Thou art the Poetry


Thou art the Poetry that lives in me,
The Muse that fills my Heart and Soul with fire,
Passion, desire and Love: Thee dost free
My creativity and urge me higher
Than I have e’er reachéd before, Thou art
My rhythm, my rhyme, Thou art the reason
I put quill to parchment, Thou art my art,
My Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter season,
Thou art the Red blood that flows in my veins,
Thou art every single breath that I take,
Though my words tumble forth in tangled skeins,
Before Thee now this promise I shalt make,
Though my sinews weaken, though my heart aches,
I shall wait for Thee, howe’er long it takes.


Sonnet: Martin G. King © May 27, 2014
Image sourced on Google Images (all rights remain with the creator)



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