I Am But A Poem Poem by Nenia Arnaiz Dulom

My writings, my poems,
My words, my chords,
All products of my deep emotions;

They come alive
Through bloody ink of pen,
That cut through every page
They sink in;

They breathe and pant
In sync with every rhythm,
Looking deliberately amiss
But sometimes precisely accurate;

Delivering all emotive notions,
I sprawl crumpled on a bin,
Or at rest on a cluttered table,
Insouciance and naked;

Yes before your eyes
I could sing and dance,
Or weep deeply if you like;

But whatever you decide,
Just think that I am
But free verse in the sheet.