Poetry gives the magic back to words
and makes words flesh again
as it was in the beginning
till our quantum-leap thoughts
spurred on by incantatory rhythms
often like latterday Gregorian chants
materialize into the dancing silhouettes
of solid but surrealistic forms in fantastic hues
thus the poet is the custodian of creation from nothing

pit, pit, pit, pit, pit, patter shatters the pit, pit, pit.
raining a bit
raining a lot,
spit, spot, Poppins not included,
window drip, drop, spit, pit, patter shatters
it yet again.

No rain without the pit, pit, spit, spot
can't stop the patter, it will
always batter
me down.