(A lone voice speaks to a crowd of poets)

You do know everyone has their own magical style

Don't you

A style filled with such wild illustrious promises and kaleidoscope's of such deep vivid depths

For in poetry
No stone is left uncovered,
Ranging from life to death

Whispers of love’s wild explosive adrenaline filled triumphs

Everlasting hope or altarpieces of self-fulfillment

To descents into darkness

Opening portals to dimensions of festive destruction

And at the core for the inquisitive

The Red Flag
The smiling frown

Up or down

The fire to ignite a curious reader's eyes to the soul
That really matters

Is the what
Why and guile

It's quite simple
It's why everyone has their own magical style

For there is no guide to the labyrinth of the mind

When you enter poetry's smiling black and white turnstiles

And line up to read or write

With so many other groups of people who are still walking or standing still in history

Day or night
In single file

(C)
Copyright John Duffy