(another re-post from Poetfreak)

Poet, weave your words
into a tapestry of desire.
Cross the warp of loneliness
against the weft of tenderness.
Fashion fabric of sweet caress
to keep us warm, awhile.

Poet, spin your wheel;
press the verbs and nouns
into a *** for our hopes and fears,
to catch the water of our tears,
to hold the memories of the years.
Fire a vessel of your renown.

Poet, strike the iron
into a blade so sharp and true.
Forge a sentence with raging heat,
measure a meter with rhythmic beat,
take words from the dictionary, or the street--
let the smoke of pretense go up the flue!