His Name Is Poe

His name is Poe. He would be the first to say; I Told You So!
’twas, it was , it ever could be, it is, as is.

It swirls, it begins, as easy as sinning
the taste can be savoured simply by an image
blank is this parchment, a piece of scrap, with which to write
the edges frayed, as the ink nears, it fears for its life
looking for that stamp, a period, that would seal
the fate of a story, about to unfold
the end is near, just a few more strokes
letters getting smaller, to guarantee its survival
approaching the edge, with a vast horizon
nothing but light, it was all white
more flowing ink glides, bottom of the page
caressing the papers razor line
with these final words of mine

ink may stop flowing, paper left lonely
sound mind and heart will never stop feeling
from the playfulness of a youthful spring, long gone
or the serenity of watching a setting sun
lay, it’s glow as we grow old
the last four words, saved for the corner
… turn the page over

I’ve embraced poetry, so much so
That I call my bedroom a chamber
The galley is were I eat because I dream of ships
Staring at stars, lining a course
Sipping on rum. like a pirate does
With a hit of espresso, this be sure
Something about a caffeine rush
Is like having sex that froths a creamy blush
A poet thinks of suicide, homicide, genocide
A flower growing from a bud
Knowing its end is but a season away
Summer heat and ice cream treats
Tasty sugary sweet
Crackling fires, burning leaves
Autumns colours drift up in smoke
Poems will be written in winter
Beneath a blanket of white snow
A cycle that will return again and again
I wonder
How many more pages will there be
To turn over


3 thoughts on “His Name Is Poe

  1. “, as the ink nears, it fears for its life” wow. I can imagine that! Poe was quite the fellow and you have written a brilliant poetic tribute to him. I love the last lines. They are so Poe!

      1. You’re welcome πŸ™‚ You are an amazing poet. I apologize if I haven’t said that today because it’s true. Only you could take a deep dive into Poe’s mind and capture his thought processes in a poem. Take a bow! Take 3!

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