The Few.

A tribute to those who man Lifeboats.

There are the mere few
........................ still used by the many,
Who always refuse
...................to turn back from danger,
And in whose wet shoes
.........................not many would walk.
Who never misuse
............................the credit of heroes.
They need no excuses
............................to face raging ocean
And those it's abusing,
....................yet fight with small boats
For souls they won't lose.
...............................Life-saving angels
Are whom we would choose
.......................to wrap in God's caring
When sea-storms effuse
..............................their terrible worst.

Poets Like Me..

Suspended at portals of rigid
and well-defined
thought reclines most whimsy,
which poets like me
welcome and use to un-stick
rusted up vision.
Freeing the mind we care not
where reality ends.
Wonder notices even the tiny
and gasps at gross,
the newly dry gossamer wing
seen as fillagreed
diamonds with eyesight, night
versed with ghostly
metaphor, the tides as emotion.
Humanized nature
allures the inventive in scribes
bent on perception
where real meets make-believe.
Awe, understood
as a lever appeals to romantics
like me addicted
to all ethereal's seducing fancy.
Idealized love
presents realms of impassioned
expression, themes,
versing spirit personified holds
complusion, creative
vision awakens to other worlds
where, finally winning
utopia becomes no mere illusion.
What feels real merges
and mixes with linguistic flights
of beguiling imagery.
Life through the eyes of all poets
like me changes
at will from the galling mundane
to that which excites
inspiration for evocative writing.