A Sober Attempt

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writers are sad people.

one said one day

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there's a wound in their souls

that is hard to soothe

they have blown words

to ease the stinging pain

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in solitude,

they fill blank spaces

with fine strokes of the sea

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their calloused feet

sored from wanderings

from places they alone knew

and by journey's end

they pour all the angst

on those blank pages

they have made words bloom

by summoning rain

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and when a poem is born,

the writer smiles

and feels a little

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[HoMe] [THe LaDY BeHiND] [CiRCLe oF FRieNDS] [MY WRiTiNGS] [LiFe oF a PRoFeSSioNaL BuM] [eNDLeSS YaKiTY]

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