Sunday, July 15, 2012

Poets

i sat with some poets today
their words i was hearing, munching
defining and crunching
i swished them around like a fine wine
tasting their sweet poetry,
like vintage cabernet, smokey and fine.
i see the poets, the signs are there
dreamers alike, survivors all
their war of words they've had their fill
i see the young and the old
battling the same
bullshit of life
it's all a catchers game.

a poet is a poet
not merely a man of rhyme
a poet is a poet
who cries
laughs
and dies
with words on their minds

a poet is a poet
a poet is a courageous man
a poet is a poet
for not everyone can

take life
the troubles
evils
heartbreak
and fine tune it
and let it roll down their tongue
reliving moments syllable by tortured syllable

but a poet can
i try to be a poet
will i be your poet
can i be your poet
tonight?

1 comment:

  1. reliving moments syllable by tortured syllable
    it is in theses tortured syllables that we find sanctity and release as well as definitions for what emotion is and yes my dear you are and can be a poet!

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