Every Poet In You Quenches A Fire
It was quite a time|
when with my mind you used to rhyme
and in the tune of my heart you sign.
That time was quite long
when I thought the words to me belong
and I could compose a million song.
It was such a feel!
to bare my soul to words with great zeal
put my Self in words, nothing to conceal.
A thrill beyond words!
when you believe you can capture worlds
and raise the sharpest of them as swords.
You stand on your own empire
as every poet in you quenches a fire
and for avid readers, a pleasure not to expire.
Dare I now raise my pen?
till a voice grumbles into my den!
do I have to ride those paths again?
Dare I, the very words blame?
not to have met the poet's flame!
or, the rhymist having a solo aim
shaping verses into a frame
and their intense fire tame!
The words when denied their vent
an ink of a common bent
a rose of a predictable scent
a music of no content
a love of no intent.
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