INSPIRATION

INSPIRATION

(M. R. Robare)

Words bleed onto to paper

From wounds torn in my mind

Black on white read scarlet

My poems pain defined

My pen is like a razor

Lancing my despair

Revealing all my secret truths

That spoken words won’t dare

All I wanted was someone

To love me for myself

To see beyond the man outside

The travesty of wealth

I can not right for fortune

Nor well enough for fame

I write to save my sanity

My words reveal my shame

I cannot seek out riches

Sell my soul for gold

All I have of any worth

Has already been sold

Others read my rhyming lines

And think my writing grand

They never see beyond the words

To the bloodstains on their hands

Each word is torn out screaming

From some place deep inside

My poems have no mercy

For the things I’d rather hide

I can write of many things

I could never say out loud

The times I hurt and want to weep

Lost times when I was proud

I am no more a hero

Nor even a success

I’m just a faded shadow

And sometimes even less

So I bleed words onto paper

And speak how I have failed

Black on white read scarlet

From wounds I have unveiled

Yes, I purge my pain in writing

But no one ever sees

The blood upon my paper

Of my mediocrity

Another great poem by another great poet.  He really captures exactly how the amature poet feels.... speaking as an amature poet myself.  When I was younger the words would haunt me as I slept.  I always kept a pen and paper beside the bed so I could write whenever the urge struck.  Now that I am a little older other things haunt me.  Work, The kids, Marriage.  There is little room for poems and songs to flutter in at will.  It requires more effort these days.  But in those younger days it was like I wasn't even writing them.... I was just the pen and my pain.... the inspiration.