THE POET

He sits in silence,
alone, a soul searching
for a glimpse, just
a piece, upon which to
propose his pondering.
Cool on the surface,
a cad, aloof,
not interested,
not affected by life.
Beneath layers of sinew
and fiber, there is a spark
in which lies all the answers to life.
It dances in his soul,
it infects his longing heart,
it leaps to mind –
this arena of thought,
where it has room to run.
Connecting the dots,
expanding unevenly
in the wonder it holds.
In each dying ember
there lives an idea that simmers,
for the moment smoldering
and burning all his lifetime.
Thoughts of love
or a love lost,
a soul mate found,
playful rhymes touching every word,
all residing in his mind.
He is restless, this
simpleton snake charmer,
as thoughts like tinder comes
a bit too close to that glow.
They take on a life all its own
to dance freely, enflamed
and burning brightly.
Taking his pen, he scribbles
on the back of his left hand,
to remind him of inspirations
as they enter his mind.
Gathering together his pages,
these pieces of the puzzle he is crafting,
this ever-present observer moves
three benches down, taking a
new point of view of this scene
called life. And glancing at his
left-handed, self-made tattoo
he reads the words he had written.
It says simply, “I am poet”.
Satisfied with his station
in this complex world, he writes
with the sole purpose of touching
yet another soul.

Walt

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3 thoughts on “THE POET

  1. Pingback: THE POET – THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART

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