The Poet lives within his word
Some erudite, and some absurd
Some meaningful, and some obscure
Some insightful, some unsure.
He sees a world of different hues
He hides himself within his muse
He sees the pictures you can't see
Unlocks perspective, sets it free.
On virgin ground his seed he'll sow
With hope his progeny will grow
To reach a youth of towering strength
Restricted, only by his length.
He'll make corrections, day and night
Until he feels he's got it right
Then he will send it on its way
And hope to publish it one day! ! !
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You explained that very well and we all live it like you've told: ^)
Oh what a poem, oh what a poet! It's well written, how it flows so smoothly from the lips! Blessings to you, Owain!
you know what patty smith wrote about this, through the words of robert mappelthorpe? we are poets because nobody sees as we do and nothing is finished until you see it. great poem owain!
So well done Owain and how wonderful it is to express our feelings no matter what they may be. Thank You
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poet writes because he must Compelled by love, oft times by lust; His stated purpose to amuse, Which oftime leaves his Muse confused.