Poet

Mother

You are

the greatest

poet i have known

But Ma..

This term

confuses me to no

end

if poetry

just happens

if poetry

is mystery

if mystery

is beauty

then what..

is the poet?

this creature

that belongs

nowhere

what is he doing?

Ma…

his job dear One

is to

colour

words

sculpt

paintings

shape

utterances

like a potter

into empty ware

full with meaning

full with life giving

air

his job

is to carve

n chisel

air

to make it

take shape

inside

n not sit in vain

on dusty shelves

n forgotten

corners

he also

sings melodies

with meaning

sharp n designed

to kill

he is the sword

n the pen

and a real poet

dear child

is One who knows

killing is merely

showing the world

the real

masterpiece

that was always

there

inside the stone