I failed all my poetry
by belching words
that isn't me
I bob and weave and stitch the
seams
adverting mental catastrophe
with one eye flush and one eye
shut
I spew the jargon that lights me up
I post it here I post it there
and hope it sticks and fills
the air

twenty three twenty three twenty three
sin the leaves spent the free when in tea
sent to seem bentley ream really keen
forty six forty six forty six
torture brick court see lick forced he rips
more the ships for lean mix bore me sticks

twenty and two twenty and six
forty and three, keep kept that this
poetry poetry poetry

appointed anointed entitled insane
assaulted revolted compiled remains

jaunty raunchy defiled deranged
daunting exhausting exiled and caged

experiment serious fistful explain
mysterious furious pistol disdain

lodger copter laughter softer
walking wanting wading wearily watching
thumping trading
vapor water left unbothered
shot and pulled and dropped to fodder
pushing pouting prodding per i lously pinching poking
paper thought or kept to rot and sought to put the trough
but
type. speak. letters. words.
components honing rodents fuller shoulder bone boulder
broken beaten bottled breathing baker bleating basted by
faker fleeting fated fearing facing feeble fine
CHOKE
keeper of the cold and crafted cattle
come to coddle all the wretched blood
it would it was and has been done
the blooming of a bud

Word-weavers we are carefully choosing
how to entwine our visions in moment.

We curve the textured linen page
with phases that in-hanse a readers mind.  

We create loops of poetic jargon
that dances to inspire a readers eye.

And when our cloth of vellum is done,
we present our gift to all who gather
in our tapestry of words.

I, the poet wears many hats to adorn self at any given time.

Musician, orchestrating with instrument of pen, expressive words upon page.

Artist, painting with beautiful colorful jargon, to open eyes and hearts inside grace.

Gardener, planting seeds of thoughts for them to bloom inside readers mind.

Chief, dishing out many a line, filled with delicious words to tantalize reader.

Landscaper, constructing scenery as beautiful as a mountain, or deep as an ocean.

Sculptor, molding craft of words sometimes soft and light, other times sharp as steel.

Teacher, enlightening one with information to open their consciousness if they choose.

Sailor, guiding ship-like eyes across a sea of words to move into calm waters for peace.

Laborer, picking just the right phase, to get a fresh new perspective inside a poem.

Singer, using one's rhythmic voice to echo inside vibrations of a sonnet that goes viral.

Doctor,  becoming a wordologist aiding the reader to receive insight to help them heal.

Secretary, to self who writes and transcribes many an ode so reader and poet has peace.

I, poet has a wardrobe quite extensive to pull from, on a creative journey of sharing.

StarBG © 2017

I am an artist
painting ones eyes with colorful jargon.
Red for passion that strikes a memory.
Green for the abundance of words that allows reader to think.
Blue for open sky that leaves room to drift in visions.
Purple my favorite to tweak the imagination
with peaceful vibrations.
Orange for the juice that flows inside a poem.
giving place to roam.
Pink like cotton candy that tickles the taste buds
for expansion of heart.
Black for words that tempt one to look within
and face the dark for cleansing.

Playground of colors flow for a writer artist to color with
as the reader sits to enjoy, ponder, and celebrate in their own space.

StarBG © 2017