Sunday, May 6, 2012



Don’t tell me about the Poet.
I want to hear and read the Poetry.
No MFA’s or Chapbooks or self-pubs.
Let me feel your Poems.

Do not deceive with your
abstruse, abstract or obtuse words.
I need phrases and stanzas
that capture my being.

If you do not reach out to me
your poetry is irrelevant.

Let me decide if the poem is “you.”
Let me decide if the poem is “me.

Tickle me, flog me,
be my master,
be my slave.

Do something.
Don’t just word-process.

Emote with words,
to move me,
to make me love you,
to make me hate you,
to make me envy you,
to let me know you.

You the Poet
via your poetry.


I want my words to reverberate
through your eyes and ears
and other senses
physical, spiritual and sensual.

How do I reach you?
How do I get to you?

I must read and listen
and observe and feel
through all my senses.

To write a word, a phrase,
a sentence, a stanza:
a poem.

My poetry is an act of love.
An obsession and a passion
and, an emotional out pouring.

Viewing the world through a prism,
bending sights and sounds and smells,
into linear sentences on paper.


I see you write poetry.
I hear you read poetry.
I feel the emotion of your poetry.
I inhale the ambiance of your poetry.

Smell the roses in your garden,
let me draw-in the fragrance.

See the world through your eyes,
let me discern that in your words.

Make your sentences sing to me,
let me follow its melodic beat.

Let me fling my arms over head,
as I roller-coaster down that slide.

Let me inhabit your memories.

The pit of my stomach rumbles,
I awaken with a new awareness.


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