Sunday, September 25, 2011

Poet's Quill

What power in these lines be

Which we call poetry

Moving through us like a silent sea

In waves of ecstasy

Or half-breaths of sweet sorrow thrill

The heart when night is still

As grief and passions spill

From a poet’s quill



  1. Mike, I'm not offended if you are being polite, but one of your previous comments sort of touched that 'sweet' spot:)


Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!