It comes into my mind like a breeze.
It can torment me and sometimes tease.
No rest will I know until I let go,
Then my pen takes control as a new poem I enrol
When it comes to life before my eyes
I am glad,
For it then, I realise
I'm not clever or wise
Just inspired to rise
Up my pen
Set it down on a book
Write what on my mind
Then I take a look.
Well it may be mad or it may be sad
It may be good or it may be bad
Well it may not ring a melodious chimes
It may not rhyme quiet on time
But it all mine
Silence is golden for we need the peace
The inner peace that comes with quietness
We can think, we can feel, we can be ourselves
The writers den of creative
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem