They say
all poets
at some point
in time
possess and express
in overabundance
one or two
or three or four
of the traits listed
below:
Moodiness
Instability
Insanity
Eccentricity
and
all poets
are very:
Selfish
Idealistic
Intense
Impulsive
Cynical
Morose
Emotional
and
LoveWithEveryFiberOfTheirBeingNoMatterTheConsequenceOrSadnessOfThoseNotInvolvedInTheirPoeticPietyOfLove
and
if it’s true
And
you have these traits
And you live poetry
you might be a poet
Depending upon
the interpretation,
it’s not a bad thing
and
I might be a poet,
too
though
I live in the same world as you
Poetry is my favorite addiction/meditation/recreation/Re-Creation
I adore exploring every beautiful place
in a poet’s universe
I am a poet,
but only in spirit
I’m not like you
You are one of the chosen few
Whose words speak to my heart’s most hidden parts
I cannot pen my adoration to the ones I adore
as elegantly as you do
So, I carry you with me
I invite you into my most secret place
beneath an ancient oak
whose massive branches hang like arms
forming a cradle covered by a canopy of leaves
It’s my secret room I want to share with you
I gently lay you down on a bed of of grass
next to me as I sit in the sacred silence
I open your pages
I read your poems
Your magic is who you are
You paint in colors
that never existed before
Yes, you are a poet
You often lie between the pages
of Sylvia Plath
and Rossetti
or Robert Frost,
as Bukowski
flutters in the wind,
waiting impatiently
for me to finish
I read your last word
I let you slip away into the pages of places
I can only see in the dreams you write for me
I wait to once again taste your poetry
for I am a poet too, in spirit
and
I’m in love
with every poet and poem
whose kindred words
have touched my shore
~
©justagirllost2
