The Poet

The Poet grabs up his pen and pad he needs fresh air

he gotta get out of the house.

He hit the woods without a care he needs to get his creative juices

flowing, he sits on a log looks and drinks in all of the beauty

knowing if someone painted it it would be a master piece

He gets in touch with his inter feeling getting everything of his chest

theirs nothing he would rather be doing then writing.

He know he only wants to change the world for the better

bring world peace and love.

as the sun starting to set he must get home

before he gets caught in the haunted woods



I love my guitar, poetry, reading, writing, living life on the edge, Don't worry their no strangers here just strange people, Be sure to let me know you stop bye and let your hair down. Grab some coffee and hope you enjoy.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s