I am not a poet
But a linguistic Beachcomber
Scouring the pleated sandy shores
For whatever grimy grains of meaning
That glint from the minute corners
Of my wandering mind
Here and there
I pick up phrases and expressions
Like delicate crafted driftwood
That was throwing from the ocean
Of human language
And runs down my feet
From the English Channel
And the great lakes of thought
I take these words and find a home
In my mind, and try to craft them
To communicate my heart and soul
I do not hunt of poems
But forge for words that need homes
Sometimes it rhymes and sometimes they chime
But in the end these words are mine
And they will be with me
Until the day I die
A well penned poetic expression. Truly fantastic...10+++
The Title has unlocked the secret: I cite your last stanza: Sometimes it rhymes and sometimes they chime But in the end these words are mine And they will be with me Until the day I die.
Ah! The poet is ending his scintillating poem. Once again thank you so much for sharing, your poet friend Sylvia Frances Chan
A great knowledgeable person once said, ' I have just collected a pebble from the great shore of knowledge'. A poet is never satisfied with what he creates but he satisfies his audience beyond his level of expectation. I profusely admire this humble poem.
Very fine confessional work where feelings and personal ideas delve deep and communicate beautifully who you are and what you feel.
But you are a very good poet. A poet is a down to the earth! Liked the humble expression, 'Here and there I pick up phrases and expressions like delicate crafted driftwood'...Top score.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great write, great thoughts, these words will be immortal, this poem will be immortal poem and the poet remains immortal. Fantastically worded.