find their proper pairs."

I'm always running phrases and words through my head, trying to find something that fits together. Beautiful poem, I adore it.

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

As usual you are too kind, Skye. Many thanks. I am happy you liked my poem.

[Marie]

Sad situation when a poet can't find readers...

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Maybe it is sad, maybe not, we must keep an eye on the bright side of life. Other things are more tragic, a poet without readers it is less than a clown that is all. But in this world there is justice and injustice, pleasure and pain, freedom and torture and so on. And also a sky above us.