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Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
I dreamt that you left,
And I cried tears of blood.
They say dreams have meaning,
and I don't know what that means,
but I think you're killing me
don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.
I love you
I hate you
I want you
I want to **** you
I cry about you
I miss you
I need you

You're no longer in my life but...

I still love you
I sleep with puzzled thoughts of you. I sleep with the lie that I will find my way back for good. A place no one has ever been. A place no being could ever reach.

Its a beautiful lie, to feed yourself with fragments of memories that has never happened. We try to run towards the point of misery, hoping it will keep our sanity.

We lock in the truth inside our cells where no one could reach it. Trying to make our tiny beating heart believe it never existed.

I hope for the day that dreams wont be the only place where we existed. That reality is better cause its existing.

Let me wish the drops of water a place to fall.
Let me wish the sun a night to crawl.
Let my veins seep in the warm clouds.
A floating melody that makes me drown.

One day, I'll feel it too. Its all too good to be **** true.
So, let me sleep and count all the notes, my string of thoughts, and endless hopes.

A beautiful bright heart to follow.
Let me remind you all this tomorrow.
I'm an image of actions and floral words
I could be a poem in another world
They hymn when someone strums the chords

But I am no image of someone in the history
I'm a poem more likely not to rhyme
A music unlikely for the ears

I'm the three lines on the expected four-line-poem
The disappointment to the words at the end
A sound you will not recognize

I'm an art made of flaws
Made in time of burn and fire
Maybe to dust I came, to dust I'll belong

A hypocrite of my own
My thoughts betray me more than my words
A sinner who creeds at night, whole but shattered

But I am graced, making me beautifully flawed
The novel that may leave you warm yet hanging
Like how I am built with good intentions and wonders
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