Conscious Poet
By Emmerson
Bled in ink across these pages, is me, Although not all of me you see. Selected thoughts, selected memories. Even things written, just to make me feel good. It is with words I paint for you, An amazing landscape for your minds eye to see. My thoughts on love, how it should be. A wish, a hope, a dream to be real. Pretty words of colour, left for you to feel. Is it a gift or a curse to express, Ones soul for all to see? Will you read it and feel it, In the context that it is meant to be? I am a poet of life, a little selfish maybe. For what I write, how I express, Although parts are written for you. Ultimately they are all written for me. Endeavouring for a greater understanding, Of all that makes me tick. Each day learning anew from thoughts And feelings, just hoping some of them stick. Consciously and selectively, I give my all. Unconsciously please, Don't take what's not yours. Written March 27th, 2002 © on Mar 27 2002 12:41 PM PST 10 • 0
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"Bled in ink across these pages, is me,..."