The poet attempts to
transform thoughts into
words of art,
enticing images, emotions
thru the minds of readers.
His canvas is paper
fine linen upon which
words come alive.
His palette is not of wood,
fashioned into artistic form,
but thoughts set in his mind
waiting to be released.
His paint is not of oil,
water, or pastel,
but simply a liquid
of blue or black,
sometimes of lead
if he chooses to use pencil.
A simple quill may
accompany his tools,
upon which paint flows thru.
A poets tools are few
and simple,
nothing fancy, for he is
a person of simplicity,
nothing of wealth is his
as a poet,
other than the masterpieces
he creates on his
canvas of words.