What is a poem, but a collection of words?
Black on white rushing forth in herds
Like black sheep steering towards
The unsuspecting
Creativity in motion, bringing
Fresh new perspectives –
Redefining the notions of
This world
The poets move to deep beats
Dropping lines and rhymes with
Dancing feet, jumping legs, and
Jittery necks
Watch out – their meaning hits
Like train wrecks, or falls like
Quiet rain, or stings like scorpions
Or impregnates
Mothers and Fathers birth words
Poets produce progenies
That, stunted or thriving, rich or poor,
Living or stillborn, still have meaning
I wrote this after spending some time navigating the famouspoetsandpoems.com website. (I had no idea Amy Lowell wrote that many poems!)
Posted by: Sara | Oct 21, 2006 at 08:59 AM