A poem for my poet friends this fine Monday morning….is this you?
*****
A poet is the strangest sort of soul
You in this life may e’er expect to meet
More broken, even while more truly whole,
Innocently intending well, more sweet
Than any but a five year old should be
Unfit to meet a callused world’s demand
Or to behave aught expediently
All grace in flight; an albatross on land
But don’t the all too common error make
Do not fall into the too easy trap
Avoid the fatal egoic mistake
Imagining that poet as a sap
Powerful spirits, classic and antique
Give voice when poets ope their lips to speak
*****
The poet/editor of this website is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Contributions may be made at:
Humoring the Goddess 