For the poets

Another night
with my brothers and sisters
fathers and mothers
of words brought to life

Discover possibilities limitless
Lovers of the fog and mist
Use narratives to hover
above stories we tell to kids

Inside a hot crowded room
waking the dead left in tombs
pridefully playing a tune
coming soon.
The next event is in June.

The smell of her perfume
The fragrance of lyrics loomed
that taste like relief consumed

This potion that poets bottle
can drive one to full speed or slow as a turtle
Old Lonesome George died with poems we penciled
Celebrating the dead
the dead verbalizing our hurdles
The past repeats
hurtful, joyful and mortal
These memories in your read diary
left us touched with eternal glory

Please bless our presence once again
Tease our kinks to think bluntly
lumping beginning and ends
The trees are smiling and in their best fashion
Spring usually brings
a quicken pace of rising

For the poets who made life worth surviving
Hey here is a pen and a pad, let’s start writing

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