Inspiration Digressing into the antipodes he wrote, As though there were a dagger at his throat. He did not know what evoked him to write, Perhaps it was the lucid night. He must utilize it all before twas gone, As inneviatble as the next day's dawn. Just like that it comes and goes, But where to no one knows. Into the next day's light he began to chase, For twas the night that he longed to embrace. Looking up at the light his eyes began to burn, For twas his soul beginning to yearn. Faster and faster he ran, Chasing blindly and lacking a plan. Without all would be lost, He must have it at all cost. Without it he would be trapped alone, In a world of which little is known. He leapt for it with a desperate gasp, Somehow he caught it in his grasp. He knew little of what he had caught, Other than was after this many men sought. It's place was here and it's time was now, He would use it, some way, somehow. Back into the antipodes he went, Following the directions his mind had sent. He ran and ran until he was out of breath, He was on the brink of death. Then he realized that the road had diminished, But that was alright, his work was finished. -anothersmoker- In an attempt to learn how clear my writting is to others, I'll let you try and interpet it before I post what I was writing about.
I enjoyed your work. As a writer my only suggestion, is to remember that not all poetry has to ryme. it is about emotion. good job
exactly. rhyming constrains you a lot, but i dont have to tell you that. its especially hard to write a rhyming poem when youre high...