An acquaintance met you at Carrickbrack Road,
Laughs were heard along Dublin Square
Prancing among the manicured and symmetrical gardens.
Selling your first prose for three Euros.
Whilst seeing, many after you-
Make profits.
You were told by every lord and lady:
Auld Lang Syne
Making a living off the kind-hearted baker's
Scrumptious, delectable, delicious;
Scones and porter cakes.
Free of charge for,
The aspiring yet broke poet-you.
Just then, while you were struggling
-To make ends meet,
On a dark, winter's morning.
The Dauphin chanced across your work.
He gave you a thousand Euros,
For your single prose.
The kind, merciful Dauphin,
Made you the scribe of the Court.
The lord and ladies' murmurs were true then.
Auld Lang Syne.
Times long past.
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Poetry from Within (a collection)
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, you-the reader will be able to dwell through the inner workings of my mind and soul. Poetry to me is an art form that has to be appreciated no matter how brutal it can get sometimes. In this collection, I will make you...
