The Varying Fortunes Of Poets Poem by DM W

One stood among the sunflowers
Listening to vibrant birdsong.
Rare delights now flow like
Sparkling streams through his blood.
Another was particularly struck by
The inherent beauty of moonlight
In the febrile realms of night.
One was lost in despair,
For a dry, ungodly season.
And then the thunder & lightning
Arrived and she was reborn
Blessed by silvery shards of rain

Another was plagued by madness
And was sectioned. Now he is just
Another sad spectre locked inside
A gleaming white, sanitised ward:
It turned out that words were no help.
It was just like chasing the wind
As for me, I'm hooked to magic
And attached to the number 7.
I now stand upon the precipice
Bursting with fresh dreams & visions,
With one hand on my horoscope,
And one hand on the edge.