I write my poems.
I write my own prompts. Exactly what would you ask a machine to get them to write what I do…
Anna.
In the void of night, a soul defies,
Through mud and blood, he stumbles free,
Seeking purpose where darkness lies,
A testament to misery.
The world, a cold and empty space,
Whispered doubts that haunted him,
In alley’s breath, a ruthless chase,
In shadows deep, where lights are dim.
Yet in this bleak and barren land,
A flicker small, a ghostly trace,
With trembling hands, he makes his stand,
A spark of hope in dark’s embrace.
For twenty-six long years, she kept him safe,
Her light a shield against the night,
A woman’s love, his saving grace,
Her presence guiding him to light.
In meager means, he finds his way,
Through blackened dreams, he rises high,
Her voice, his anchor, night and day,
She leads him through the darkest sky.
A man once beaten, now reborn,
With gratitude and sorrow intertwined,
From void and mud, a new dawn sworn,
Her strength and love his constant guide.
She is his beacon, ever bright,
Through nights of pain and days of strife,
Her gentle hand, leading to light,
She is the heartbeat of his life.
I wrote it about my wife anna
