The Lonely Poet
Age Rating: 7 +
Oh, lonely poet in the night,
Seated by your candle light.
Thinking thoughts of grand escape
Warm sandy beaches, a magician's cape.
Blank sheet in front, pen at ready
Eyes grow misty, hand now unsteady.
The vision seen, the thought revealed
Catch it quickly, lest be concealed.
Gone once again, on fleeting cloud,
A thought of worth so truly proud.
Softly shimmering and almost seen
Proud feathered bird, wants to preen.
One more time, yet once again,
His touch as soft as whistling wren.
Unsteady hand, by candle's flicker
The vision gone, so much quicker.
A silent, quiet tear he sheds,
A poet's moment which he dreads.
All thoughts gone, canvas blank
From their duties, his words shrank.
Yet once again, with pen as brush
A magick painting to make you hush.
Inspired now, with vision clear
Brush to canvas, he shows no fear.
See you now, his first stroke,
But hid again behind a cloak.
Another tear or two he feels
Before his Muse he kneels.
He prays to thee, please one more,
Ere life be gone, leave in store
A final treasure, seen so grand
By those knocking at poet's stand.
Still once again, he must try
Ere goodly life does fly
Oh, lonely poet in the night
Seated by your candle light.
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I can relate to this lonely poet! hehehe.
It has been a long time, my friend. I see you still have the skill you brought to the table... I wish I had half the aptitude you have for poetry. What you have said about writer's block is true: the emotion that goes into writing a poem is palpable, and as a three-time poet, I can testify to that. In a manner of speaking, being a poet is a lonely pastime/occupation, with a sort of isolation from the outside world and a struggle to find the right words to put on paper and the right mood to write said poem. The atmosphere is captured and described well throughout the work: I never imagined that writing a poem required such an expenditure of effort.
As for the technical matters, I see no mistakes to be fixed. Grammar, rhythm, etc. is all well-done. You have shown the struggle of aspiring poets the world over; you have shown it in the sense of a live battle covered on CNN. All in all, another solid poem from a masterful writer. Keep up the good work!
This is really nice. I times feel so loney when writing poems becaue they are always so depressing.
The very first stanza described me as a teen, writing late at night by candlelight, dreaming of the shore of Lake Michigan, imagining the rising sun peeking over the horizon at the water's edge! Oh, the memories....!
Like those before me have already said, this is us, each and every one of us, struggling to find the right word. I really like this piece, the subject, the rhyme scheme. Thank you for this one!
Richard Reed Jr
Beautiful rhythm, beautiful rhyme. The struggle of the artist depicted in your piece is very authentic. I struggle for just a few good words in every piece.
I'm sure most of us can relate heartily to this poem.
Keep going, your muse is far from silence.
A post to time, as pages lay before us in form and shape. Mental images sing the platitude of masters crying for the fates to come and ease the pain of written words. Artist such as we are cry in black of sky for answers to the pain we see and report. It is the human torch that burns bright for the common man, one does not have to speak Greek to feel reality, only understand the masters hand at work.... Milton forced his daughters to learn Greek so he could be reveler in the sound..Great write