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The Poet's Plight (Free verse) by dougsoderstrom
Lying there naked in a puddle of blood,
Covered from head to toe,
Hidden from sight for the whole world to see,
Blow on me cold winds...... blow.
The poetâs plight is nothing to behold,
Trapped in a cell all alone,
Waiting for thoughts to turn into words,
His work will remain unknown.
Driven from within by a voice of discontent,
Harbinger of things that might have been,
Poems that pierced the heart of every soul,
Lying at the bottom of an old trash bin.
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Arithmetic Mean: 6.3333335
Weighted score: 5.3585887
Overall Rank: 3313
Posted: January 10, 2005 7:38 AM PST; Last modified: January 10, 2005 7:38 AM PST
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