Secret Poet (no more)

The man that moves his mind to thought

and sets to verse what he has caught,

Is a man amongst a multitude

Whose wealth of work is never viewed.

It lies, loose leafed in dusty nooks,

On higher shelves in diary books,

Until seclusion does then invite

Himself to hear himself recite,

The work he forged from thought and word,

Yet steals away lest it be heard.

He seeks not favour nor to be read

But this will speak when he is dead.

  Lie loose leaves, forget not me,

  Long forgotten in some diary,

  It may be found and you will see

  The most important parts of me. 

Reviews

[.]

Wow, this is probably my favorite poem so far. I love the lines "The man that moves his mind to thought,and sets to verse what he has caught,Is a man amongst a multitude,Whose wealth of work is never viewed." This , in my opinion, is the story of a poets life. Great job, PJ, keep up the great work:)

-Cord

[PJ]

thank you Cord - really appreciate your comments