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Who is the Poet within me?
Folder:
Hyacinth garden
I hope along the shore of forgotten lore.
I believe, I doubt.
The briny wet experience.
I believe I meet this woman, a beautiful woman.
She sailed the seas of the past.
Was it dreams or reality?
I see her rainbows above the waves.
Her hair is dripping into her low cut eyes.
See there as if some tears run from laughter!
Scene where.
I touch her face gently.
I kiss her lips tenderly.
Her name might as well have been Viedra.
She swims away not looking back.
I am still living by my wit good manners, sweet thoughts.
I am still dying a little bit Bad manners, Bad thoughts.
Who gives me life?
Who causes my death?
Who is the Poet within me?
I am not Dylan, not even Eliot.
They did not name me DYLAN ELIOT!
I find no soft mornings where I am.
Night again and alone again.
I feel no velvet mourning where I have gone.
Need to open my waiting eyes.
Here down cast blinded by day and night.
Wave’s crash.
Lightning flash.
One single splash.
My eyes are waiting above clouded skies.
Is it not doubt that drives us? Makes us question, ponder and think? Questions we should not dwell upon haunt us until we take action, to change.
Doubt is the life of innovation.
I wish I had time to read all of your poems right now! I've read many already. I don't believe I deserved such polite comments from someone as good as you =]. your poems are beautiful.
Thanks!
I love this poem.
A true poet.
Written nicely.
GOOD WORK.
I must say, This is certainly breath taking...
I don't think we ever really know who we are, but life goes on and we keep trying and keep living trying to find out answeres....
Man will only have the answeres when God allows us to have them and not until...
Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece...
Peace and Love...
Judy
Dylan,
This has to be one of the best pieces of yours that I have read thus far... I am not sure how I missed it??!!?? I love the simplicity of your words, yet the complexity of what you are saying. I feel your longing here, the kind of longing that will endure as long as man walks the earth. This is a feeling that we all have. This poem without doubt is timeless! In my opinion you have a calling to write. More than on this websight, and to its few privilaged viewers. You are much to talented to keep this to yourself. This kind of message could touch the world! I admire you Mr. Eliot (or what ever your name should be...) All my love!
Diva Dawn
If I had not been reading it right now, I would never have thought that a poem like this could exist! Wow! What is the typographical sign for speechlessness (out of admiration) and silence (out of respect acknowledging you as a major talent)? Whatever those signs are, I wish I could put them in right here right now!
Starward