The Poet

[Insanitytea]

THE POET
A Painting’s not the poet’s game
A landscape set inside a frame
A brush he holds not but a quill
A pen, a pencil standing still
He ponders for a moment when
His mind begin to work again
The poet’s thoughts are coming back
The night moves on, so very black
The pen it flicks across the page
A pace so quick one cannot gauge
His mind’s made up the path is clear
He’ll write it down, the end is near
Insanity, it’s on his face
A twisted smile, hair out of place
Inspiration has its toll
The suddenness can change its role
A poet writes on what’s around
Describes the every single sound
A painting’s not the poet’s game
A landscape set inside a frame.

Nathan J Lamoureux

Attachments:

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I just put this through google translate, for shits and giggles. here you go, enjoy:

Photography poet not a game
Landscape in the region as a whole
This is not the brush spring
Pens, pencils, located on the site
I stood up again
Your heart begins to function again
The poet returned to the idea,
The night is very dark, but coming
Handle film for the whole page
Paes is unable to guess very quickly
His mind was clear path
You will write that the end is near
Madness in the face
A wry smile, the hair on the Site
The inspiration of his own
My role will likely not be abrupt changes
What has been done about writing about the poet
Description of each sound
Photography poet not a game
The horizontal orientation of the legs.