I am a cat poet,
prowling streets of mind
for a mouse like phase
to play with.

Meow! I whisper
in wind of night,
that carries inspiration
below glowing stars.

Meow! I echo,
in moment where
at any turn a phase dipped
in catnip fills lungs.

Meow I sing,
as cat antenna raise
to collect visions
ready to scribed.

Meow! I scream,
walking cross
cobble stone like keypad
toward place
where writing paws can rest

The place, that brings me to purrrrrrr
in poetic song
as I’m petted by a readers praise.

They call me a spider-like poet
spinning a web of poetic threads.
Each golden fiber becomes a phase.
Each finger like spinneret weaves
gracefully cross keyboard floor.

They call me a spider-like poet.
Each poem from hub of heart.
Each woven vision calls to readers eyes.
But worry not, my creative lattice of poem
will not end your life.
Just get you stuck for a while
as you sway inside poetic song.

Crown of grace on his head,
Life on his lips,
The world on his shoulders,
Love in his arms,
Hard work in his hands,
Strength in his legs,
Endurance on his feet.

Mind filled with burdens,
But a heart so kind.
Peace is his breath,
Love,his language.

Empty stomach,
Yet feeding others.
Bleeding,hurting internally.
Yet clothing others' wounds.
THE MAN.