What is my desire
for Pan's ancient lyre
where would I him find
a musical mind
being realistic
I'm going ballistic
to not be fulfilled.
Yet strongwilled
with an imagery
sans affinity
for other than truth
forsworn is my sooth
except the heart's notes
applauding wild oats
then the true real world
once come dis/unfurled
but still I plot on
I shall not be done
until the poem ends
my most trusted friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment