Poetry in motion
Poetry in motion
My poems are the mirrors to my soul
Take a look and tell me what you see
They are tales told in words I can not speak
They unleash what’s locked inside of me
Prisoners of my own pride
Slaves suppressed by inner demons
Fears, hopes, worries and desires
They find freedom as they walk on paper
They find peace as the ink runs dry
As for the poet
Is he doomed
To stay behind the glass
For all times…
My poems are the mirrors to my soul
Take a look and tell me what you see
They are tales told in words I can not speak
They unleash what’s locked inside of me
Prisoners of my own pride
Slaves suppressed by inner demons
Fears, hopes, worries and desires
They find freedom as they walk on paper
They find peace as the ink runs dry
As for the poet
Is he doomed
To stay behind the glass
For all times…
Reacties op dit gedicht
| River Insect: | Zaterdag, oktober 25, 2003 23:40 |
| Mooi, mooi!! 'They find freedom as they walk on paper They find peace as the ink runs dry...' sprookje! En zo herkenbaar :) |
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