Good morning, bentfeather! Nice photo!
Written on another thread. Inspired by this photo.
What makes a poet, oh, I don't know it's innate
born with rhythm, swinging to the beat
watching pulsating stars, with huge curiosity
thin skinned and tender of heart poets be
painting pictures of what they'd like to see
day dreaming of life pastoral,
idyllic, sublime and grand
holding a bird in the palm of one's hand.
To dare to write in the face of ridicule
to believe in ones words will hold up to
the drifting twirling winds of time
to know one made a different to one gal or man.
To feel emotional pain on the skin
to break from the onus lived day to day
to hold to sanity in some small way
to meld those emotions in a line or two
to have someone say, I love you.
To be a poet, it's innate!
bentfeather (c) 08.01.06