speak so eloquently
to the gentle poet in me
hold the essence of this thought
in your very hands
caress such same essence
which sculpts my very soul
blame of anything at all is such a
tasteless admission
while from what we each want most
from it
we tend to flea
though for me
abstract thoughts constantly possess me
and I am forced to live among their
numerous riots
still, I remain a truly passionate lady
with a tone for Keats
I am left with little more than a nose
in the moment
sensing all too well
the foul stench of rejection's own fear
and my utter terror in such mashed instant
can best be described as remarkably shear
hence
all the various perceptions of one undeniable
there for Please do be most generous
and allow me numerous avenues for many
an indeed deeply private moment
leading me unto my truest selfish pleasure
Poetry
the life's blood
of the truly creative...........
(Dec. 3, 1999)