The lonely scribbler is a king,
For he can conjure anything.
–
Despite the endless definitions,
Rhymesters are the true magicians.
–
Conjured words here and there,
Waiting, floating in the air.
–
Magic flowing from a pen,
May shake a writer now and then.
–
A journey along a mystic way,
With corporal notions held at bay.
–
Glimpses of an immortal world,
The magic curtain of rhyme unfurled.
–
Time to wonder, time to think,
Capturing poetry with ink.
–
Common words, their worth concealed;
See the power that they yield.
–
Lines may be loose or terse,
When breathing magic into verse.
–
Matter taken from a world external,
But based on life from time eternal.
–
Mundane truths and worldly dealings,
All wrapped up in a poet’s feelings.
–
Notions take the breath away.
Brushed aside, they tend to stay.
–
Passing judgement’s not the goal,
While looking at another’s soul.
–
Like burning embers turning cold,
As the span of day grows slowly old.
–
The nightly scribbler wears a crown,
Until his magic pen lays down.