Drunken Poet
M
Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken
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His glass is half empty,
or maybe half full,
but the words spill over the rim.
He staggers through sentences,
stumbles over metaphors,
pours another thought
before the night swallows him whole.
The moon winks,
the paper listens patiently,
ink like spilled wine on faded dreams.
Tomorrow he will be silent,
but tonight he speaks in storms,
making the world sway
to the rhythm of his intoxication.
Bu şiiri puanla
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