I am no artist, who creates with paint,
Nor am I a good man, an angel or saint.
I am but a poet, a writer of prose.
Words are my tools to play and compose
I create rhymes, both dreary and quaint.
I puzzle with letters sans doubt or complaint.
But when it comes to you, I falter
When it comes to you I fail
You see, I cannot help myself
when texting you or dropping a mail
I told you how I felt, I told you twice
I told you how I want to set sail
Set sail with you, to lands unknown
Where birds and bees have never flown
Where the essence of this journey can be shown
Where eventually my mind can be blown
on how the wind on trees will moan
And where any doubt will sink like stone
You find it hard to show your heart
But it is a lot harder for me
To admit I fear with anxious glee
to lose your presence at the sea
and let what we have fall apart.
I am needy, I am greedy
I have issues like all others.
But you can hear me, you can see me
You do not ignore.
Your presence to me makes my spirit soar.
I am not Shakespeare, nor Yeats or Poe.
My words cannot rhyme or flow
like the great masters of old, but still I try
and do the best I can, but why?
In hopes of catching your attention, my dear,
In the only way I possibly could.
Because I long to see your face again.
I'd shift gears and worlds for you, I would.
The start of this poem was enough you said
But it was written for you, so instead
I continued on in hopes you would be content.
Because just like this poem, I'd love you to no end.
My words will now be silent.
I have said what I can, written what I should.
Now I hope you will forgive me
for writing against the greater good.
YOU ARE READING
Sic Parvis Magna - A Poetry collection
Poésie"Greatness from Small Beginnings" This is a collection of all the poems I've written in the past, present and will write in the future. There is no limit to what the mind creates. Nor is there a limit on Poetry.
