the pen feels lighter, I scribe with a fools hand I am a writer, or at least I think I am, or try to be, I am filled with words, within me punctuation marks and apostrophes, an emotional amputee, pages stained with black coffee and green tea
an invisible witness in my poetic persistence which my spirituality has given me I have gathered enemies to feast on this wounded heart that ignites a spark, I am on common ground with this dying art, my soul reaches beyond me
I dance above the flames yet to feel the rain Gods fingertips have promised me a love of both fathers I have failed to gain yet I carry their name like untouched memories
Fantastic poem, loved every line but the last two stanzas are my favorite part. I can feel the feelings so nicely portrayed in this poem. "I digress poetically" what a awesome way to end a poem.
gonna borrow this some time...very well metaphoricaly put.."I have gathered enemies
to feast on this wounded heart
that ignites the spark
I am on common ground
with this dying art
my soul reaching beyond me
Love of a father is difficult to define...if the father were more than a sperm donor..or dictatorial retalitory b*****d then perhaps there would be blame to place..but not on you...we dont earn love ..it is a quality that is given freely ..it is never earned or measured....so if thesed definitions fail the test of the realtionships..perhaps you have missed nothing.. respect here you have as a writer..nonethe less.
This is quite deep as poetry goes. I love the first verse and how it's written.
"I scribe with a fool's hand"
is my favorite line. As they say, all writer's are fools for doing what they do. That they'll never get anywhere, but I do believe we will prove them wrong.