why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

Celestial, indigo
sparkling stars of fire
molten rings of planets round
the silent sailing clouds
float across a sallow moon
hung in a sky of glittered jewels
diamonds, opals, pearls

I put a lock on the clock
tied its hands with rope
if that made time still
halt its fast gallop!

There was an eerie silence
as lay dead the tool
with time now my slave
I could take it cool!

With there nothing to pass
I felt the burden off me
to lie back and relax
lead a life sans hurry!

For a while it seemed so nice
my time was what I liked to be
reading and writing and dreaming
walk hourless freely!

But soon boredom got me
grew a void of unease
a dead clock wasn’t that good
closed time killed my peace!

Time’s passage the timekeeper speaks
so we aren’t complacent too free
but keep the flow somewhat disciplined
by following a tool friendly!