Poetry

as surely as the jester
hath no place on the throne,
I’ve no claim to even stardust
from the constellation that is
William, Robert and Emily

I’ve no wish to weave
tapestry from straw;
I hunger not for accolade,
nor despair for lack of fame

no, no, no, fellow traveler,
my sandals were formed
in the clay of assemblage,
that I might, like a good soldier,
follow their light

’twas ne’er my desire to
don their shoes, take hold their pen,
or stand in the shadow of their greatness;
for that would be strange fire
to this flesh indeed

my desire, my path, my purpose,
is to heed their eternal call,
throw open the window of time,

welcome into this sojourning soul,
the fury, sorrow, passion, and
true comfort of their wisdom

to live boldly in the presence of
divine and perpetual poetry,
that I may someday lie serenely
in its arms to breathe my last

let those upon whom the gods
have conferred the gift of setting
quill to parchment – write on;
that I might have food for my mind,
fire for my belly and wings for my soul

20 thoughts on “Poetry

    • Sometimes, Stella. It’s not an innate gift like so many others possess. It shows up now and then, like rain, and then fades away for a while.

      I honestly believe it’s a more a ‘call & response’ to the words of others that I cherish.

      • You describe it so well. I feel that rain occasionally and in my mind something comes out that I really enjoy. What’s comes out many times doesn’t makes sense to other but for me it makes me smile. Lol and that’s ok.

  1. I have tried again and again to write about my love for poetry, to give it the language it deserves; you have done this. I am going to print it and put it up on my writing board. My writing board is full of poems and quotes that inspire me as a writer. Thank you!

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