The Poet’s- Poetry




The Poet’s Poetry















The Poet’s poetry, so named and justly so

by his brethren his dress of words that live

deeply in a mind that longs release from

all his pain to gain respect not disgust

from his shabby dress.


In his lonely hours he penned words so fluently

that flowed so effortlessly from his quill left

still in feathered peace beside his bed.


His ordered verse came smoothly with

a rhyme or two left over from the chilled

cold air left in his chamber silent and poorly

lit from lonely hours spent there.


Upon his page he lingered often with

harsh industry and strife while his veins

pulsated and his eyes would fill with

sudden tears from a heart so bled.


Why he pleaded should my eyes be

so red to touch my heart to open your

own eyes to overflowing joy or dread


I set forth with drowsy thoughts of

summer days I say let my lips.


Wet with emotion and passionate thrill

all who want to listen to me still pass

my thoughts of lofty songs and words

before they flee and fly away from

me lost forever like a moth on wing

fluttering in my candle light.


With pen afire I seduce each word

uttered and summon back at will my

thoughts of yesterdays gone by with

crude lines I feared then as a boy yet

now I glow and mend with rapture and

saving grace impassioned every thought

and felt from my soul.







The Poet
















Translucent like the beauty of our earth

I write the words inspired me in wonder

and delight feeling calmly the might

of my quill I slightly tap its feather under

chin and grin content I sweep the dust

away from my scribe to lay it gently on


it’s side to be read in the morning glow

as I rest my weary head upon my desk

I listen to the tempest sing a lullaby so

sweet I cling and fall to sleep

at last to dream.


© Copyright Vincent Moore. All Rights Reserved.

Vincent Moore
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Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore pens his thoughts about many things and has a style all his own. Sometimes, he parties with words excessively and it becomes necessary to publish quickly lest his work be lost in the dark corners of his room or his mind. Vincent will lead you into mysterious worlds that are strange yet somehow familiar, worlds that will leave you unsettled and breathless for more. He was born and raised in Montreal Canada among the Irish, Brits, Italians and French. Point St Charles (commonly called The Point) was the Hell’s kitchen of Montreal. He played, cried, laughed and fought on the street corners, survival was an instinct and watching each others back important. Vincent left home at 17 to find his way in the world, failure and success he had plenty of. He studied the Arts and loved to draw and paint. Took acting lessons and envied those on the stage under the bright lights and hoped to some day become an actor, writer, playwright or painter. Vincent welcomes you to his world of mystery, fantasy and solitude. You can find a few of his writings in one of 3 books he's published. In Absinthia- In Melancholia and In Passionata.

6 thoughts on “The Poet’s- Poetry

  • October 20, 2018 at 12:23 AM

    An interesting structure, less of what I in expectation, know as your work. Yet filled with emotion and the true grit of truth for we poets, our words finding form and place through the twisted embrace of our struggles and pain. You are a master at emotional sharing in the subtlety of carefully chosen words. Love your work always, dear Vincent. Cheers!

  • October 20, 2018 at 4:52 AM

    How true my friend. Punctuation none. Sadly I recall this late work was penned in a drunken stupor. A couple of bottles of wine to many indeed. I remembered it well. A night of a depressed mind. This piece has not been corrected, I leave it as a testimony to my failures as a writer. Maybe one day I will punctuate this jumbled piece of madness. Thank you for your kind words of support and encouragement as always Tony.

  • October 20, 2018 at 5:25 PM

    Indeed, a different format for your poetry, dear Vincent – yet, as Tony says, “filled with emotion and the true grit of truth for we poets,”. Well done dear poet. Take care.

  • October 26, 2018 at 12:16 PM

    Yeah my friend, this is a different setting than I am used to with you. Nonetheless it is a magnificent work, punctuation or not, those pesky things do not halt me from enjoying this piece. Well done my friend.

  • October 26, 2018 at 12:29 PM

    Thank you Paul, it was certainly a period of confusion for me indeed. Sometimes it takes an emotional stressful twist in one’s life to twist ones style a tad. Nevertheless, I’m okay and have moved on from that event. My Muse took liberty with me no doubt:-))

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