Poets talk in whispers,
For they talk from heart to heart,
They leave it to the normal folk,
To speak from other part,
For tongues will often tell a lie,
As will avoided gaze,
But poets when they talk with you,
Their thoughts are truthful blazed.
Poets talk in poignant guise,
They mirror thoughts your own,
If poets use their lips at all,
They use their tender tone.
For when their pen goes on its way,
And postman’s duly paid,
The poet’s thoughts are yours alone,
Each word is careful weighed.
The scribble pad no longer blank,
Oh, what a happy day,
When dusk is down and wine is quaffed,
And pen shall silent lay.
Till inspiration strikes her bell,
My muse has cast another spell,
Then in my mind as poets do,
My heart and pen elopes with you.
Michael (Walsh) 10.08.13
quite_write@yahoo.co.uk