So different life has been,
All the faces she hasn’t seen
The times she’s acted mean.
Suddenly feeling lost, as a teen;
Then in a high, on fire and keen.
The almighty poetess queen,
With tears that are silent and lean,
For no one should ever know
Of her anguish, her silly woe,
Which inspire and torment her so,
Disguised in an upbeat hello.
She yearns to yield to a verse’s flow,
As her poetry, she strives to sow,
But this world is her art’s greatest foe.
What to do then on this day?
No words left to say…
No wish to go out and play.
Thus to her distress and dismay,
On that busy month of May,
Rhymes wouldn’t come her way.
A price too high to pay.
Her inspiration in a haze,
Nothing that’ll dare and amaze,
At which to marvel and gaze…
Oh, such torturing phase.
Or could she be a lost case?
Might as well chill and laze,
Scribble a little, elate and erase,
Then give it another try,
Find solace in the sky,
Embrace life, never be shy.
Learn, lust, love and lie
Down in an ecstatic sigh…
Afterwards, kiss it all goodbye.
Go home… make words fly.
She lets humanity be her muse.
Rhymes and verses that she’ll infuse
Into our veins. You’ll share her blues,
Feel her hope and smile as you choose
A favorite piece matching your hues.
So make them beautiful and profuse.
Poetess, free yourself, set them loose.
This is the story of a wandering bard.
A writer always, no matter how hard,
Planting poetic seeds, yard after yard,
Day and night, standing guard.
Of her life, each verse is a shard.
For us to share in, enjoy or regard.
Poetry is alive, unmarred and starred.