A Poet's Turmoil Poem by Lyrrad Drawe Oipila

They read with delight, across the paper's face,
Every letter, every word, all written with grace.
Slowly, with every turn, beholding their sight,
A little but too less, to feel the poet's plight.

To sympathize, and not to feel,
For a moment, through every word a sudden thrill,
Comprehension with the mind, not the heart,
A failure to feel the full effect of the art.

Try as they may, they'll only fail.
An art, like any other, telling an artist's tale.
Right they might think they are, still they are wrong.
Alone, carried burden, written in tuneless song.

To express, not detain, an emotion's path,
To give insight in life's cruel wrath.
But only he, who has written can understand,
Thus, being the turmoil of a poet's hand.