Might it be that our creations
deep from within the womb of the bard
are the real sovereign resting places
tethered to hills in our mental yards.
the delusions we adeptly create
cushions us from woes and the grief
allowing for at least a tidbit
of life's pleasures and relief.
whereon we do dance and twirl
till our souls create the route
rocketing us thru the heavens
loitering, till the stars burn out.
4 comments:
Ah...a gateway to your poet's heart....interesting....!!!
Hugs!
Chris
I hope you are giving others the benefit of your thoughts away from Jland. I hope you are teaching in some capacity. You are a gift. C. http://journals.aol.com/gdireneoe/thedailies
You have perhaps given the exact reasoning for a writers need to write.
Oh, my! I get this. I want to keep this. I want to copy it in my journal. May I? and link it back here? This seals it: I'm putting you on my alerts. And that said after I have confessed to several others that I have too many alerts to attend to already. Bea
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