The Poet’s Cup Is Never Empty
Just the same as her head never short of words
The Poet’s Cup Is Never Empty
Stacked like chapters, bold and bright
a mug of books, a brew of light
each sip a verse, each line a flame
no two mornings start the same
Ink still warm from midnight’s spill
stories steeping, quiet and still
rhymes unfold where echoes dwell
in every word, a spell to tell
She pours from memory, stirs with grace
in borrowed time, in sacred space
no sugar needed, no bitter taste
just truth and fire, with none to waste
Handle shaped from glass and gold
a grip on dreams that won’t grow old
names inscribed, like stories steeped
from love she lost to hopes she keeps
The poet’s cup defies the end
refills with pain, with voice, with friend
not just a drink, it holds her fight
her pen, her ink, her right to write
So let the world sip tea or fame
She drinks the storm and signs her name
and still it brims, no pause, no plea
this cup was made for poetry.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (6)
amazing
Amazing Great One !
Love this, you've just captured 'the poet', thankyou for sharing xx
Awww this was so beautiful. Love the imagery of the poet cup you detailed in this poem.
That book of great poems is growing, Marie. Loved these lines: "each sip a verse, each line a flame no two mornings start the same"
You are so right in this the creative cup for any writer really is always full of ideas, but one just has to figure out the best way to write them down whether a poem, story or whatever. Good job.