If a poem is to have a life of its own
It must first be read, words traveling
From page to the eye or ear,
Flowing into the synapses
As water becomes white in a stream…
Picking up speed as it swims over rocks,
Slows when it enters wider river,
Meanders through thousands of meanings,
Memories stirred into life until finally
It settles into the silt and fabric of life.
A successful poem unlocks a door,
Many doors of adjoining rooms,
Descends the staircase until
Reaching the ground and walks
Outdoors into full light of day….
Or darkness of night
Where there is nothing to fear,
As words burn into consciousness,
Illuminate a space you never knew before.
Listen, as poem speaks its mind….
If a poem is successful, its words
Always carry a truth.
Truth, in turn, gives birth to life,
As rapids brings light to
What had previously been hidden.