I Write

The humming wind is a melody

The drumming rain its choir

The rustling leaves a remedy

Of what creativity will require

The rain itself is inspiration

To write of worldly sorrows

The parting sky's a reminder

Of hope brought by tomorrow

The rolling waves talk of wonders

Only muffled in its fall

Against the rocky, sandy shore

Silenced by heaven's call

Who would write and tell of this

If not I who sees and marvels?

I dare not miss to share a bliss

Of beauty amidst the quarrel

I feel the sadness of the night

And pure hatred of the sun

A hundred judging eyes alike

Look to me opposed to none

I hear many voices cry out to me

For their stories to be written

My conscience clears as tears fall down

My  lips are sore and bitten

I listen to what the wind tells me

And jot down every word

I fear they are stories that come and go

With one chance to be remembered

Can I be blamed to feel compassion

And sorrow as anyone can feel?

An emotion surpasses the naked eye

And softens any heart of steel

The weather's too fine for me to turn

From the page upon the floor

A pair of pen and pencil sit

Beside the open door

The world's too big, and time too old

For me not to wonder

If a thousand million stories born

Are dwelling in a corner

Like love as such an easy prey 

As it is a vicious predator

And hate a common alibi

For hearts to break whenever

A right to feel much pain and love

Is a freedom made for all

A word can suffice a muttered thought

Any wonder one recalls

What is the purpose of seeing and feeling 

If we are not to impart to others?

The stories that catch a writer's eye

Are meant to be shared with brothers

I can turn a feeling into poetry

A memorable, sullen phrase

As any would care to put to words

The loveliness of happy days

But,

One does not always feel the urge

Unless he sees what none can see

Often found in silence of the deadly night

Or bitter days of melancholy

Yes,

I say loneliness is a pleasing friend

For the inward eye, he opens

To things unnoticed, things unsought

Mends a thousand words unbroken

I see inspiration as an excuse

For loneliness sublime

With the absence of human comfort

I chase words in endless rhyme

Truly,

I write in my loneliness

In my joy and in grief

As I drown in my own world

Words are my relief

8-22-17