What's On Display Poem by Shaun Cronick
What's On Display
I steeple my hands,
Then lower my head.
And clear my mind,
All thoughts to shred.
I think again,
And start anew.
As logic dictates,
An image to view.
It has a name,
And a definition.
As my poem begins,
In its composition.
Slowly but surely,
Word by word.
A message born,
Soon to be heard.
It gathers pace,
My imagination soars.
Never trapped behind,
Mindful locked doors.
I did my best,
After a long day.
As I now end,
What's on display.
A beautiful poem that depicts and conveys the wonderful birth of a poem. Yes, a true Poet just let his imagination soar, reaching the heavens above. Beautifully crafted and executed write as always.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/21/2025 5:08:31 AM # 1.0.0
Great write Shaun! Considering your constant batttle with the notorious Sandman, certainly a triumpth of the will. It's a tired but still highly creative ten from me!