A Poets Words
  

 

 

 

As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, and feeling

 

And having got exceedingly drunk today

 

I write this poem with my head reeling

 

My words shine not on this poet’s page

 

Nor can I find any words in this present age

 

To explicitly explain what I want to say

 

Because I’ve drank more than my share this day

 

This is the usual method but surely not mine

 

Tis not the regularity of my wordy design

 

My friends read my works and try to control my affairs

 

While I care not about my own domestic cares

 

The arts, at least all such as could be said

 

Are gently written today by my tremulously

 

Frail hands!

 

 

 

 


Comments:
 
aussiedee   aussiedee wrote
on 11/5/2008 6:53:31 AM
What a truly touching poem Janice....thank you for sharing this part of you with us all. I have to admit that your poem made me cry. I have someone close in my life who is currently going through this and it hurts me to see and feel his pain and confusion.

Waggy   Waggy wrote
on 5/2/2008 7:17:27 PM
You remind me alot of a friend from back home in Virginia. He drank on a regular basis, but it fueled his artistic modes. He drew and painted some amazing things. Didn't write a lot, but when he did it was pretty good stuff. Nice

Warriorprincess55
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