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You have your hammer down, foot stamping Passion Poets, the ones who feel something and like a waterfall similes fall out of their pen and land they are LOUD and they are dynamic, their metaphors are laser beams out of eyes, they are the Crowd Raisers. And you have your hearts open, eyes closed Emotion Poets, the ones who love something like a fountain, spilling over adjectives their words are red, they are heated yellow, they are revelling in that shade of blue that poets hate to love, they are the Heart String Pullers. And then you have... me. I'm an imperfect, writer's block, In Between Poet. my similes are more like a puddle than a waterfall, all the same parts but nowhere near the power, I am LOUD in all the wrong places my metaphors are dead battery laser pointers, I am not a Crowd Raiser. My fountain spills over adverbs quickly dying out my words are sort of... gray, they are not Heart String Pullers. But We are all Poets we are like similes we are comparing our words to something bigger, we are metaphors we find a way to put love into words, put hate into words, jealousy into words. we are adverbs quickly coming to life in all its splendor we are All the Same.
0
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
Poets
You have your hammer down, foot stamping Passion Poets, the ones who feel something and like a waterfall similes fall out of their pen and land they are LOUD and they are dynamic, their metaphors are laser beams out of eyes, they are the Crowd Raisers. And you have your hearts open, eyes closed Emotion Poets, the ones who love something like a fountain, spilling over adjectives their words are red, they are heated yellow, they are revelling in that shade of blue that poets hate to love, they are the Heart String Pullers. And then you have... me. I'm an imperfect, writer's block, In Between Poet. my similes are more like a puddle than a waterfall, all the same parts but nowhere near the power, I am LOUD in all the wrong places my metaphors are dead battery laser pointers, I am not a Crowd Raiser. My fountain spills over adverbs quickly dying out my words are sort of... gray, they are not Heart String Pullers. But We are all Poets we are like similes we are comparing our words to something bigger, we are metaphors we find a way to put love into words, put hate into words, jealousy into words. we are adverbs quickly coming to life in all its splendor we are All the Same.
#slampoetry#poemaboutpoets
Written by
yates
American
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
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