A musically inclined person;
He can build splendors through melody,
Maybe he's just a natural-born composer as they say,
Can't wait to see him unfold as an artist, a performer.
I love the way how he recreates with words
Even how deeply he writes with a ballpoint,
He's a vet of concocting and forming,
Not to mention he has almost everything.
He always gave beauty to my blemishes,
His creations are a masterpieces,
Just give him a pen and a blank sheet of paper,
He'll strum his guitar with his fingers.
An ode might come out right after,
Assumably taken from the stalks of his mind
Or perhaps it's how his heart writes,
Carefully drafted out of his raw master-pen.
He's an artist himself,
A walking poetry maybe or a song itself,
He's so broad and proactive,
He is always settling not for less.
He showed me places where he shapes his pieces,
Showed me the punctures others have rendered;
I've seen it all in the lyrics he wrote,
The root snaps and my heart has coiled.
I can see him bloom like what he envisioned,
His garden is now exquisite and adventurous,
That's what he got from sowing seeds
And now he's reaping every single good deed.
YOU ARE READING
For Pablo
PoetryTo the versatile man That rouses my somnolent passion again, To the outlandish guy That charmed my crafts and sentiments right now, To the skillful gentleman Who let me believe in my capacity, To the appealing man Who reminds me to always be the bet...
