Poet’s Corner


As days are drawn into night, blinded by its warmth
Sits there, untamed, our hunger for creation and magic
The old words, unforgiving and cold, to provide
All what we have, at our disposal to surrender
To this mind, the mutiny inside, outside its effect
For some it’s the questions, for some the quest
For some it’s the unknown, for some it’s the known
Our belongings, the paper and ink, the only possession
Transposed and fabricated, from life what it is
In fusion they shine, the old welcome to the nights
Million stars in an effort to create, the universal drama
As we all play our part, from ages unknown to create
The old play, tales of bygone days and its trail
For some it’s the nectar, and for some the poison!

Kashkin

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