In the realm of words and dreams, behold August's scene,
Where the Lord of Ink, in his majestic scheme,
Crafts verses bold, like a poet's cherished dream,
With quill in hand, he reigns supreme.

With a heart ablaze, and a mind so keen,
He conjures tales, both grand and serene,
From the depths of his soul, where muses convene,
The Lord of Ink, a creative machine.

His words, like rivers, flow in a constant stream,
Each stanza a star in the poet's grand scheme,
He paints with phrases, like an artist's dream,
The Lord of Ink, a literary regime.

In the hush of night, by candle's gleam,
He weaves his stories, like a silken seam,
Characters dance, their destinies deemed,
By the Lord of Ink, their lives redeemed.

Through realms of fantasy, and reality's beam,
He navigates worlds, both real and extreme,
With ink-stained fingers, he'll forever esteem,
The power of words, like a timeless theme.

August's moon, in its gentle gleam,
Watches over the poet, lost in his dream,
For he's the keeper of tales, it would seem,
The Lord of Ink, in his endless scheme.

In his verses, emotions rise and teem,
In his rhymes, life's beauty does deem,
The poet's heart, an eternal stream,
The Lord of Ink, in his lyrical regime.

So, in August's embrace, let us esteem,
The Lord of Ink, and his poetic stream,
For through his words, reality they redeem,
And in his verses, we find our own dream.
© DMN 2023