THE QUIET LAND

THE POET'S POEM by BOSS ALI

*THE* *POETS* ' *POEM*

With the blood that surges in my veins,

I pray my pennings do not go in vain,

With emotions as pure as  gold,

And my feelings too raw to behold.

With the blood that rushes through my veins,

Being passed through the pipe of my bleeding pen,

Swiftly and slowly, softly and steadily will I write

With many motioning emotions and mights.

With the blood that gushes through my veins,

The light and darkness and all that remains,

Will lead  me to my heart, my main domain,

With torrent of feelings like when in pain.

Now, with the feelings I can neither explain nor retain,

I shall write and rewrite and not complain.

For so it is required

Of me, and to turn blood

into inks, I have been hired.

So, now with free freedom, I can now point my gun pen to fire!