Searching inspiration; searching for a job
Looking long-faced before the interview, I know
However this I got to do for the peace I long
In order to write, to create, I’ll deny
Not my faith but the fate of all lies
And I will sit, at my desk before a pile
Of papers ‘rever my-mind will fly
To the land of green-o-landscapes and skies
Painted blue then black at night
“I want, I want, I want” I start to write on a paper
And all that comes to mind is always saved for later
And I’m the writer, I’m the artist, I’m a saint and I’m my muse
Finally, I found how to where to set my mind for loose
Right?
Yeah and the movie goes on for at least another month
Until it becomes dull and my job becomes the rule
Of thumb from which I measure pressure in my skull
Now I again search, crave: motivation, respect
Where do I go? I ask in my room, on my bed
From the window enters wind and I know what to do
Follow frontly adventure and hear some of blues…
*
Here they are!
About the Creator
Matt B.
He/Him
A romantic reader and an amateur writer who likes to write non-conventional stories and unusual plot lines.
I read romantic era fiction and find myself lost in the pages of Dumas' "The Count of Montecristo" and Shelley's "Frankenstein"
Comments (1)
Fantastic poem! ❤️