PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

high white clouds ride the sky

     beneath bright arching blue

bitter cold wind blowing through

     to my flesh and cloth to thin

silence echoes in wondering mind

     seeking fleeing thoughts lost within

rustling foots falls dimly are heard

     of all the things that I seek

of armies clad in armor bright

     crashing arms of battles fought

sounding loud across the land

     that cannot be hidden from my sight

and my thoughts are not like these

     bright point shining in the sun

crashing sounds loudly heard

     so of them I might easily find

Muses burst from heavens above

     in flowing robes of colors bright

of long tresses blowing in the wind

     eyes so bright shining in the sun

sound of pipes and flute is heard

     music that the gods might play

to mighty for mere ear of man

     that he might clearly then transcribe

words that poets may never write

     music that musicians can never play

plays never performed on stage

     offered freely to those who try

as I sit at mountains foot

     wishing to climb to its mighty heights

that the art of the gods I might find

     some how to use it in my art

too weak is my mere mortal flesh

     eyes are limited by human thoughts

my strength is not to climb the heights

     and have the gifts the gods to give

with quill of feather and pot of ink

     scribbling on parchment old

writing words I do not know

     speaking of things not understood

soft my moans of pain take flight

     carried upon the cold wind

faded by the bright piercing light

     loss to all and never heard

to my flesh the deed to do

     word of Muse lost in my mind

art of God's not comprehended

     by flesh of man in sunlight bright

still I wonder and I try

     to find the words that I write

that mortals might still find right

     before I go into the night