I was told i am a poet
this has happend to us all
we smile and laugh...a little
then wonder could it be true...
are they just being kind
and what will I do
is this a gift.. is it mine
will those words continue to fall from my mind
finding their way on paper and then into your heart
to be held so dearly
that you might remember
one line or two is that what a poet intends to do
my joy is in finding the words that i feel
A poet i am not for these word i do steal
They are stolen in all of the words i have heard and have read
from the stories you told me from this life i have lead
they fall from my mind and i do not know where they came
i wonder and think are they deep in my brain
or hidden by a body which shows only, struggle
then there is joy in my heart i have realeased those feelings onto this page
a few moment and i feel like a sage. these dream that we have they come to our mind
from the eather, the cosmos, from the begining of time
first draft
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem