The Dying Poet

by Jessica Wheeler

As shadows climb and mingle with the light,
The dying poet reaches for his pen,
To catch the fleeting image of the night
And phrase a moment's beauty once again.

Some deem the poet's gift to be a curse,
An endless quest and lines of written woe;
Yet method’s 'neath the madness of his verse,
Reflections leave his mind with much to know.

And he'll not fear the darkness as it nears;
For he's been dying long before his death.
The ink that trails behind to mark his years,
Will spill his soul until that final breath.

With but a whisper left for him to give,
The dying poet leaves his words to live.

Write A Review

Recognized

#5
May
2024

Image from istockphoto.com

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.

A sonnet

The Dying Poet

by Jessica Wheeler

The FanStory Store For Writers

Your Poem On A Mug