The Fantasy Of My Poetry Poem by N.K. Trevor

I.
Here where, I have longed to be free
Here in my nest, at the apex of my comfort tree
Here where, she meets me half-way in poetry
Here where, it's only her and me...
It is here in this big world inside my little head
Where the action of my poetry is as it is read...
The manner in which she comes to me,
Precisely as the path that I have intuitively made
And she stays with me, until the fantasy is dead

II.
Though it never really dies, as her again I will see
The sooner I am awake or the longer I sleep -
For in either way, she courts my mind peacefully...
To rest within the walls of this knightly dramaturgy
Where I am gladly sworn to her, as a soul keep
It is here, where time and time again we meet...
In green fields of vines, under the azure sky we sit
To feel the blissful visage of two hearts that beat
In two worlds apart, yet sharing a reciprocal spirit
Here we welcome ebullience and let trepidation exit

III.
I have found myself where I have longed to be…
I have found myself lost in my own poetry -
In the cumulate churn of my words; in my phantasy
In my imagination, where I am at last, free to be…
I look at myself through the mirror of my dreams
The silence in my mind and the pure words that gleam
As if they bear buoyance on a silent river downstream
To the place where - she is constantly with me'

IV.
The phantasma' in my mind is so amiable and grand
That I find a piece of graphite and canvas to steal my hand
And sketch a portrait of a young lady, holding my hand…
In a manner of words, that she will only understand
As an absolute admiration of my actions that stand bland
And time will pass and one day I will cease to write
For I shall be dead and my silent stream, will run quiet
But these words will live on and be met with delight
But to only one heart will these words, a spark ignite;
For it is there where she will be with me in the end
But here where I shall have made her my legend