Poetry: THE BURDEN OF A POET

A poet is the son of the road
A poet is a Denizen of the forest
A poet is the bird of the air
A poet is a fish of the sea

The poet hears internal rumblings
He feels the blood that throbs
Even the air is alive
Ominous voices rise and fade in the bustling mind of a poet
For the poet sees beyond the face
Penetrating into the cellar of the soul,

Marching with poems
I wandered far from home
I caressed the beast of distant capped hills,
I drank water from muddy streams

It is right to get the Essence
To feel the core,the bottom
After removing the layers

I am folding the curses
Counting them one by one
Putting them in long lines

So With these poems
Fulled with words of pain
Made with phrases of disaster
I write stanzas of suffering.
But i remembered that an angry poet can over state his case
So I don't think of the burdens in order to impress my audience.

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