Passion

A poem by Griffin Polley  Originally written 7/27/2020

Poetry, a simple word for infinite ideas

A paintbrush for a limitless canvas

The lifeblood of the poet is to strive and create,

But it takes more than just an idea to write

It takes a drive, a passion, a will to say:

“This is my art and I am proud of it”

“This is my art and it is what I love”

For every word is teeming with life

Flesh and blood, written in ink or lead

On paper they may only seem like words,

But to the ones who open their minds,

They will see a world of possibility and beauty

Worlds beyond their wildest expectations

But to the poet, they are his children

Who grow, but never age

Move, but never leave

Live, but never die

They are only his memories

Memories of times he cherishes

And times he wishes to forget

But above all, there is still one thing that remains;

His passion Featured Image by Debby Hudson on Unsplash