Drunken Poet Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken
Drunken Poet
His glass is half empty,
or maybe half full,
but the words spill over the rim.
He staggers through sentences,
stumbles over metaphors,
pours another thought
before the night swallows him whole.
The moon winks,
the paper listens patiently,
ink like spilled wine on faded dreams.
Tomorrow he will be silent,
but tonight he speaks in storms,
making the world sway
to the rhythm of his intoxication.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 12:48:23 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
