The Black & White Poet
100,229 poems read
destined is the death of a poet
Destined is the Death of a Poet
I don't want the poet in me
to inform me
of its retirement
My inability to define
My current state of desire
(or distaste)
is troubling me.
My inability to remove the embankment…
…that buried my spirit…
is bothering me.
Has it really become that well-founded?
Not even poetry
can leak through its cracks?
When did I establish this?
Here…
In this place…
I remember the days when-
storms had the ability to kill happiness
and happiness had the ability to birth storms
I could write about bygones and
my soul seemed as tangible as my body
There was a time when
words fell out like quick sand
but now,
every day that passes
I have come to recognize
that
not much
has been able to get through this embankment
that I have established
the foundation to this obstruction began
when a love had died….
This embankment has fulfilled its design
But I am ready to kill this hindrance
I don't want the poet in me
to inform me
of its retirement
My inability to define
My current state of desire
(or distaste)
is troubling me.
My inability to remove the embankment…
…that buried my spirit…
is bothering me.
Has it really become that well-founded?
Not even poetry
can leak through its cracks?
When did I establish this?
Here…
In this place…
I remember the days when-
storms had the ability to kill happiness
and happiness had the ability to birth storms
I could write about bygones and
my soul seemed as tangible as my body
There was a time when
words fell out like quick sand
but now,
every day that passes
I have come to recognize
that
not much
has been able to get through this embankment
that I have established
the foundation to this obstruction began
when a love had died….
This embankment has fulfilled its design
But I am ready to kill this hindrance
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destined is the death of a poet
destined is the death of a poet