PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In a dark honky tonk, where shadows entwine,

Sat a poet of sorrow, with a soul so divine.
With a his heart full of verses, both twisted and true,
He danced with his demons, as the poets often do.

Morphine, a mistress, with whispers so sweet,
Promised him solace, and a temporary retreat.
In the arms of her comfort, he found fleeting peace,
Yet the grip of her hold never seemed to cease.

Whisky, his lover, with a fiery embrace,
Spoke of forgotten dreams, and the past’s shamefull trace.
With every rough sip, he'd laugh and he'd cry,
But deep in his heart, he felt the time slipping by.

Between Morphine and Whisky, a battle was fought,
For the soul of the poet, whose wisdom was sought.
He penned down his heartaches, his joys, and his pain,
In verses that lingered like a soft summer rain.

The townsfolk would gather to hear his many sweet songs,
Of love lost in the twilight, of rights going wrong.
As the weight of his burden grew heavy and bleak,
And the nights turned to shadows, his spirit grew weak.

One fateful evening, as the stars shone bright,
He raised up his glass to the infinite night.
With a final good by to the ghosts of his mind,
He slipped through the veil, leaving the silence behind.

Now legends are whispered of the hillbilly Shakepeare,
Who danced with his demons and admire by his peers.
Between Morphine and Whisky, he found his release,
In the echoes of the twilight, he discovered his peace.