Poets – two

poets 2

We’re ever excitable dust particles, some attracted
to light, some poised in darkness,
all attracted to anything that is charged.

Sometimes you see us,

Hear us,
Witness us,
Other times you don’t notice we’re there,
And at other times you rustle the order of matter so violently,
We have no choice but to enter your senses.
We’ll cause you to sneeze,
Blink incessantly,
Choke on us,
Pat your body down and clear your ears.
We enter through unseen crevices,
Even when you protect all your senses.
The soul knows when it wants us,
We lurk in the dark,
Or manifest in rays of light.
We’re always present,
We feel you….
We know…..
We sense when you’re negatively charged,
Positively charged,
Even neutral,
And we’ll make our way into your very core,
A line, a stanza, a manifesto,
A spark, an ignition, a shock,
A lightening bolt, a bomb,
We’ll give you what you need.
We’re poets,
For you, we’ll bleed.
We’ll be the tincture, we’ll drip feed.
We’ll be the soil, or the seed,
Turn the pages of your soul,
Force you to read.

Poets – one

poets 1

A sharp pencil is a sign of a blunt imagination

New series of random musings on poets.

Don’t be offended, I’ll probably contradict myself a thousand times with musings battling each other out as they come to me.
These are not absolutes, maybe thought provokers at most.
If you hate me or disagree with anything, by all means please comment and let me know how you feel or share with me your ideas.
Ever evolving, I don’t wish to stay stagnant.
With love,