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Poet for sale
The power of the word
That flows from the hand
Transforming thought into sight
The virgin white sheet
Soiled by blood and sweat
An eternity of words on a page
It is here, I found love and hope
It is here, I lost my youth to verse
I
may not have gave thanks, to the few
Who gave their lives to profane
I
now prostitute myself for all to see
Soliciting your words of praise
My inner most thoughts on poverty and pain
Or perhaps a touch of lust
Are brought to the page
Provoking a view, which in the end
May not even influence my own view
James
Watson
© 1998
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